#commuting fail

It started off as a regular morning -- well, a regular morning after a four-day weekend.  Your typical grogginess, difficulty waking up to an alarm, general irritation.  

All normal.

I left my apartment on time and not rushing for once (give me credit for this) and saw a text from my mother around 7:50am.

“Is your train on time?”

(I believe they call this foreshadowing)

I get ready with the news on every morning and didn’t hear anything about LIRR delays, so I wondered why she was asking that.  I also wasn’t at the train yet since I take the 8:03 every morning so I didn’t know.  But I thought nothing of it.

I got on my train and quickly heard that they were experiencing some delays (WHAT ELSE IS NEW) and would be making local stops.  Eh, I can live with that.  That’s all fine.

But then, all hell broke loose.  Instead of just telling you what happened in my own words, I can also show you in series of photos.  Alternative title to this post:  ALLISON HAS A MENTAL BREAKDOWN.

BUCKLE UP.

First, the alerts.   The Long Island Railroad isn’t great at saying, “hey, there are going to be delays later; you might want to plan accordingly!” but they ARE great at saying, “uh, yeah, there are delays now.  but you probably know that already.”

It wasn’t awful, though.  Sure, I was late, but nothing out of the ordinary.  I figured all the extra stops were causing the 20 minute delay (which I can live with!  I’m easygoing and patient!  Very go with the flow!) 

But then... we stopped.  There was no more movement.  I looked at my calendar to see what meetings I had today at work, and the first call was at 10:30.  Phew, I’ll probably make that, right?

(Foreshadowing again)

I email my team and tell them I’m going to be late and decided to just try and be patient (something I suck at), throw on some music and deal.  I also felt like I should document the delay because I’m an over-sharer and have this weird thing where I think people care about what I’m experiencing:

I now started to get antsy.  My butt hurt from sitting for so long.  People were starting to lose their patience and tempers.  I felt bad for those who were stuck standing in the aisles, but also was secretly glad it wasn’t me.  I felt the train walls closing in on me and suddenly felt... panicky.  The man next to me -- who at this point hadn’t said a peep -- decided to call every single person in his phone’s address book.  LUCKY ME.

I look at my phone battery: 38%.  I should probably not use my iPhone anymore, but what am I supposed to do during this stressful situation?!  I HAVE TO CONTINUE TWEETING HATEFUL THINGS AT THE LONG ISLAND RAILROAD TWITTER HANDLE!

topical.

 not the most mature, but... *shrugs*

I *also* needed to keep concerned friends and family posted on my whereabouts:

of course I gotta keep Sue in the loop.

It’s now 10:30.  I’m hot, I’m full of rage.  I’m annoyed.

I’m late for my client call.

I think about all the times the trains have been messed up in 2017 and I get annoyed.  I THEN remember that I pay $300 a month for this godforsaken piss-poor service, and I start to see red.  Breeeeeeeeeeathe, Allison, just breathe.

I hear the conductor make an announcement on the loudspeaker, so I take my headphone out to hear it.  Only, I can’t hear it, no one can -- the volume is too low and his voice is muffled.  THE SPEAKERS DON’T WORK; WHY WOULD THEY???!  People on my train laugh;  the kind of laugh that happens when you’ve lost your mind.  Because we have.

Now, the worst happens... I lose cell phone service.  No more Instagram stories, tweets and texts.  This is it, I think, this is my home now.  I live here.  I’m never getting out.

11:00 am.

Just as I begin to accept my fate that I somehow died and am now living my personal hell, we pull into Penn Station.  Three hours of commuting.  Two hours longer than normal.  I stand up and just see a bunch of faces: disgruntled, defeated.  We’ve been through battle together.  And now our (work) days were only just beginning.

I made it into work at 11:20ish; a bruised and battered commuter, and as soon as I turned the corner into my desk area, I saw about ten concerned faces look up at me.  I make a VERY SERIOUS announcement.  

“I need ten minutes before I can talk to anyone.”

And whatddya know, they listened.  

So, not the greatest start to my day, but I survived.  And to those who followed along on my little nightmare journey this morning, you’re the real MVPs.  That couldn’t have been easy to witness.