A Trip to Darryl

As I entered the ramp to the station, nothing seemed amiss. However, as I neared the top of the stairs to the platform traversing the rails from above--I recognized the train was moving rather swiftly for a car that I thought should be sitting still…waiting for my arrival.

Must not be MY train.

My previously blissful moment at the bar was quickly traded for a more realistic, shock-filled one -- that was indeed MY train to New York, and it was clearly on its way without me. I was instantly catapulted into fear, anger, shame and confusion, “FUCK! NOW WHAT?? SHIT! Shit shit shit shit shit shit!” I swear for the next 5 hours, the complete lexicon of my inner dialogue was underscored by that one word.

“What a complete idiot!! I’m so absent-minded, oblivious, bubble-headed—a DAY DREAMER!” “Why couldn’t I be more like someone else, anyone else, frankly…but NOOO, OOO!” My laptop, bookbag, brand new Columbia 3in1 outer shell coat and – MY LIFE! Was on that TRAIN!

Who do you talk to in that moment? Who helps you at a train station?? Think about it. Do you know the name of the role of the person AT THE TRAIN STATION that you need to talk to? Is it the manager? The Conductor’s Boss? What is he called, The Super-conductor? …is there a Concierge, perhaps??

So, I go to the nearest ticket taker person, looking rather immense as she sits behind the plexi-glass barrier of our two worlds, eyes delighted as she bites into an éclair…

“Excuse me, Ma’am, I think I just missed my train!” I said, (hmm, sounded rather more pathetic than intended). Immense lady gave a slight smile, wiped the white cream from the corner of her mouth, and said – “Well didja or didn’t cha, honey?”

“What?”, I said.

“Well, didja or didn’t ya??” re-situating her large frame to face her computer screen, she said…

“YOU said -- ‘I think’”. I was dumbfounded.

“HA! HA! – just kidding, sorry, I’ll call ahead and let them know to gather your things, where were you seated?”

“Uh…OH! GREAT! You can just call ahead and let them know I’m not there?? That’s great, good! thank you!” I said.

“Yep, simple as that – however between now and the time they get the message, find your seat and gather your things, they could be stolen.”

“Oh? Great.” I said.

“Yeah”, she said, “But, maybe not! Sometimes we hear shit gets stolen other times shit gets left. No tellin’ what the crazies are doing today!”

“Uh-huh” “13-D”, I said, looking at my ticket.

“Mr. Crockett?”

“That’s me”

“Ok sir, just have a seat, the next train to New York will be here in 45 minutes - we’ll just transfer your ticket, and you can get your belongings whenever you get to New York - we’ll have the station there tag it and hold it for you.”

“Ok”, I said… (again with the pathetic).

I turned away, slowly now- there is nothing more to be done. Immensely helpful lady was going on about my stuff being intact, “…anyway…but, I’m sorry you missed your train Mr. Crockett – this stopover was exactly 23 min., just like they said it would be when you arrived.”

I turned back, fighting the obscenities in my thoughts, my eyes perhaps a bit misty - about to lay down on the ground and bang my head. “Yes. Thank you.” I said.

I turned back and began the self-flagellation that is my want to do at such a time as this.

“What is wrong with me? I should have done better.” “Why couldn’t I have set my timer on my phone to alert me?” “Now THERE’s a grand idea! How about next time using your head for more than a hat rack -- DARRYL!” Then Dad’s voice of course, “I am shocked at your cluelessness sometimes Darryl. It’s irresponsible! You’re like the male equivalent of a blonde bubblehead!” “You have GOT to pay attention to the world around you!” “Good LORD! How will you ever survive?”

Poorly dad. I have survived, but poorly. Here I am – single, depressed, in crisis, 51 years old and just as poorly operating in the chaos of my world as I ever have. “I don’t know why old man! I just always have stuff on my mind.” “I am Mitty-ian!” “My world is abstraction, my concrete thinking-ephemeral. I have a whole life goin on in here! -- Planning? -- What even IS that -- What does that look like?”

Well, you’re dead now…so, what do you care.

I walked back out into the fresh air of the mid-day and immediately jogged across the street, back into the bar I had just left - felt like an hour ago. I bought another shot and beer, went back out onto the make-shift patio someone tried to create out the side door of this shitty little bar into a shittier little alley.

“OK.” I thought to myself, “35 min and I will walk back over there and wait for my next train to arrive. I’ll be on my way soon.”

“No big deal – as long as my stuff is still in tact, what’s the worst thing?” “I’m 45min. to an hour later than I thought I would be? Big deal! That’s nothing to kill yourself over!”

Good.

So, I wait, catch my train, make my trip, and arrive in New York.

I find “the guy”, (still have no idea what these people call themselves), and – lo and behold! My bookbag, my laptop, and my brand-new Columbia 3in1 shell, along with my suitcase, all tagged in beautiful, bright yellow fluorescent tags with “CROCKETT” in bold black marker. I could hear the Hallelujah chorus as I shook “the guy’s” hand and collected my belongings. I began to walk away and as I crossed the threshold of the dingy little office, into the wide-open space and cathedral ceiling of Grand Central – I felt a surprise wave of jubilation and expectation for the day! Life is GOOD! My faith in humanity is restored! No one stole my stuff!! How lucky am I?? I swear I must be one of the luckiest people I know!! What a blessing to be me – a middle-aged, daydreaming, flawed, but happy and charming white dude – with nothing but blue skies and rainbows as far as the eye can see!

I saw a bench conveniently placed on my path and I sat down and began to inventory my stuff. I thought I should check my bookbag for the $300.00 in cash I had hidden in a notebook. I saw the notebook, snatched it out of the bag and opened it up to find…nothing. “SHIT!!” I thought, “I know I put it in here, I specifically put it in this notebook because I knew it would be safe there! SOMEONE STOLE THE CASH! SHIT!! Yes, I had my laptop and my Columbia 3in1 shell – but FUCK! SHIT! - Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit! I am soooooo stupid!!! How could I be so ignorant?! I should have kept it on me! That’s what a SMART person would do - DARRYL!!”

UGH.

I lean back, resting my head on the cold hard marble tile wall. I wince with sharp pains of insecurity and defeat as I find myself staring up into the beautiful cathedral ceiling for an hour. ‘ish.

Dad’s voice, “enjoy your trip, Darryl.”

“Thanks Dad.” (sigh. always with the pathetic).