Waiting at Penn

So I came back to Boston. Liz's dad needed some extra help at his store and I could use the money so bam. The sooner I got up there the better so I found a train that would leave Penn at 3:15 A.M and would arrive in Boston at 7:40. (cost of ticket $78) Tommy dropped me off at Huntington State to take the 11:30 into Penn which by the time I would arrive, would give me a 2 and a half hour hold over.

When I got to Penn I went up the stairs to wait at the Amtrack area. I bought my tickets and dropped off my bags at the waiting area. Bored, I decided to walk around the station for a bit. The upper portion of the station was pretty empty. Shops had their metal gates down denying me much needed Trident and janitors rode mini zambonis waxing the floors. I did two laps around the level and when I got bored of the Mike's Hard Lemonade ads I went back to the waiting area

The chairs were a very ugly shade of blue that looked like something even the 70s would have found offending. They were gloriously uncomfortable with little back support and zero neck support. The guy sitting to my right was sleeping, using the classic travelers position of the legs cross and arms folded in an attmept to stay warm while his head bobbed suffering from self induced whip lash. To my left a man was asleep with his mouth open and legs all the way strecthed out so he was about a 135 degree angle. His girlfriend was asleep face down in the crotch of his black levi jeans. I swear to God if I didnt want to look like a perv I would have taken a picture..the memories would have to do.

In my quest to stay awake I went downstairs in search of Iced Coffee and was greated with the all to familar late night Saturday night Exodus of Penn Station.

Like Salmon or some sort of migratory bird, the drunks of Long Island and New Jersey were making their way back home. Girls in bright dresses, skirts, and outfits that must have looked great at 9:00 now limped and stumbled home.

The over controling friend holding her girlfriend's arm passed me. She had the grip of a British nanny as she guided her drunken buddy to the bathroom to throw up that last shot of Jager. I walked past a very tan and blond couple still slow dancing in front of Rose's Pizza. The cops shook their heads and laughed as Fred Astaire attemped to twirl his partner and she hit into a garbage can.

At first the drunks were in isolate clusters around the station. Propping themselves against columns or ticket machines. Some sat cross legged rehyrdating themsleves surronded by water and gatorade bottles. These were the ones that were the worse off, pushing themselves away from the large group. Maybe they were isolated like drunken lepers.

I stepped over a puddle of vomit and got closer to the main corridor of the Long Island Rail Road. There was my Dunken Donuts but also the drunks. It reminded me of a nature video when you see seals lining the beach just hanging out, I imagined the smell was similar.

On the way in they must have all been so well dressed and smelt like designer cologne/perfume. Walking through the station proud ready to conquer the night. Now they resemebled a retreating army. Instead of missing limbs you have missing purses and debit cards. Hair that at one point was jelled or straightened was now frizz. Buttons were lose and heels abandoned. Some were now left behind, to face a long cab home caused by a hookup to be forgotten.

I navigated my way through them, the only non-uniformed sober person there. Some were drinking beer from brown bags while others consumed pretzals, pizza, and any other carb they could get their hands on. I honestly felt that I was invisible to them. My sobriety had made me invisible to them.

I walked past a girl who was leaning face down against the column. Her right boob was two seconds from popping out. A concerned woman was trying to talk to her asking if she was ok while her drunk b/f assured the Samaritan that he could handle the situation.

I got my coffee and bought a water for the girl with no face. When I passed them again she was standing up leaning against the garbage can, mammary safetly concealed. I gave the b/f the bottle of water and the Romeo thanked me then drank some Bud Light.

On the lower level you have young people from the suburbs in nice clothes ready to go home and nurse their hangover. On the upper level you have the city's homeless sleeping by the entrances of the station. By one door you have to walk over other human beings to make it to the stair case. These people have no where to go the next day.

People sleeping in Penn by choice and some by neccesity