If You Didn’t Freeze Your Ass Off On NJTRANSIT This Morning Did You Even Commute?

My feet are still cold.

At 8:18AM this morning I boarded a train destined for Penn Station in hopes of making it to work on time.  That did not happen.  To add insult, the train that my wife and I boarded didn’t have heat.  It was about 5 minutes into the ride where I looked at my wife mid-Amazon shopping spree and asked “Are you cold?”.

She replied, “Yea, there’s definitely no heat.”

My wife is always right (except when she’s wrong), so I knew right then and there that the worst was yet to come.

It was in this moment I went into full blown husband mode.  My wife was indeed cold and her hands were on the verge of frostbite.  We may as well have been on top of Everest.  I felt so bad as she tried to swipe Instagram photos while wearing gloves.  As a husband, it was heartbreaking to watch.  Quite a sad sight to see.  So as the defender of my family and man of the house, I did what any man does in this situation when his family is compromised.  I complained on Twitter.  I TAGGED THE SHIT OUT OF NJTRANSIT and let them know what’s up.

… and they replied.

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Castaway, what a fucking great movie.  More on that later.

Although help was “on the way”, my commute had no choice but to continue.  It was at each stop that the cold continued to get worse and worse as the doors parted open and gusts of wind swooped their way through the corridor, decreasing the temperature degree by degree  by degree.  As the conductor went up and down to collect tickets and check phone apps, I noticed that every person in my cart still had their winter hats on, which is rare considering usually at this point we’re all over-heated and sweating enough that we have to apply emergency deodorant when we get to our desks for 8-10 hours of excel spreadsheets and conference calls.

Then we started to crawl.  The train’s speed got slower and slower as finally we reached the first main stop of Newark Penn.  It was just as the train came to a stop that the conductor informed us that our luxury ride of $300+ a month was officially delayed.  At this point my illustrious wife exited the train and bid me farewell as she continued on her journey to work.  Much to my misfortune, she sprinted out of this frozen tundra so fast that I didn’t even get a goodbye kiss.  Not even a peck on the cheek.  She wanted no part, so I did all I could do, which was use my predicament to my advantage and write her a love note to remember me by …

Without my wife, the temperature started to rapidly drop.  I became desperate.  Normally the perfect commute is an alone one, with no fellow commuter to share personal space with.  However, my face and my feet were fucking freezing.  You see, I’ve been working out and seeing a nutritionist, so I suspect my decreased body fat % working against me.  At the next stop, I started to selfishly root for the next slew of passengers to be those of which enjoy carbs.  I needed that high body fat % if my situation was going to improve, so if you’re one of those peeps trying to make the Crossfit Games, get the fuck out of my face.  I need insulation, not burpees for time.

There came a point shortly after this that I started to day dream.  I thought about warm summers in places like San Diego.  A place with perfect weather year round.  A place where I could ride one of those millennial-ish Bird scooters to work like an asshole.  Would I look ridiculous being a 34 year old man on a scooter heading into work?  Absolutely, but at least I’d be dry, warm and above all, super woke and edgy.

As I came to, and realized that I still lived in New Jersey, it turned out that during this day dream that I hadn’t moved a fucking inch.  We were at a stand still, with yet again the same excuse of a disabled train ahead.  I decided to leave my last impression on the world.   I decided, like before, to Castaway it …

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I didn’t have sand, but I had a window …

H.E.L.P.

It’s all I could think of in that moment.  Another day late, another day frozen with a walk through Penn Station on deck to the 2-3 train as my reward.  Maybe I’d get lucky and get pick-pocketed, who knows.  After all, it was my lucky day.  A day in which I wore really thin socks with palm trees on them.  Karma.

Fast forward to my walk to work, I ended up buying a woman’s hat from CVS and extra socks to change into at work.  A truly depressing scene.  Needless to say, I can’t wait for the commute home.  Just look at this fuckin’ hat.

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Helluva jaw line though.  I know.

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