"The Dress She Wears, Sweet Mama, It's Pink and Blue..."
Had 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.)