You still have 20 minutes until the train boards, the chances of finding dinner at home are slim, and you’re hungrier than a bear at Yellowstone. For those of us who leave evenings from Penn Station, the Chernyobyl of transit dining, the refueling options fall somewhere between what’s slopped on a tray in Rikers and what kept the Taco Bell rats so energized during their star turn on YouTube.

So what’s it going to be? Shoot the wad and head for Rose Pizza, undoubtedly the best Penn has to offer? Or how about one of the $1-a-dog Sabrett stands that popped up everywhere last year in what seemed like a matter of hours? Or is this the night to take a walk on the wild side and saunter down to that new international “café” that the less enlightened might call a deli?

But beware, those of you who leave from that other train terminal in town. We’re on to you. While we’re munching a hotdog next to some lost soul who’s gumming a beer-soaked bun that was left on the counter, we’re thinking about what it’d be like to have your choice of restaurants. Maybe a steak in Michael Jordon’s, or the burnt ends at Brother Jimmy’s. Ah, just to stand by Little Pies and savor the smells!

So we don’t want to hear the next day about your appetizers at Charlie Palmer’s place in the main hall, or how you’ve come to love Vietnamese sandwiches. Sure, you’ve got us beat in restaurant quality, diversity and ambience. But how many hotdogs can you get for a fin?