Rookie Mistake: I Thought The Express Train Would Run Express Because It’s The Express Train. Nope, It’s A Local.

Hand raised, this one’s on me.  Ya see, as I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that in life accountability is everything and you need to make it a point to own up when you’re in the wrong … or for those of you like me that are married, when you’re right as well.  Well yesterday was one of those days.  I fucked up.  What I did was a flat out rookie mistake.  It’s the type of mistake that happens when you get too comfortable.  The kind of mistake that happens when you think you’re hot shit because you got a monthly pass and no longer have to deal with having a panic attack when your phone hits a dead-zone and you can’t activate your ticket.

To be frank, I’m embarrassed and ashamed, but like I said, I’m a grown ass man and it’s time to own up.  So here’s what happened – on my way home from work I opted to take the Express Train out of Penn Station.  Of course I thought it would be Express because it said that it was in fact, an Express train.  You follow?  Well, it turned out to be a Local.  And even though there was no announcement that it was a Local train until we left the station or that I was locked in there like a rat in a cage with no choice but to stay, I still maintain that THIS IS ON ME.  How foolish of my spoiled monthly pass toting ass to think that I was gonna cruise home in a swift 32 minutes?  This is exactly why the old timers and the veteran commuters look down on a newbie like me.  Bottom line, I don’t know shit about commuting and today I got smashed in the face with a fist full of knowledge and local stops in towns I’ve never heard of.

At least some dude named Ernesto had my back!

Thanks, bro!

I personally would have went with “bag of dicks”, but dickbags is just as good, if not better.  Anyway, let’s take a step back real quick and go to the beginning …

So here I was rolling up to Penn Station with a shit eating grin on my face.  It was the first time I didn’t need an E-Ticket and as pure usual, I left some time to collect myself and stretch out my hamstrings and quads (because I lift, bro) well ahead of the mad dash to the track.  I even walked up to the main concourse with a notable pep in my step.  So far, my commute home was flawless, that was, until I was greeted with a sea of disgusting humanity that smelled like a combination of Auntie Anne’s pretzels and body odor…

Woodstock 2018

Ummm … is this safe?  Is this normal?  It looks like fucking Woodstock out here and track 9 was the Main Stage.  Once I saw this I shed my coat to avoid overheating and proceeded to stare at the LED board like I was on mushrooms watching the movie, Shrek.  As soon as my track was listed I tried to sprint there to hopefully grab myself a prime time seat.  Unfortunately I couldn’t sprint because there was in fact, no where to move.   The only thing I could do was look on in sheer terror as the mob continued to swarm me.  And when I say swarm, I mean it in the literal sense as at one point I gave up and just let some dude run over my foot with his suitcase to get by.  I didn’t care and frankly, it didn’t fucking matter because even if I wanted to say something people would just ignore me like they do the crazies on the MTA that tell you to read the Bible or you’re going straight to hell.  Well, I hate to break it to ya, you crazy bastard, but you’re too late bro, we’re riding NJTRANSIT, so we’re already in hell and I’m sweating my fucking balls off down here.  Now go tell Satan to crank the A.C. for me …

In the midst of this mayhem and being pissed off, something caught my eye that cheered me up immediately.  I simply couldn’t help but just laugh to myself as I saw this little woman directly in front of me was dawning one of the worst touristy backpacks of all time …

Yep, lady, you’re in Newwww Yooorrrrkkkk alight, but I’m not Alicia Keys and this is ain’t the place where dreams are made of.  It’s the fucking concrete jungle where your dreams are crushed and you’re forced to spend an hour plus each morning dragging your ass back here so that you can be told by your boss at work that you need to increase your productivity in the office by 25%.

Anyway, as soon as I hit the ground level I sprinted to the end of the track to get a seat because I figured that everyone was either too defeated or too out of shape to walk that extra 200 feet.  HAVE FUN STANDING YA LAZY FUCKING LOSAAAAHHHHSSS!!!

And get a seat I did.  As I sat down in victory I knew that 32 minutes from now I’d be grabbing my car and heading home to a home cooked meal by my lovely wife.  I could smell the sausage and peppers from here!  I was on the Express Train to happiness … or so I thought …

Nope it wasn’t … Local?  Wait .. but.. but..but… the website said “Express”.

Combining two trains? Why?  What the …


What the fuck, man?  Seriously … like why don’t they tell you this shit before you get on the fucking train?  If ya gonna disappoint me, at least do it when I’m standing in the middle of Penn Station so I can prepare myself.  At least then I can roll my eyes in unison with some fellow strangers.

Then on top of all this I had to pee like a fucking racehorse, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to pee in Penn Station since contracting a disease or getting stared at by some lunatic in the adjacent urinal isn’t high on my priority list nowadays.  I mean, HOW THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT IT WAS GONNA BE A LOCAL?!  For fuck sake, I crushed about two Dasani sparkling flavored waters before I left for work.  I figured, let’s stay hydrated and be alert for when I possible junkie tries to pick pocket me.

So after a bunch of stops and some soul searching, my 32 minute commute turned into 52 minutes.  My bladder was full, but my patience was empty.

I guess the moral of the story is that I’m a rookie and after 2 snow storms and having multiple delays over the past month I haven’t learned a damn thing.  Shame on me and I’m sorry to disappoint you …



Actually .. ya know what, fuck it.  This shit wasn’t my fault at all.  Fuck everybody and fuck NJTRANSIT.  I ain’t taking accountability for shit.  This was straight up signal problems.

Ya see?  NJTRANIST has taught me something after all.  Accountability, just have none.

Follow me on TWITTER: @commutesucks

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