Gia and I are headed to Islip for the wedding of Jeremy and Ellie. We’re going together, but I’m boarding the train at Penn Station and she’s boarding it at Atlantic Avenue. It is our plan to meet when the train hits Atlantic Avenue, which we figure will be the first stop after Penn Station. Somehow, last night on the phone at 1 am, this seemed like it would work. But then my train doesn’t stop at Atlantic Avenue; heads on toward Forest Hills and Kew Gardens.
She texts me: Where are you?
I text her: I think we’re on different trains. Mine goes straight to Babylon.
She texts: Mine goes to Jamaica. I have to transfer to the one to Babylon. Will we meet at Babylon?
I text: Yes.
She texts: Okay.
L: I am hungry. I am wearing a black and white dress.
G: Me, too!
I look out the window, at the strip malls and trees. It will be at least another hour before we hit Babylon. I’m bored. I’m hungry. The train leaves Rockville Center. Next stop: Baldwin. I pick up my phone again. I text Gia.
Now it’s not often I do American travel writing, so pay attention.