(The "real" reunion post will show up tomorrow. This is a quickie, written while in The City, in a windowless cubicle in the basement of The Park South Hotel.)
OK, I suppose it wasn't as big a deal as the Northwest pilots who were surfing the web while flying over Minnesota, but we had our own travel snafu in NYC on Monday.
We'd wandered down to South Street Seaport, munching on hot pretzels and Sabrett hot dogs along the way. We'd shopped and looked at Trinity Church's graveyard and the hole in the ground that used to be the World Trade Center and we were ready to be reminded that Manhattan is really an island - we needed to see the water. Watching the river flow, drinking a beer, listening to a high school band play music from the 1940's..... we were definitely in New York.
Exhausted, we opted for the subway instead of walking back to the hotel. Found the station and asked the MTA men behind their bullet-proof windows for the proper train to take. It took the first guy several tries - he forgot to turn on the microphone, he didn't speak into his speaker phone, he spoke so quietly we couldn't hear, and his accent was so thick it was indecipherable. We went to the other window and asked our question again. "That would be the C train, downstairs."
A fellow traveller standing behind us said "the C????" but we thought the MTA guys knew what they were talking about so downstairs we went. Got on the C train and ended up in Brooklyn.
Exited at the first station and found a lovely transit cop who came out of her booth, shared her map, gave us detailed directions and agreed that we had been mis-informed. Got back on the C train to Nassau Street and tried again. Took the 4 to 14th Street, crossed the platform, took the 6 (a local) to 28th and Lex and there we were, across from the Park South.
I'm sending my ticket and a copy of this post to the MTA. We spoke English. We spoke clearly. We were certain of our destination. We were not rude. And we were given BAD AWFUL WRONG directions.
We want our money back.