My first instinct, the one I didn’t listen to, told me to walk up to Ashmont Station and take the #21 bus to Forest Hills and either take the Orange Line to Stonybrook Station or walk from there to The Brewery where I was doing a presentation.
My second instinct, that other gal who often gets me into gentle messes said, “Nah, you need to make copies. Catch the bus to Field’s Corner Station, then go downtown. Get off a Downtown Crossing and go to Staples and make copies, then hop on the Orange Line.” “After all,” she added, “It’s 8:00. Your presentation starts at 10:00. You’ll have plenty of time.”
So off I went. The train stopped at Savin Hill. The doors opened – passengers on (no passengers are usually getting off there in the a.m.) and then they didn’t close. After sitting there for what seemed like an eternity but was really only 3 minutes, an announcement said that there was a police action at JFK and the train would move momentarily. I waited and waited and then I decided to get off and catch the train back to Ashmont Station and go the way I originally thought to go.
After about 2 minutes of waiting on the opposite side of the platform, it occurred to me that if trains weren’t being let into JFK Station, trains wouldn’t be coming out of there either. (Duh.) So I hauled ass up the stairs and out of the station, as a couple of cops were coming into the station clearly being watchful for someone, and made my way to Dorchester Ave. I planned to take the #18 bus to Ashmont Station and either take the #21 bus to Forest Hills or hop a cab.
Buses weren’t coming out of JFK either. Meanwhile I noted a number of police cars and wagons going down the street and couldn’t find a cab to flag down.
Gypsy cab to the rescue
I called my handy-dandy gypsy cab guy and he got me to The Brewery in twelve minutes by going through a succession of side streets that got us over to Washington Street, over Dimock Street across to Amory Street and the Brewery. Yippee. I love a driver that knows where he’s going.
All of the above was done with pacing and sighs and a bit of consternation that was too wee to be considered anxiety.
I tucked into Ula’s Café to get breakfast while figuring how I was going to make copies when, who should walk in but a friend who has a consulting gig there. I told her my dilemma and she said she’d make the copies for me. “No problem.” It was now 9:40.
Walked to the place my partner and I had contracted with (and paid) to use space for our workshops and, lo and behold, it is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. My partner paced at the outside entry, I paced on the inside entry.
What is up with this day? I thought to myself. This workshop is going to be great or, no one is going to show up for it.
I spied an office across the hall with the lights on and people working. I put a positive thought in my mind, waltzed in, asked if I could speak to the manager or Executive Director, told her my dilemma and asked if I could use their conference room. TShe said, “Yes.” (What a wonderful word yes is!)
All’s well that ends well
The workshop participants arrived. Workshop went well. Rescue angel declined to accept payment. However, the morals to this story are:
- Listen to your first instinct. I should have gone the way I first thought to go or gone out the night before to get copies like I’d planned.
- Know alternatives.
There’s more than one way to skin a cat and get from point A to point B in Boston.
- Carry some cash.
- Have the name of a cab driver or friend with car who will come to your rescue.
- Thank your lucky stars.
After all, the train might have been stopped in a tunnel and there’d have been no way to maneuver or to send a message that I was stuck.
It all worked out. Woo-hoo.
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