I thought I had the transit system all figured out, but I discovered yesterday morning that I was wrong. After running some errands, I took the subway up to Herald Square, which is near Penn Station. By the time I got there, though, I had maybe ten minutes left before the train to Long Beach was scheduled to depart. The real problem, though, was that I wasn’t entirely certain how to get to Penn Station. First, I ended up at the station for the PATH trains, which go to New Jersey. (Wrong direction entirely.) When I went out to the street, I went the wrong way down the sidewalk and lost even more time backtracking. All the while, I fretted over the prospect of missing the 11:03 train. So… I began running.
Mind you, it’s been one of the hottest weekends of the summer. I wasn’t running full speed or anything, but was rather doing one of those rushed-walking-but-not-quite-jogging moves that people seem to do only when they’re rushing toward a mass transportation system (i.e. airplane, bus, or train). By the time I reached the station, I was a sweaty, frazzled mess… and I hadn’t even left Manhattan.
I rushed into the station at 11:02, one minute before the train was scheduled to depart. The station was buzzing with people, mostly beachgoers headed to sandy sanctuaries as far from the city as possible. There were lines of at least fifteen or twenty people at every ticket vending machine, which worried me, but when I saw a picture of a MetroCard on one of the machines, I reasoned with myself that I’d be fine with my subway pass and decided to make a run for it.
And run I did – this time, literally. I raced down the platform, only to meet a wall of people at door after door after door. Since this was an “actual” train, I didn’t dream they’d let people stand while riding, but I was dead wrong. These train cars were packed more tightly than a subway in rush hour. When the conductors shouted the all-aboard call, I was still scrambling to find a way to get on the train. Unable to find an opening (and still concerned about the ticket situation), I gave up then and there.
It turned out to be a good decision. I called Brian to let him know I’d be an hour later than planned, bought an actual train ticket from the machine, and settled down in the waiting area with the book I began reading the other night. When noon rolled around, I got in line to be sure to find a seat. The train ride was very comfortable, and nine or ten chapters later, I was in Long Beach.
The first thing I noticed when I stepped off the train was the sky. Without buildings obscuring my view, the blue blanket of sky extended from one side of the horizon all the way to the other. And there was grass! (Truth be told, I spent most of the day in amazement over the simple pleasures of being in an “actual” town. This probably got annoying.)
Brian met me at the station and we took the bus to his parents’ house, where we ate sandwiches for lunch. The beach is only a short walk from the house – only a few blocks – so we packed up our stuff and were at the ocean in a matter of minutes.
We sat out in beach chairs for probably four hours, talking and taking in the sea breeze and sunshine. Being on the beach was a complete 180 from my new everyday life, so I soaked up every second of it. And how could you not? The air was ten degrees cooler than in the city, the wind was moving at a brisk (yet not overwhelming) pace, and the sand was probably the finest I’d seen. What an amazingly pleasant place.
Before going back to the house, we went over to the short to at least set foot in the ocean. Never did swim, though – maybe next time.
As the temperature began to cool and the waves grew more rough, we took a bike ride down the boardwalk. The bicycles we rode, like many we passed, were much like the entire town – comfortable and classic. They had long handlebars and no handbrakes. I can’t tell you how long it had been since I’d backpedaled to stop a bike.
Long Beach is a quintessential beach town – small, cute cottages, neighbors who still say hello. Once or twice, we passed areas where people were having block parties. (In the literal sense – streets blocked off so neighbors could have parties in the street! Who does that anymore?) In short, if it weren’t for the exorbitant real estate costs, I’d move there in a heartbeat.
Nearly five miles later, we’d ridden the length of the boardwalk and back through town. His mom had macaroni salad ready when we got back, so we grilled some burgers and ate dinner on the back patio with his parents. Unfortunately, I had to literally eat and run, as I had to catch the 8:45 bus to make it to the 9 p.m. train. The whole day was like a mini-vacation. As the train pulled into Penn Station, I finished the final page of my book – a perfect way to finish a nearly perfect day.
Today, Laurel and I went to the Nederlander Theater to try our hand at getting tickets for Rent. Unlike with Spring Awakening, Rent works on a lottery system. Everyone who shows up at the box office at a given time puts their name in a hat, and names are drawn until the discounted seats are gone. I found the process to be very nerve-wracking, as we could easily lose out and be back at square one. Once Laurel and I put our names in, we went to some scaffolding across the street to knock on wood for good luck. A little superstition never hurt, eh?
Apparently it worked, as my name was among the first called. As I walked into the theater to buy our tickets, I felt like I’d won the golden ticket to go into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. With the show scheduled to close in early September, this was probably our last chance to see a live performance – and we got it! In fact, we managed to get front-row seats for $20 each. Compared to the usual price of $110 apiece, I’d say we got a sweet deal.
I enjoyed the show, though probably not as much as with Spring Awakening or Hairspray. I suppose I’m a bit put-off by how people sensationalize Rent. It’s a good musical, but you can’t possibly tell me that watching a two-and-a-half hour show was the turning point in your life… yet that’s what so many people had written on the doors of the theater. Just appreciate it for what it is – a good show – and leave the drama for the actors.
(Still, I’m not complaining. We were extraordinarily lucky for that to have turned out the way it did.)
Tonight was the end of the regular season for our basketball league. My team ended up dead last – completely defeated – but still had fun. I’m still terrible at basketball.
Really, that’s it. It’s safe to say I’d count this among the best weekends I’ve had here. Less than two weeks remain before I go back, so I plan to make the best of it.
