Patience pays off this morning. A crowded R train platform, a crowded train pulls in and people squeeze on. It's 8:16, late but not too late. I plant my back against the station wall and wait. V train comes a few minutes later. COULD take the V, but transfer will take longer. It's sort of crowed, too. I let it pass, keep waiting for the next R. The platform is now blessedly uncongested.
The R pulls in. Glance at my watch. Only 8:20. Beautiful. And there's ROOM! I have to stand, but I have the coveted spot by the door, where I can lean (as opposed to gripping a pole), which means I can write.
For some reason, I'm more often inspired to write in a train full of people or in a noisy Starbucks than in front of my computer screen. I don't know where such inspiration comes from, if it's not coming from the collective consciousness of everyone around me. If it's ONLY coming from my own mind, I would find it easier to write in solitude -- but that's always hit and miss.
Anyway, I won't get into gory details of last night's commute home but suffice it to say that the MTA screwed me over. It took nearly two-and-a-half hours to get home, which included over an hour of standing out in the wind and cold. This was partially based on buses not being where they were supposed to be WHEN they were supposed to be, and bad decisions on my part for alternate transportation. I felt like a fool. P. says maybe I should have taken a cab home. Where we live, way out in Queens, it could cost up to $50. Knowing later what I eventually had to go through last night, a cab would have been worth it.
Work was tough. I was exhausted and not very productive after only getting around 5 hours sleep.
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