LIRR Nightmares
It started off as a regular morning -- well, a regular morning after a four-day weekend. Â Your typical grogginess, difficulty waking up to an alarm, general irritation. Â
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.
âIs your train on time?â
(I believe they call this foreshadowing)
I get ready with the news on every morning and didnât hear anything about LIRR delays, so I wondered why she was asking that. Â I also wasnât at the train yet since I take the 8:03 every morning so I didnât know. Â 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. Â Eh, I can live with that. Â Thatâs all fine.
But then, all hell broke loose. Â Instead of just telling you what happened in my own words, I can also show you in series of photos. Â Alternative title to this post: Â ALLISON HAS A MENTAL BREAKDOWN.
BUCKLE UP.
First, the alerts.  The Long Island Railroad isnât great at saying, âhey, there are going to be delays later; you might want to plan accordingly!â but they ARE great at saying, âuh, yeah, there are delays now.  but you probably know that already.â
It wasnât awful, though. Â Sure, I was late, but nothing out of the ordinary. Â I figured all the extra stops were causing the 20 minute delay (which I can live with! Â Iâm easygoing and patient! Â Very go with the flow!)Â
But then... we stopped. Â There was no more movement. Â I looked at my calendar to see what meetings I had today at work, and the first call was at 10:30. Â Phew, Iâll probably make that, right?
(Foreshadowing again)
I email my team and tell them Iâm going to be late and decided to just try and be patient (something I suck at), throw on some music and deal. Â I also felt like I should document the delay because Iâm an over-sharer and have this weird thing where I think people care about what Iâm experiencing:
I now started to get antsy. Â My butt hurt from sitting for so long. Â People were starting to lose their patience and tempers. Â I felt bad for those who were stuck standing in the aisles, but also was secretly glad it wasnât me. Â I felt the train walls closing in on me and suddenly felt... panicky. Â The man next to me -- who at this point hadnât said a peep -- decided to call every single person in his phoneâs address book. Â LUCKY ME.
I look at my phone battery: 38%. Â I should probably not use my iPhone anymore, but what am I supposed to do during this stressful situation?! Â 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.
Itâs now 10:30. Â Iâm hot, Iâm full of rage. Â Iâm annoyed.
Iâm late for my client call.
I think about all the times the trains have been messed up in 2017 and I get annoyed. Â I THEN remember that I pay $300 a month for this godforsaken piss-poor service, and I start to see red. Â Breeeeeeeeeeathe, Allison, just breathe.
I hear the conductor make an announcement on the loudspeaker, so I take my headphone out to hear it. Â Only, I canât hear it, no one can -- the volume is too low and his voice is muffled. Â THE SPEAKERS DONâT WORK; WHY WOULD THEY???! Â People on my train laugh; Â the kind of laugh that happens when youâve lost your mind. Â Because we have.
Now, the worst happens... I lose cell phone service. Â No more Instagram stories, tweets and texts. Â This is it, I think, this is my home now. Â I live here. Â Iâm 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. Â Three hours of commuting. Â Two hours longer than normal. Â I stand up and just see a bunch of faces: disgruntled, defeated. Â Weâve been through battle together. Â 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. Â I make a VERY SERIOUS announcement. Â
âI need ten minutes before I can talk to anyone.â
And whatddya know, they listened. Â
So, not the greatest start to my day, but I survived. Â And to those who followed along on my little nightmare journey this morning, youâre the real MVPs. Â That couldnât have been easy to witness.
So, tell me: any fellow commuters out there? Â Got any nightmare stories for me?















