magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

It seems like there's probably a way to get from my new place to the MetroNorth station in Harlem at 125th Street, that would be easier than traveling all the way down to Grand Central on 42nd. But, I haven't really looked into it yet, and probably should do the test run when I'm not in a rush and carrying a bunch of luggage (mostly just dirty clothes).

I got to Grand Central with about five minutes to make the 1.48 train. I waited in line at the automated ticket machines, only to find out that 'Credit and debit cards not accepted at this time. Cash only. Sorry for the inconvenience.' I had a ten dollar bill. One way, the trip is just over that. I went to the ticket windows. Waited in line again. As the departure time was approaching I got close enough to the front of the line to overhear someone arguing with the guy in the booth about only taking cash.

'Fuck it,' I said to myself. 'I don't have time to find an ATM machine, and am not waiting around another two hours for the next train. I'm just going to get on and try my luck.'

I called my mom from the train. 'I'm headed out of the city, and if they don't kick me off the train I should be at the Wassaic station around four.' I explained the situation. I noticed that the guy across from me was looking in his wallet, presumably with the intention of offering me the extra couple of bucks to make up the ticket price. I would have been doing the same thing, but somehow, being on the receiving end, made me terribly uncomfortable.

When the conductor got to my seat I told him my story. Before he could respond the train was pulling into the 125th Street station and he excused himself to open the doors, told me he'd be back. He never actually came back to deal with me, although I made nervous, expectant eye contact with him a few times during the trip. I didn't read. I didn't listen to music. I felt like I wasn't really entitled to enjoy the ride that it was increasingly obvious that I wasn't going to have to pay for.

At Southeast, where I had to transfer, he waved me off the train. The conductor on the train from Southeast to Wassaic, when I told him I had to pay for the remainder of my trip, dismissively waved away my ten dollar bill.