My Tickety Tack Trip Home (3 of 3)

Justine and her dad pick me up around 6 to catch the 6:35 train from New Haven to Boston. We plan on being there a little early, grab a coffee or something, and get into Boston in time to hit the bars and enjoy ourselves before my debut as RHA adviser at the first ever RHA event picking pumpkins.

When we get to the station, we purchase our train tickets-- and to our horror, realize that the train is an hour and fifteen minutes delayed. “That’s fine” I say, “We’ll still get in with time enough to hit the bars.” Justine is upset that Boston is not more like New York, where the bars are open until 4, but I am glad that Boston is not like New York because…uh… I fucking hate New York. However, I would appreciate the extra cushion of time that would afford us.
So we sit, we wait, we come up on the 1 hour 15 time, when our slot on the big board begins to change. Oh happy day! A track number!

Oh, by track number, I mean a delay of an additional hour and a half. So we’re looking at a 2 hour, 45 minute delay. I realize that we could have walked to Boston in that time, and Justine begins to realize that our seats seem to attract the crazies. Which is to say, there was the lady who was clearly talking to someone on the phone… if she had actually had a phone. Or the gentleman who, after muttering to himself in Arabic and English, holds up a pair of pants and yells “hey sweetie, I paid six dolllaaarr for these!” Justine’s eyes are trained on me, and I’m dying laughing.

Other highlights include….
-Hearing about “Twilight” and how the daughter’s name is Rennesme. FUCKING RENNESME. That’s an abomination upon names. That’s the name the moderately overweight goth girl in your high school took when she ran off to join the traveling renaissance faire to dance with dudes in Trogdor tee-shirts and green cargo shorts who think they are vikings.

-What sounded like a bus hitting the side of the train station. We decided it was the train
station settling, as old buildings do. Perhaps settling on a fault line.

-Watching three gentlemen who could have, under other circumstances, starred in a response video to “My New Haircut”. Fuckin’ skanks. One of whom may have been wearing a pattered fedora. I was horrified. HORRIFIED.

- Getting to our platform, only to be told that we should take the train at platform 8, which was supposed to arrive 3 hours after our train should have originally left.

- Telling a nice older couple that if they bought me the wood, I would build a boat and sail us to Boston. Then, having them get on the same subway as us after the train ride up. Maybe they wanted to make good on the promise of a boat?

Now we’re on the train, I’m typing this, and we’re both passing out. My head is starting to hurt, and I’m beginning to feel like maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t leave Boston again for a while.