On my way back (which started with my first ever NYC cab ride - a cleaner, faster and friendlier experience than I ever imagined), I got distracted by a couple of phone messages and calls....didn't realize that I needed to change trains in Newark. I started to see towns flashing by that weren't on my route, and about the time I realized I needed to do something about it, I was in a place called Metropark.
From there, I hopped on train that could best be described a 3/4s century ugly (as opposed to all the mid-century modern that seems to be just about everywhere else these days)...anyway, the train was covered in laminate, linoleum, and vinyl (in varying shades of brown and beige), and I was anything but convinced that it was the right place to be. The unsettling thought that I might be stranded somewhere between Newark and Seacaucus for the night (the map on my phone showed a crazy U turn like trajectory / no more connecting trains until after 5am in the morning) was starting to worry me. This isn't the first time something like this has happened to me in a new place, but last time I wasn't alone for it.
Luckily, the strangers were friendly and reassuring. I crossed a lovely train conductor, a sweet old man who walked me to the right track (and personally and profusely apologized for not telling me I needed to change trains) and a woman who offered me her crumpled and expired bus schedule that might get me close to where I needed to be.
My first real moment of knowing I'd make it back came here: with a bright sign that showed that the next train home would arrive in a few minutes...I don't think I've ever been so happy in an empty (but well-lit) train station in my life, and spent a few grateful moments enjoying the view of the mist and marshes and the city lights before heading home.
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