This morning at breakfast it's suggested that we pay attention to who we are as individuals. When we find ourselves some place unexpected, ask: Why am I here? Why is it me in particular who is here?

After breakfast, I'm brought to the train station, helped with baggage, helped to research when and from where the next train to Reading will leave. I'm treated with tender consideration.

With all that kind assistance, I'd think I'd have an uneventful departure. But no. The departures for both Platforms 1 and 2 in Bristol are listed on the same monitor, but located on opposite sides of the track. I'm embarrassed to report how long it took me to notice I was on the wrong side of the track.

I finally get on a later train. I remember the words I've been told, but nothing seems remarkable about this train compared to how the planned train probably went. I finish reading the actor interviews in the back of A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. There's discussion on "The Infinite Improbability Drive."

Then, I catch the equally later train from Reading to Ascot. No problem finding platform 4. Train moves along, everything on time. We arrive at Ascot. I wait behind a young man also exiting the train.

The train stops, the bell rings, the door doesn't open. He pushes the manual button to open the doors. It doesn't work. I cross to the other side in case we're supposed to exit on the center platform. That door doesn't open. We rush to another set of doors at the end of the car. They don't open on either side, and we tilt on our feet as the train continues on its journey, carrying us past the Ascot signs, past our destination.

I sit back down, kind of amused. I'm going some place new I haven't planned on an unplanned train. But the young man looks worried. He says, "I have an interview in Ascot at 1:30." Then he says, "How much will be a ticket to Ascot? I'm not sure I have enough pounds..." I tell him he won't have to pay more money to get back to Ascot.

The next stop, Sunnydale, the doors work, we exit, we get lost together, we find our way together, we find a rail worker who doesn't seem to understand why we think there's a problem at all, even though we no longer have valid tickets. We stand in the cool sunny breeze to wait 15 minutes to go back toward Ascot.

It's then I remember again what I've been told. I look at my fellow traveler, the only person trapped with me in a rail car I wasn't even supposed to have been in. He looks an age he could be my son. I ask a couple of questions about the job interview. He's very shy, a local grad student from India. But, he has nothing else to do, and finally looks up and notices me as a person.

The 'why me in particular' light bulb goes off in my head as he now talks with good eye contact about his studies.

At the least, I offer him mom-like reassurance about how easy it is to find a cab at the Ascot station, how he'll likely make it to the interview on time. He looks less stressed.

The train arrives, and we reach Ascot at 1:10.

But by the time we part near the taxis, I also have his name and contact information in my little book, just in case some other 'why me in particular' reason comes to pass.