The Train
This post is written with a foggy, sleep-deprived brain. Please excuse typos, incoherence, and any embarrassing grammar or syntax errors.
Last night was our last night in NYC. Carole and I came back to the room right after dinner, and I packed up, vacillating back and forth about whether to take the train to JFK or schedule an Uber for this morning. The debate in my head went something like this:
“Uber is simpler – click a couple times and you’re ride is out front.”
“But the train is cheaper -- $15 compared to $70.”
“I don’t have to plan directions with Uber.”
“There is such a high probability I will take the wrong train and end up in Coney Island instead of the airport.”
“Uber could get stuck in traffic.”
“The train runs right on time.”
“Uber is safer. It will still be dark out, and I will be alone dragging my suitcase and backpack.”
“The subway is perfectly fine (I said to myself after Googling is it safe to take the subway alone when it’s dark?).”
I went to bed having convinced myself to suck it up and take the train.
NO sleep descended to relieve my sandpaper eyelids. Instead, I spent the night rehearsing, revising, and re-rehearsing my every move – when the alarm goes off, get up and turn it off quickly so as not to wake the girls, throw on my clothes, brush my teeth….no wait, brush my teeth, then throw on my clothes. Zip up my suitcase and make my way to Penn Station. In the dark. Alone. No, I should just Uber. Yeah, that’s simpler and less scary. I’ll Uber.
With the argument settled, I would try to fall asleep once again. No luck. The rebuttal came –
Don’t Uber! It’s ridiculously expensive. Just take the train. Don’t be a wuss.
It was settled once and for all. I was going to take the train.
At 5:45 (I HATE everything about 5:45 am!), I gave up on sleep and finally just got up and brushed my teeth. I decided my PJ bottoms were too comfortable to take off, so I left them on and threw on a sweater and running shoes. If I was going to undertake this subway mission, at least I was going to be ultra-comfy. Even as I tied my shoes, I thought of checking for an Uber.
NO! Put on your big girl panties and get on the stinking train!
I arrived at the station and asked for directions to the right train. Despite very clear directions, of course, I boarded the wrong train.
They say the subway is designed so even a blind person can successfully navigate it. Hmmmm.
I asked a man walking beside the train I was about to board, “Is this the train to Jamaica Station?” He responded politely, “Yes.”
I hopped on, sat down, and just for caution sake, asked the lady beside me, “Is this the train to Jamaica Station?” She looked at me as if I really should know better somehow, “No, this train does not go to Jamaica Station.”
I jumped off before the doors closed thankfully.
I ran upstairs and waited for the “Babylon” track to pop up on the neon display. When it popped up, I followed a few other people who looked like they knew exactly where they were going. When I saw another lady with luggage, I asked if she was going to Jamaica station and then Air Train to JFK. She said yes, so I tailed her like Sherlock Holmes on a jewel thief.
So I made my flight, but through a series of unfortunate events, my rides home all fell through. My friend Cathy came through for me! Not only did she pick me up from John Wayne airport with a smiling face and a hug, she brought me a kombucha!!!
I am now running on fumes and kombucha, and it’s 1 am to my NYC-adapted body.
Until tomorrow….night night.
