So I never thought I’d say this, but I miss... NJ
Transit Trains. For a very long
time, they have been the Bain of my existence. My feeling is that the Gladstone line is like the redheaded
stepchild of NJ Transit. We have
only two direct trains going into the city and only two coming home. Otherwise you have the pleasure of
switching trains in either Newark or Summit, and your ride extends to about 90
minutes. Up until a few years ago
my Family was under the impression that taking the train in and coming home was
like a little Club Med vacation for me every day. (In their minds, I’d be lying back on a spacious cushioned
lounge chair in my cabana wear, having drinks with little umbrellas served to
me.) My wife and daughter
were enlightened one Sunday afternoon coming home from the city on a crowded
train after the Marathon. My
daughter looked at my wife and asked in horror, “Does Dad do this every
day?”
I could write for hours about how NJ Transit has
wronged me in a myriad of ways over the years, but what kind of sport is that
(wait for my next article). What’s
changed are the people who ride NJ Transit. We’ve been transformed. On the Gladstone line you have a wide dichotomy of people. One of the things that’s always amused
me is how the first person to a seat feels they own that particular seat (a
seat that fits 3 people). They
spread their stuff all over the seat. They do the very best job they can without looking
someone in the eye and confronting them, to dissuade others from sitting
down. And if you do decide to ask,
“Do you mind if I sit there?” They
give you this face that says, “Can’t you see this is going to be a major
imposition for me? I’ve got my
stuff everywhere…now I have to pick it all up. That’s going to take me at least 7 seconds…is it really that
important for you to sit for the next hour?”
In comes hurricane Sandy. The Fam and I are watching the movie, “The Day After
Tomorrow”, yes we’re sick people, and the power goes out. Then two large trees fall on the house,
no one is hurt but like everyone else we’re out of power… for 7 days. Over the next couple of days the family
becomes cold, cranky and we’re tired of peanut butter and jelly. (I of course am a beacon of light and
hope. I’ve been banned from the Kings
food store for trying to start a small business in their café selling ports on
my Power Strips (Seriously, the people at Kings deserve a lot of kudos for
staying open and helping people, they were very generous… and I’m sure after
the new year I’ll be able to return).
Being the great family provider that I am, I decide
its time to scurry back into the city to put in a full warm day’s work. (I’m not a very proud man) So now the challenge: How to get into
the city with few passable roads, bridges and tunnels…and rationed gas?
My neighbor and I team up. Our first attempt is a 4:30AM drive to the Lincoln Tunnel. We find an obscure park n ride lot in
the bowels of Kearney. It’s not
pretty or safe looking, but there are wide ranges of people in the same boat as
us who are waiting for a shuttle bus into Port Authority. This works for a day, but with the gas
shortage and the traffic back up at the approach to the Lincoln Tunnel we look
for a plan B. Plan B becomes
LakeLand Bus Company. I call on a
Sunday night and ask if you can buy a ticket on the bus heading into the
city. I’m told yes, and I hang
up. I forgot to ask a very important
question, “Are you running out of Far Hills like your website says you normally
do.” My neighbor and I are
standing in the brisk morning air (pre-dawn) waiting until we decide to call
again and ask…”Hey, where the @#&$% is the bus. Turns out, due to the storm, they’re only running out of
Summit. So we race to Summit. This is going to be beautiful, half of
central Jersey is going to Summit to try to get into the city. (Picture trying to jam 50 pounds of
crap into a 1-pound bag.)
I’m thinking about “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles”
where Dell Griffith asks Neil Paige, “Have you ever traveled by bus
before?” We’re the last two people
on the bus waiting outside the station and we’re off. Person in front of me reclines his seat back so far I can’t
open my laptop and get any work done…Its still dark and the lighting is poor so
I can’t read. I’m still
Thankful. I know if I remained
home there’s a good chance I’d drive my family away and become a contestant on
Divorce Court with Judge Judy. If
I thought coming into the city was problematic, going home made the ride in
seem like that imaginary Club Med trip my family was picturing. My new mantra is, “I AM THE 401.” 401 is our bus slot on the top floor of
the Port Authority building complex.
So now you have the 50 into 1 thing going on. You couple that with a billion cranky people who have no
idea where they’re going or what to do in Port Authority, they might as well be
in Bangladesh. We climb our way to
the top floor -think “Stairway to Heaven.” There is a mass of bewildered humanity that’s comparable to
something out of a biblical tale, but Moses is nowhere in sight. We get to a line that is doubling back
and forth at least 4 times and then trails out of the main waiting area up the
emergency staircase. We climb the
staircase and get on the end of the line to the 401. Its so depressing you can’t help but laugh…especially when
there are people coming after you asking, “Is this the line for the 401?” They really do not want to hear the
answer, but you’re more than happy to tell them as it gives you some comic
relief when you see the look on their faces and hear the various responses. So at one point a NY City
Policemen came to investigate us standing out in the stairwell. I guess he wanted to make sure we
didn’t get lost. As he turns
around to go back into the main waiting area a rather large individual is
coming towards us to become the latest person at the end of the 401 line. He meets the policemen right at the
doorway, and to my amazement, refuses to step aside and let the Cop pass. I’m thinking to myself, “Buddy, are you
serious? You’re not going to let
the Cop pass?” He finally comes to
his senses and inserts himself into the 401 line and the Policeman heads back
in. We’re now about 3 people from
the doorway and this knucklehead has decided, he’s going to plant himself
permanently in this spot and not head to the back of the line. I’ll have none of that. I run the 401, I AM the 401. The guy for some reason turns back to
look at the end of the line and catches my eye. In an act of shear stupidity, I say to him, “The End of the 401 is back
there” and I give him an idea of where that is with my thumb, not my middle
finger, my thumb. The guy
sheepishly gets out of line and heads past us. I’m now fully expecting to get a cell phone planted in the
back of my head. My neighbor
throughout this whole ordeal has been trying to figure out how his new iPhone5
works and missed all the action.
I explain to him that the next time I pick a fight with someone twice
our size; I’d appreciate it if he’d pay attention.
So we’re surviving on the 401 for a few days. The bus lane going into the city works
great. Quite often I’ll thumb my
nose as I’m expressing past all the common folk stuck in bumper to bumper
traffic heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.
That is unless of course there is an accident in the Express Bus Lane…which
happens…to me. And there is
absolutely nowhere to go. You are
stuck there until hell freezes over, which of course happened when the
nor’easter hit. Think of your
worst commuting nightmare and then insert a couple of orders of magnitude.
One night last week just as I’m about to try and
catch a bus on the 401, my wife calls me and says, “Whatever you do, to not try
to come home now. There are two
hour delays in and around Port Authority.
They’re telling everyone to just stay put.” What’s next, “Pestilence!?!”
After a while I walk down into Penn Station…I look
at the NJ Transit train board. I rub
my eyes to ensure I’m seeing clearly…there’s a Dover Train running to
Summit. I get on the train, there
is a slight delay leaving…signal trouble but we’re #5 in line to leave. I’m in a two-seater with no one
sitting next to me…it feels like Club Med.
