One night at the train station - an observation

It's 11:04 pm and the train is now late. Apparently it stopped in Rye for an ambulance, although no one seemed to know why. Meanwhile I am sitting in Stamford at the station waiting for it to arrive. As I sit and wait, I am mesmerized by the line of taxis and the efficiency of this system, cabbies don't fight over fares, everyone in line gets there own turn. New taxis would move up to fill the spots left by those who had taken fares from the incoming trains. Then there was one cab driver, probably figuring he would be there a while got out of his car with soda can in hand. He finished it off, and walked over towards the trash but stopped around 15 feet from the can. This was not a simple can, it was one of those covered cans with a small opening. The man began playing a "horseshoe-esque" game with his tin can and the trash barrel. He would throw the can towards the trash with an overhanded underarmed throw. After 5 or 6 minutes of this he switch to a soft overhand pitch towards the barrel.. He got close a number of times but never made it. Each time walking towards the trash and picking up his can and walking back to his made up line 15 feet from the trash barrel. On his last time to the pick up the can he was verbally berated by his fellow drivers for playing with trash and holding up the line as their was space now between him and the open spot. Defeated, he walked back to the trash and placed his can through the small hole. He walked back to his car, head hung low, knowing that for a brief moment he was doing something unique, taking a break from his everyday existence for a little bit of change.

Just an observation