Change at Jamaica

The only thing constant in life is change.

However, when we are thrown the inevitable proverbial curve ball, the universe always provides us with whatever additional info we may need to switch gears.  The trick is to be looking for the solution rather than wallowing in the problem.

It seemed peculiar to see this woman in the library parking lot peering into a car window.  Turns out she had locked her keys (along with her two-year old granddaughter) in the car.  The woman was beside herself.  I went over and asked if she had called AAA or needed a ride but she completely ignored me because she was too busy solving the problem by pleading with the two-year old to unbuckle her own car seat and ‘unlock the door for Grandma’.

My son and I went to a Mets game last week.  I absolutely loathe sitting in the post-game traffic (well, any traffic but especially that kind), so we take the train.  It can be a little tricky getting home because, if you don’t time the subway right, you have to wait an hour for the next LIRR train.

It rained lightly during most of the game, I had been battling a migraine all day and, despite the high hopes my son had for Bartolo Colon, the Mets were stinking up the joint against the Nats so we bailed before the game was over.  Rather than waiting 45 minutes for the next train that went to the station where my car was, we chose to take a different line.  Here’s the thing, though:  it required us to … gasp … transfer at Jamaica.  [Side rant: I have never shared the disdain of the Jamaica station that many Long Islanders have.  Sure the train ride is a little longer but the connection is rarely more than 10 minutes and generally right across the platform.  It’s nothing like the airport when you have to hurdle over seats to make a connecting flight to LAX and your luggage ends up in Moscow.]

We are standing on the train waiting to pull out of the station with about five others in the small space by the doors when a gregarious group of guys (who were also at the game) invade our space.  No biggie.  All is temporary.  But then they see on the display that the train is going to Babylon and wonder out loud if they are on the wrong train.  Someone says, “This train doesn’t go to Ronkonkoma but you can transfer …” but they don’t hear anything past the word “go”.  Their mass of bodies exited the train as quickly as they had swarmed in.  Then they stood just outside the still open train doors on the platform, oblivious to our collective voices trying to tell them they were on the right train.  Eventually they wandered aimlessly down the platform.

All the information they needed was there but they chose not to listen.  No doubt they made it home but they likely waited a long time for another train on that line – an awfully high price to pay for getting wrapped up in the drama rather than looking, or listening, for a solution that was right in front of them.

Personally, I used to be so intent on finding a parking space that I would speed past an open spot before I saw it, forced to leave it for the person right behind me.  =]

Do share your own experiences.

Discontent is NOT a given.

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2 Responses to “Change at Jamaica

  • Lorrie Bertolino
    4 years ago

    Hi Deb,
    Just came across this site. I think of you often. You taught me so much on the mat. Miss you and your classes.
    -Lorrie B.
    PS: beautiful website!

    • Hi Lorrie! Miss you too. Hope your press handstand is coming along. <3 Deb