The Great, Metaphorical Train Trip

I’m a city mouse.  I’ve taken public transportation all of my life.  On Friday, I had a pretty strange trip home from a great downtown lunch with a friend… one I can only look at after the distance of the weekend as symbolic in a lot of ways.  My train ride home should’ve been fairly straightforward: the 1 train (preferably the express) all the way to the last stop… a little light reading, a quick doze, checking out the other passengers without looking like I’m checking them out…

On my way to the 1 train platform at the 14th Street station, a woman asked me, “Does the 1 train stop here?”  When I replied that it should, she said, “I’ve been waiting and waiting, and it hasn’t come.”

I didn’t have an answer for her, but I proceeded down the stairs anyway to wait in the grimy, rancid, blistering heat that is unique to the NYC subway.  Aware of the woman’s fruitless wait and not wanting to perspire in the train tunnel for another five seconds, I audibly sighed with disappointment when the approaching train was an F train and not the 1.  It was hot, I was tired, the signs were misleading, and I probably wasn’t in the right place, so I jumped on the F train solely for respite.  It would be air conditioned, and I could reroute myself once in cooler climes.

Once on the train, looking at the map… oh crap! This train doesn’t run along the 1 track anymore! It runs slightly east (and ultimately to Queens).  I hop off at 23rd Street.  Now what? Turn around and take the F train back to 14th Street, so I can wait there for the 1? No.  I don’t want to go backwards.  I’ll hop on the B and head uptown.  There has to be some better option once I get to 42nd Street.

Hop off the B train (which just might be the oldest, smelliest, cruddiest trains in our transit system) at 42nd to check the map.  I’m tired, I’m hot, I’m disoriented, I’m making stupid decisions that are taking me waaaaay out of my way.

At 42nd Street, I intend to ascend to street level and walk my way back to the 1 train.  I go past the turnstile (which means I can’t switch to another train anymore without paying subway fare again) and check the map.  Oh crap! I could’ve just stayed on the B until 59th Street and transferred to the 1 there.  Well, duh.  I’m not going to head back up to the street now.  I’m going to pay for another Metrocard and get back on the B.

Alas- finally thinking clearly! I transfer at Columbus Circle and ride the rest of the way home.  But the entire time, I’m thinking how like my life this train ride is.  I knew where I wanted to end up, but I took a BIG, ole detour to get there.  Right now, I’m preparing to the next step in a happy, healthy relationship, which is where I’ve always wanted to be.  Today’s trip reminds me of the 10 years I spent with the alcoholic, my detour, which was also full of twists, turns, decisions not fully thought out, and delays…

So here’s what I gather from my trip today:

1. I got myself derailed by being in a rush to escape discomfort and acting without thinking through all options.
2. I could have avoided the whole delay by taking a minute, even if that meant sitting in the discomfort long enough to see which options were available to me.
3. I could have avoided the delay by checking to make sure I was in the right place.
4. Sometimes my choice meant more discomfort or more money.  To my credit, I wasn’t afraid of either and ultimately made good decisions to get myself back on track.
5. I didn’t go backwards.
6. I kept going, putting one foot in front of the other, and doing the next right thing until I found my way back to where I wanted to be.
7. It took me an extra hour to get home, but that’s okay.  It’s uncanny how, when I get lost, the exploration often serves me at a later date.  I’ll need to get somewhere else and find my way more easily because “Oh yeah, I remember this place.  I got lost here once.”  (Nothing like getting lost in a new place to help you remember its details!) How like program! Getting lost ultimately serves us because it gives us the tools to find our way next time.
8. Delayed time isn’t lost or wasted time.  Being lost means learning, and that’s okay.

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