For a previous kvetch, see Good Will for Amtrak — Not!.

Some decades ago, I became an irregular member of the Manhattan “Bridge and Tunnel Crowd”, making my way into Manhattan via New Jersey Transit to Penn Station, where I usually land on the southern-most platforms. Some of the stairs ascend directly to the level  which provides street level access, while others rise to an intermediate level confusing named the “exit concourse”; others terminate in a stepped depression that came  with the new NJT concourse.

It was confusing at first, but I quickly learned what I need to know, except for the occasional need to review  the arrangements of certain elevators that require switching cars to get all the way down to track level. Nevertheless, in  NJT customer surveys, I always give  NY Penn,  my first destination of the day, high marks.

My interest in architecture, the first cousin of public art, goes beyond the trivial. I read books about it. I am susceptible to the influence of the best of it, which elevates the spirit of public space without possession of that space. But the best of utility is seldom to be found, for architecture is a narcissistic endeavor. It is almost unheard of for a large project to be executed by an end-user of that space. All too often, utility is displaced by aspiration to mystical greatness, absent local participation.  Although members of the public have given sound-bite interviews, there does not appear to be a portal for public opinion. I have never received a solicitation, even though I am a regular participant in NJT surveys. This suggests a fact of monumental architecture: It is the province of people who “know  better.”

One block west of Penn Station, there is a monument to this kind of process error, Moynihan Train Hall. With enough floor space for a county fair, it is  severely underutilized. No picture will ever show a crowd. Objective measurements avail from the tiny allotment of public seating, and the men’s public restroom, with a handful of little used urinals, compared to the massive complex in the upper concourse of the main station.

Why has the utilitarian potential of this monumental structure been so strangely truncated? A work of architecture that is also a public facility requires policing of public order, and, these days, prevention of terrorism. With the exception of the new World Trade Center, I have never seen an  architect’s vision of a public monument address this at the level of practice. And yet it must be, to allow reasonable safety of passenger transit. Hence the virtual absence of seating. In fact, for Penn Station as a whole, compared to available floor space, there is a virtual absence of seating.

All this sumptuous nothing entails an additional block walk from the 7th Avenue subway and Herald Square. Can an architect’s vision be put on trial for tired feet? In 1989, Richard Serra’s sculpture,Tilted Arc, installed in Foley Square, was, and lost. It got in the way of workers getting their lunch. Hold that thought; it will be the basis of a food-based metric.

New Jersey Transit runs 340 trains per day. Each train has close to 1000 seats. Yet the NJT waiting area in the NJT-exclusive area of the station has about 60 seats backless seats made of grey steel, apparently sourced from a prison furniture supplier. They are indestructible, and painfully cold in winter, even in the heated space. The adjacent restroom has three urinals, two of which were installed at the wrong height. There is a good reason for all of this. NJT doesn’t want to pay for the constant LEO presence required to keep better seats available for legitimate commuters. The urinals are some kind of a fitness test.

What about the claim that the station layout impedes debarkation/embarkation? Most platforms are equipped with both stairs and escalators. When a NJT train is on the platform for debarkation, it seems to be  policy that the escalators cannot be used; they move in the down direction, disabling their use even as additional stairs. As with security, there is a likely reason. In a shared facility, who indemnifies who? A few years back, an elderly woman was strangled to death when her scarf got caught in the hand rail.

So rather than pay for insurance, which would require close attention to the emergency stop button, NJT passengers are required to climb two flights of stairs to the main concourse. How can a new station fix this artificial shortage of stairs?

They say we need skylights to  lift our spirits; the narrow view of a usually cloudy sky might compare favorably to Colorado’s Supermax. A cheap cup of coffee would be more appreciated. TV news stories are suspiciously thin,  one interviewed a single individual, probably all they could find.  Opinion polls mistake “Sure, it would be nice” for “I’ll pay for it.” So we have to find out how the public really feels about it.

My solution is a food-based metric, the Coffee Poll, with these questions:

• Would you trade a new Penn Station for a free Welcome to the Apple Cafe Americano?
• How about a latte with aspartame on the side?
• Latte with an extra shot of espresso and a pump of caramel syrup?
• Three shots over ice in a grande cup with five pumps of caramel syrup?
• A macchiato the way you like it?
• Venti caramel frappe?
• Frappe with white chocolate and an extra shot?

Of  course, giving everyone a frappe could easily cost $20B, three times the price  of a new station with overpriced food courts. But somewhere in this list, there lies fungible reason. This survey will doubtless confirm that people don’t care about the height of the ceiling; they want creature comforts. It’s time to roll out my plan, which saves $6B:

• $100M a year to pay three guys $30M a year to watch the escalators.
• $100M a year for comfy, cat-themed seat cushions.
• Free lattes for all, free frapps for frequent travelers.
• $100M to lower the urinals.
• $100M to buy 10 additional tables for those who prefer to do something while waiting for their trains. These can be Walmart folding banquettes, marked up 100,000%, adorned with “I ❤️NY” stickers.
• $100M to replace expensive atrium skylights with off-brand LCDs sourced on Canal Street, connected to a Lenovo PC running AI, that will make you happier than you have a right to be.

I’ve renovated the experience of Penn Station for under a billion. I’ll watch the escalator buttons.