For those of you who have always wondered: Subway terminus

If you are like me, you have had, since childhood, at the back of your mind, a question, among all your other questions: what happens if you don’t get off the subway at the last stop?
Say you are a combination of exhausted, tired, in a Friday mindset on a Thursday evening, and engrossed in your device.
For example. Or you could be reading a good book.
Or just curious.
Maybe you glance out the window and wonder, is that my stop? (doors close) was that my stop? researchers decided to find out.
Here is what happens:
The train drives a while through a dark tunnel, lights off.
There is graffitti. Are graffitti?
Really, almost dark. Most train lights off.
Train stops.
You look out window, gee that’s odd, stopping in a tunnel. Maybe there’s traffic. Then it dawns on you what happened.
You sit that way for five minutes, wondering if someone is watching you on a security camera. You feel watched.
The train driver walks past, probably going to the other end because if there is a driving end at both ends, you don’t have to turn around the train, right.
You hear something behind you. At first you don’t know if it is tinnitus, a hearing aid malfunction or a tiny man clearing his throat.
Feeling silly, you glance over your shoulder. A man about ten inches tall, dressed in a black business suit, with a neat haircut is sitting on the seat near the door normally reserved for the elderly, pregnant and so on.
Apparently he was just clearing his throat of tiny phlegm and not preparing to say something, because he pays you no regard.
You notice more tiny businessmen in the shadows.
Just then, the train begins to move again, back in the other direction. It stops at your station, the terminus.
You get off before other passengers can embark, wondering how many will wonder if there are additional secret stations after this one, and how many will assume you are a rube.