To lighten the mood, here's a parable: We were playing host to Jeannie's nephew again this past week, culminating in a trip to Manhattan on Saturday to ostensibly check out some colleges. We went up to the NYU area first, checking first to see if there were any 7-Elevens around the campus. Jeannie and her sister were big on Slurpees and kept talking about how much they wanted one, so we looked online but there weren't any in the vicinity. We went up to Washington Square Park and watched some chess hustlers, as well as a contortionist who spent so much time leading up to his stunts he lost half his audience. We went uptown and stopped off to wander through Central Park, and get tickets for the movies (yes again). Seeing as how we had limited time before the film, we stuck around the theater, first wandering aimlessly at the Mac store, and then camping out at the Barnes & Nobles cafe.
We saw the movie and then set about getting back to Bushwick. Easier said than done, every train we needed was doing something wonky, whether scheduled or not. Though it had cooled nicely outside, the subway station was superheated and miserable. We waited and waited. Finally our C train showed up and took a slow route to West 4th. There we moved to the F/M platform to get a train down to Delancey Street to get the J. Again we waited and waited in the stifling heat of the station, realizing after a while that the M train didn't run to Manhattan on weekends. Still, the F would get us where we were going. It finally showed up and brought much-needed air conditioning. It stopped next at Spring Street.
The F isn't supposed to stop there. We quickly realized the F was traveling on the A line, which takes us nowhere near Delancey. If this had been a weekday we could have taken it to Fulton to transfer to the J. But on weekends the J only goes to Chambers Street. We tried to figure out some other connection but by then we had lost all faith in the transit system. We decided to exit at Chambers Street on the A line and walk across to the J Chambers station (though on the same street, they are on opposite side of the neighborhood, one far west, the other next to the Brooklyn Bridge.
We exited the station and came up to the street. And what should await us above, one of the few lighted storefronts on the block? Why, a 7-Eleven, resplendent in its fluorescent glow. Slurpees were acquired and we made the not-too-bad walk over to the right station. The J train showed up with due haste and spirited us home. So sometimes things work out, even after you've long since given up.