The directions I was given included, "Go to Penn Station and get on the train."
I was supposed to leave at 1:30. Thanks to the amazing experience that was The X-Files (and the subsequent 3 hours spent on Craigslist making fun of people), I overslept my alarm (read: my alarm that I insisted on not setting because I was positive there was no way I was going to sleep in that late). I woke up and had to prioritize: I called Voorhees to tell her I was going to be on the 2:30 train and then went and ate the rest of my cheesecake.
With an extra hour to spare, I took my time leisurely shoving clothes into my bag. I also sat on the couch and watched Big try to clean her apartment. I offered to help, but when she saw what my "help" amounted to (a pile of papers haphazardly stacked on the window sill and blankets shoved under couch cushions), she insisted I get out of the way.
At 2:05, I realized I still hadn't bought a train ticket. Big told me I wasn't going to make it and tried to trick me into staying (read: she locked me in the apartment). Breaking free, using wild Asian cunning (read: I cried), I sprinted from her building to the local subway station. I got on and sat next to a man who smelled like toilet (read: I bet he pooped himself hardcore), and rocked back and forth in panic. I started reciting the directions in my head (read: muttering outloud) and the people in the subway made sure to give me plenty of room to breathe. How thoughtful of New York.
I got to Penn Station, got off, and had absolutely no idea where to go. At this point, I think the time was 2:20. I am sprinting through Penn Station with my ninja turtle backpack and my giant kit bag, knocking people out of the way left and right. I got yelled at a few times, but I had more important goals in mind. LIRR = Long Island. I thought about the delicious tea and wondered if that train served it onboard. I ran by Amtrak, and a whole bunch of other places. I saw a sign that said "NJ Transit." If there's one thing my 4 years in undergrad taught me, it's NJ = New Jersey.
Of course none of the trains had my final destination and the ticket line was too long. I called Voorhees, who said to just get on the train leaving at 2:32. It is now 2:30. I don't even remember what track the train is on or where it's going or what number it is and I still don't have a ticket. I follow this other woman who is also sprinting and run to track 13 (never a good sign) and push my way on, just as the doors close.
This is what I am met with. An abandoned baby carriage/stroller. I am in the doorway and there's a guy next to me and this baby stroller. I'm pretty sure it's not his and I'm also pretty sure there's a baby in it. I stand there, staring at this stroller, scared out of my mind that this is either a) a horror movie like one of those Japanese thrillers where I pull back the carriage top and inside is a Hello Kitty doll that turns into that girl from the Ring who then sucks my soul out of my eyes or b) an episode of Law and Order gone horribly wrong. All of a sudden, I hear, "TICKETS, HAVE YOUR TICKETS READY."Problem: I have no ticket. I ask the man next to me if you can buy tickets on board the train. He says yes. Thank goodness. I buy my ticket, which is this yellow piece of paper with holes punched in it. It also acts as my receipt, government-issued ID, and I can trade it in at Dunkin Donuts for a free coffee.
The train stops at Newark Penn Station. I remember I have to get off at Newark. I stumble off and wander up and down the tracks for a few minutes before asking for directions. I'm told I'm on the wrong tracks. I have no idea where the other tracks are and in my sheer frustration, I contemplate running into a brick wall a la Harry Potter. I look into a building labeled "Waiting Room" and see people disappearing. Like some strange magic act. I walk in and realize they are disappearing alright... down an escalator. I follow the crowd down into a scary mystical tunnel. Everything is well lit with big flashy signs, except for the door leading to the track I need. It's next to a bunch of trash cans down this empty hallway with a handwritten piece of cardboard propped against the wall. The handwriting looks like when I tried to write on my own butt (long and unrelated story).
I walk through the doors, up stairs, and find a train. Assuming it's the one I need, I board and sit down next to a guy with sunglasses on. Creeper. The train takes off and a woman comes down the aisle asking for tickets. I pull out that yellow piece of something I got, she looks at it, looks at me, squints, looks at the paper again, looks back at me... and hands it back without saying anything. This train ride passes by relatively without drama. Until it's time to get off.
At the stop before the one I need, the conductor mentions that we should start moving toward the back of the trains. Well I figured the back of one train is the front of another. The train stops, I carry my things to the front of the train car and the doors don't open. I stand there, wait. And look out the window. And realize these doors won't open because I'm in the middle of a bridge. I step back and look down the car and see the last of the passengers for this stop getting off. In panic (theme of this trip), I bolt down the aisle. Poor planning: I physically get lodged between the two seats and have to writhe and struggle my way free. I throw my body off the train just as the doors close and it pulls away.
Voorhees is standing in the parking lot (parked illegally in a handicapped spot) and tells me she got worried because everyone else got off the train and she thought I had missed this one too, but was too embarassed to call her and was somehow hitchhiking my way to NJ. I'm comforted by the fact that she thinks I'm attractive enough to flag down lonely truckers.
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