Sad saga of a three and a half hour commute

Wrong decisions aren't necessarily bad decisions. After all, choosing to walk from Maze on 54Th street to Penn Station on a beautiful night isn't a bad decision. As it turned out, though, is was the wrong decision. So shortly before 10pm I set out on foot to enjoy the night and sights of midtown Manhattan.

A wise man would have checked his watch. And a wise man would know the train schedule. I did not check either my watch or the schedule; two mistakes I should not make as a seasoned commuter. 

As it turns out, these were unfortunate errors because I arrived at Penn Station just minutes after my train had left. The next train was at 11:18pm, just under an hour wait.

Penn Station in New York is not a very pleasant place. During the day is bustles with activity as commuters pour out in the morning and pour back in later. Commuters are like automatons; showing little emotion they rush to their destination trying to interact with other as little as possible. There is nothing interesting or pretty about the station, it is completely utilitarian. At night it is a popular hang-out for the homeless. I spent my hour in the NJ Transit waiting area with my nose to my BlackBerry.

When the train was available for boarding, I found a quiet seat near the back and promptly fell asleep. I was awakened later by the conductor's announcement that our train had lost power. We had made it as far as the Secaucus transfer station; in the middle on the New Jersey swamps. The train was dead and the next one would be an hour wait.

By time I was home, it was 2am in the morning. After a half hour walk through Manhattan, an hour wait at Penn Station, an hour wait after my train was disabled, and an hour train ride home. Commuting is a bitch. But had I decided to take a cab to Penn Station, or even jump on the subway, I would have caught the 10:18 train and would have been snuggled in bed before midnight. Instead I made a wrong decision and paid the consequences.