Story of the Day 8/18/2008

We are trying to recover.

I know that people return from vacations and trips worn out from their activities and even hung-over, but I think Sarah and I were more ………than that.

Our last day- well, when we though it was our last day, Jon- the organizer for the conference- said he hoped to see us, “next year.’ That was his hint that the next JDC (Jewish Deaf Congress) conference would be in 2009.
Now, traditionally, their conferences are every two years. That means that the conference we attended should have been last year…but because of calendar issues and conflicts, like the World Deaf Conference in 2007, it was decided to skip a year.

Apparently, this created two problems. One is that the by-laws lay out elected terms, and it threw a bit o f a wrench into that order. And, two, people thought that the JDC had folded…a fate that has happened to several other Jewish deaf organizations, over the years.

So, the next conference could very well be next year.

Only, I can’t imagine we will see Jon there, because I doubt we will have recovered sufficiently to face attending.

Well, maybe if it is in Indianapolis…


So, that was motzi Shabbat our conversation with Jon. Motzi Shabbat means Saturday night, after Shabbat has ended. And we had been going back and forth about when we should leave to catch our Amtrak train from New York. But it had been decided before Shabbat- and we certain this was the end of our stay at the hotel.

You see, several months ago, when I looked into getting to and from the conference, there was an Amtrak train that left directly from Princeton Junction- which is 5 miles from the hotel. And the Sunday morning train went to Indianapolis. An odd and contorted route, to be sure, but we wouldn’t’ have to change trains.

Perfect!
Except that, one day this summer, the train disappeared.


Well, I called Amtrak.
“What happened to the train from Princeton junction to Indianapolis that was scheduled to depart on Sunday, August 18th? We were supposed to be on it. ”
“Oh, we no longer provide service through Princeton Junction.””But what about the train that was scheduled for that date.”

I am hearing the theme music from the Twilight Zone playing in the background.
It isn’t comforting.
”Passengers will have to decide which nearby station they want to use to board the train.”Nearby?
Well, New York’s Penn Station was a good bit nearer than Virginia…

So, I found out that we could catch the New Jersey Transit’s commuter train from Princeton Junction to Penn Station.
And when I called the hotel, they said that they ran a shuttle, and that we could just give them the time we wanted it. They would take us to the NJT station.

Okay, we were back from the Twilight Zone.

Sort of.

When we arrived at the hotel, and got somewhat settled, I asked the concierge for the New Jersey transit train schedule.
Turns out we had two choices, taking a morning train, the very first one on Sunday morning, from Princeton Junction that would arrive in New York with about 14 minutes for us t get from the commuter train to our Amtrak train, or one that left, the last train Saturday night, at 1:11 AM (okay, really Sunday morning), that would get us into Penn Station about 4 ½ hours before our train would leave for Indianapolis.

Sarah and I weighed the pros and cons.

We spoke with numerous people about the amount of time needed to get from one part ( NJT) of Penn Station to the other (Amtrak), and we were told it was about 10-12 minutes at a very fast walk. But that involved going up and down stairs- and we were loaded down with two heavy suitcases on wheels and a backpack.

Despite the desire to get some sleep in a bed, we opted too go on eth red-eye, and spend the 4 ½ hours sitting on a bench at Penn Station.
This meant no risk of missing our train home. An important little detail, since all of the Monday trains were sold out, and there was a Tuesday morning train that still had seats, a couple of months ago, but who knows what the situation was, by now.

So, Sarah and I decided to take a nap, on Shabbat- a common enough thing for people to do, but ours had the motive of allowing us to not be completely incoherent by Sunday morning’s 6:55 AM Amtrak departure time.

We were also told that Penn Station was an okay place to wait.
This had been a bit of a concern of mine, since I remember it from 23 years ago.
It was definitely no place you should want to take a date, and you had to be careful to keep your purse tucked tightly under your arm at all times and to not make eye-contact with anyone.
Un-like our “Jesus love” lady from the Columbus bus-station, the Penn Station characters were unlikely to be benign.

However, I was told that the atmosphere of Penn Station had changed, substantially for the better.

This was thanks to September 11, because now Penn Station was patrolled, at all times, by soldiers.

Okay, I am seeing that this will be an interesting experience, and I am really glad that I look like a haggard and somewhat overweight middle aged mother and not a potential terrorist…….


So, I , ask the hotel to arrange for a cab to pick us up at 10:45 PM for the three-minute ride to the Princeton Junction station. This should leave us plenty of time to get the 1:11.
The hotel employee tells me that the cab company is very reliable. This is after we discuss whether I might want a car service, instead.

Sarah and I are out at the front of the hotel by 10:30. And we wait.
And we wait.
And we wait.
At 10:55, I go into the hotel and ask (luckily the same person who had called) if they could call the taxi station again.
They don’t pick up the phone.

One of the other workers, grabs some keys and says, “come on, it is very quiet, I will drive you there.”So, she kindly takes us off in the shuttle and drops us at the station near the cab stand, where a half dozen taxis are lined up…….

We try the kiosk to buy a ticket, but it is having a hard time taking my charge card, and I want to get to the train platform on time, so I cancel it and figure I will just pay a few extra dollars on the train.

We cross over to the platform and wait. A girl- college-aged?_ comes over. She is on her cell phone. She tells me that the train left early. She has also missed it, she thought she was 10 minutes early, and the train closed it’s doors before she could get up to it. She is now calling her dad to come pick her up.

Sarah and I cross back over to the cab stand.

It is deserted.
There is another young woman, maybe 25, and I ask her if there is a public phone. I need the phone book or information or something to call a cab.
She says there isn't’ one.

She leaves and Sarah and I are at the now empty station in the dark.
This is worse than hearing the Twilight Zone theme. It is 1:15 AM, and anyone we run into is not likely to be friendly.
I was okay with sitting at Penn Station for 4 ½ hours, but I am not okay with sitting out here with my daughter .
There are no friendly soldiers. Heck, in this situation, I would probably consider them friendly looking if they thought I looked like a potential terrorist!
I shed tears for about 15 seconds, then apologized to Sarah
“I’m sorry, I am supposed to be strong for you and not cry.”
Now I get to feel guilty about being deficient as a mother.

So I call Lynne.

The second I hear her voice, I feel better.
I ask her if she still has the number for the hotel.
I know I have it, but am not sure where it is packed.
We are both looking. She on her end, and I on mine.
I find it.
“Thanks.”And when I am dialing, a cab pulls up. He wants a G-d awful sum for the same 3-minute trip back to the hotel, but he also knows I have to pay it- which I do.

So we are back at the hotel- and the same lady who drove us out to the station is at the desk. She tells us she will get us to the station , in the morning ( well, later this same morning). She tells me she had a feeling she should have stayed- and that the trains are sometimes early and sometimes late. We will hear that remark, again, a few more times , this day. She works until 9 AM, so, even though the shuttle isn’t supposed to run that early, she will get us there.
I thank her profusely.

Well, they manage to give us our room back- and we get some sleep. I sleep about 30 minutes and Sarah sleeps for about 2 hours.
Hey, I tried!

And then we are off, again.

Lynne, meanwhile, has searched the web.
ALL SHE IS FINDING ARE SOLD OUT TRAINS.
We may have to make our way to Philadelphia, if we don’t make it to our train, and try to get plane tickets to fly home.


This time, the New Jersey transit experience is better.
Our conductor is named Frank.
I ask him which direction we need to walk from the train to get to the Amtrak area of Penn Station- I don’t’ want to waste any time being lost.
He asks what time our train is.
I pull out our tickets and show him.
“That is close.” He says.
But then he gives me detailed instructions on exactly how to go . First, we have to make it from one end of the train we are on to the other. We should only do this when the train is stopped. (We have many stops and more than an hour. No problem.)Then, when we get off at Penn Station, we need to exit to the right and go past the first set of stairs.
Turn right for the stairs that are short and then have a ramp.
After that there will be an escalator nearby. He continues on with his directions,.
He tells me we can make it if we go that way. Bags or not.

He also tells us he’s named for his father, but he has broken the tradition and given his son a different name.
His brother lives in Indiana- he is a teacher of Political Science at IU, and Frank likes Indiana. It is very clean.

His directions were good. We get to the gate for the Amtrak train 4 minutes early.
We get on and get seats together. Not a problem, at this point- but it will be a problem for people boarding at later stops.

The moment I sit down, I feel very peaceful.
I tell Sarah, “We are really going to go home.”

Of course, considering our trip out, that might have been a foolishly idealist remark.

So, I am not sure if we will be ready to attend another conference in only a year.

We need time to recover.

And I wonder why none of our friends ever want to go on trips with us.