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psalm_onethirtyoneHad an adventure getting home. Got in to New York Central Station with an hour and ten minutes to the time I thought I should be on my train, and then, because of some strange and inexplicable survival instinct which I will never place or understand, asked a security guard whether my ticket was okay. She directed me to Information, where I was told that my ticket was all wrong and I needed to exchange it, and I should go to Tickets and exchange it for the correct one, and leaving on a train ten minutes earlier than the one I thought I was one. Put me at fifty minutes to train time.
So I went to Tickets and was in line for half an hour, getting highly nervous and chattering at innocent bystanders; I eventually got to a clerk. It was then twenty minutes to train time.
The clerk looked at my ticket and made calculations for ten minutes before determining that I could exchange my ticket, but it would cost upwards of forty dollars, whereupon I burst into hysterical tears because I had no money whatsoever except for a nickle in my pocket.
Ten minutes to train time.
The clerk, who I imagine was really not enjoying his day at that point, told me to go to Customer Service, where I proceeded to cry hysterically on the clerk there while saying 'I want to go home, I want to go home'. She finally calmed me down enough to figure out what it was I needed, and immediately summoned another clerk, explained the situation, and got my ticket stamped with a red stamp that made it okay to use. They both informed me that I did not have to pay anything extra and shooed me off towards my gate.
Two minutes to train time.
I ran through Central Station with my altogether too much luggage, still crying, and got to my gate, down the stairs, and onto the train just as it left.
I never want to go anywhere ever again.
(But it was the most beautiful time I have ever spent with anybody, I don't know how to say it. I didn't want ever to go home when I was there.)
So I went to Tickets and was in line for half an hour, getting highly nervous and chattering at innocent bystanders; I eventually got to a clerk. It was then twenty minutes to train time.
The clerk looked at my ticket and made calculations for ten minutes before determining that I could exchange my ticket, but it would cost upwards of forty dollars, whereupon I burst into hysterical tears because I had no money whatsoever except for a nickle in my pocket.
Ten minutes to train time.
The clerk, who I imagine was really not enjoying his day at that point, told me to go to Customer Service, where I proceeded to cry hysterically on the clerk there while saying 'I want to go home, I want to go home'. She finally calmed me down enough to figure out what it was I needed, and immediately summoned another clerk, explained the situation, and got my ticket stamped with a red stamp that made it okay to use. They both informed me that I did not have to pay anything extra and shooed me off towards my gate.
Two minutes to train time.
I ran through Central Station with my altogether too much luggage, still crying, and got to my gate, down the stairs, and onto the train just as it left.
I never want to go anywhere ever again.
(But it was the most beautiful time I have ever spent with anybody, I don't know how to say it. I didn't want ever to go home when I was there.)
