When Things Go Wacky

. . . and they do. Sometimes.

Take, for example, our well-planned mini-break to New Haven. Airbnb. (check) Train reservations. (check) Planned itinerary. (check) Unstructured free time. (check) There was enough structure for the trip to have good bones. There was enough flexibility for the trip to experience some serendipity.

Take, for example, breakfast on Tuesday morning. The Airbnb listing said breakfast was included, provided. It wasn't. But Charlie was on top of things, and notices things, and during our walks around town he noticed a bookshop-café called Atticus. So, when we were packed and heading out, I mentioned I'd been looking at the map of the Yale campus and would like to take a different route than the ones we've been walking. I said that we might see somewhere fun to get breakfast along the way. 

He said, "I've got breakfast covered, Mom." And he did. He's really good at thinking of things that combine different elements with the things we love, and coming up with a great plan. We put his idea together with my route and came up with something new that included some of both. We spent a great morning at the café-bookshop. A leisurely breakfast and time to talk, browse, talk some more. Both our bags were two books heavier when we left.

After lunch at the third pizza place of the trip, we decided to head to the train station a couple of hours early. We figured we might find someplace to sit down, have a cup of something, and wind things down in a leisurely way that left us free from rushing at the end.

HA.

We did sit, for almost four hours, and watched as there was, first, a 20 minute delay with our train, and then a 40 minute delay, an hour, and then it just became a flashing DELAYED on the board. Train after train. There was some kind of obstruction on the track and no other information. We looked into trying to switch our tickets, but everything was sold out. 

Until . . . 

All hell broke loose at the station and Charlie said, "Get your stuff, Mom. We need to run for the train. They're holding it for us." The scene reminded me of one of those metallic shavings and magnet sets, as people started moving like long lines coming together to get through the doors to the track, and then splitting again to get from the passageway to the different platforms.

We came up to an empty platform. The Vermonter had just pulled away. As we went down from the platform, an Amtrack staffer sent us up to another platform. The Acela. It was nearly empty, and going to Washington via Stamford, New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore. 

My stop is Trenton. 

"Don't worry," she said. "Just get on the train. You can figure it out later." 

Long story, short. Charlie stayed on the Acela to Philly. I got off in NYC to catch the Jersey Transit to Trenton. They'd changed the way the parking garage worked, so I walked across an empty lot after dark to get to my entrance only to find it locked, walked back to the station, called the parking authority number and learned there was now only one way in after dark. Walked there, paid for my parking, took the elevator up, got my car, exited and headed home for a quick shower, and fell into bed. 

What about food and eating when things go wacky? Here's the thing. You do what you need to do and eat what's available. For me, it was a chicken salad, spinach, and avocado sandwich on a croissant from the train concession. For Charlie, it was mac and cheese. It was one meal. And, hey, we'd just spent the last day and a half eating pizza, anchovies, and Caesar salad. Laughing just a bit as I think about the final meal of a foodie jaunt being cuisine de Amtrak. 

T

he Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.