Having figured out a decent and the most direct way to work after only a few experienced setbacks, I finally had the blissful feeling of confidence. "I'm a big kid now. Look, I have my big kids pants on, and I can get to work all by myself now! I deserve a cookie!"
Either New York still hasn't warmed up to me yet, or it has a subtle way of saying "No. You don't need that cookie. I'm doing something to shatter everything possible that would even make you think you deserve one."
It began as a normal day. For a few weeks now I was able to walk out the doors to the subway station, and take the subway to my bus connection which would take me to work. Maybe I had grown too secure in believing the subway would always be there for me, because today it had a nasty sign posted that it wouldn't. Neither train in either direction would be passing through.
"J Train Closed. Take the shuttle bus, located at an address you have no idea where to even begin to head off to, and shuffle around awkwardly until you decide your next game-plan that will more than likely be spending a good amount of time asking the people who don't look completely shady, and that you'll probably annoy in the process. Good luck with your self esteem."
Great.
Stubborn, I tried to find the address for the substitution bus, only to end up annoying the people who didn't look completely shady for directions.
For twenty minutes I waited at the shuttle stop, slightly annoyed, but comfortable in the fact I had left early enough that I'd still be fine.
Finally, the bus pulled up, and everyone who had gathered at the stop filed on. I settled back to get comfortable until the next transfer, and 45 seconds later, the driver stopped the bus. "All Out!"
Somebody had obviously asked a question, because in response, a bus driver who had obviously dealt with this from several people who didn't have a clue all morning stated in a rather aggressive manner: "This ain't no damn shuttle bus. If you want the shuttle you have to wait at the shuttle stop."
Ah.
At least I wasn't alone.
Like sheep, several of us bailed on the shuttle idea altogether, and began to walk a mile to the next station we were originally meant to take the shuttle to.
After getting there, I found out that we were to take the shuttle to another shuttle that would take us to the next available station for the J that I needed to take. Being sure to be very, very thorough, I boarded the shuttle.
"This is the shuttle bus?"
"Yes."
"This is the shuttle bus to Broadway Junction?"
"Yes."
"This is the shuttle bus to Broadway Junction that I can then make a connection to the J?"
"Yes."
"This is the shuttle--"
"Please move to the back of the bus maam."
"Ok.''
There was a huge mistake made, however, in believing that the hard part was over. Never, NEVER believe that the hard part is over. You're setting yourself up for failure.
I rode the shuttle bus that would take me to Broadway Junction to make a connection to my J. Exiting the bus, I saw above ground tracks high in the air. I could see the tracks, I could see the trains, and I could see the people. The one thing I had failed to see were the stairs.
Feeling this would be an easy solution, I went around the block, keeping the tracks in site.
No. No stairs.
Alright then.
I went around the next block.
No.
Fine.
"Excuse me....Hi. Where is the entrance to the train?"
"Eh?"
Uh oh. No English.
"Up...there? Up, tracks? Yes? I'd like to get up there."
"Eh?"
Well crap.
It's all good. Crowded street, so many people. No big deal. So many more people to ask.
"Oh hello there. Excuse me, can you--"
"Eh?"
Alright then. No good. One more.
"Hel--"
"Eh?"
Are you FREAKING SERIOUS?
Everyone that I came across didn't speak any English. If they did, it was broken and hard to understand.
Tactics changed, and let me tell you-- It is VERY hard to mime stairs while pointing obviously up to the tracks above. I was walking my fingers up my arm - signing little stick figure men - and pointing. Always pointing.
Every time I did feel like I was getting through to someone, they would point me in the opposite direction of the person before me. Each time I would wander off where the pointed me, failing to find any stairs, and would find someone else to point some more.
Uh-oh.
All of a sudden I felt the tightening feeling in my chest.
Don't....don't do it. Don't----
"Excuse me, do you know----waaaaaaaaaaaah!"
I had changed my approach. Now I was bawling as I pointed. In my head, I knew how it looked. I was a soggy white girl who had made the same rounds around the block 8 times now.
A week prior, a thought began to form clearly in my head. "I'm getting older. I'm actually starting to feel like an adult now. A grown woman. A grown woman in New York."
Between sniffles and more points, I felt like I just backtracked on one of the most important discoveries I had come to. I was beyond pathetic.
Finally running into a police officer, I only pointed and cried.
"I need to find the J......The Jaaaaaaaaaay!"
The officer looked at me. "Take the stairs."
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
"Maam, you need to calm down. Just take the stairs, it's not that hard."
"You don't understaaaaaaaand!!!!"
Finally...FINALLY I found them. Coming across them was like finding the entrance to Narnia - they were hidden in an entryway buried by trees and gates. It was absolutely beautiful. These stairs....these beautiful, beautiful stairs.
The rest of the route to work was familiar to me, except that even leaving an hour early, I would be ending up a half an hour late.
After my bus connection and getting off at the proper stop, I found myself immersed in a giant political protest. A huge amount of people lined the streets with pickets, screaming at cars. I awkwardly stood at the crosswalk waiting for the light to change while cars honked and people yelled through megaphones and waved signs that I didn't completely understand.
I couldn't imagine the commute ending any other way.
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