NJ Transit
I sigh and my bag lands with a thunk on the tiled floor of Newark Liberty International Airport. I continue to walk, dragging my bag behind me as it makes a soft ssshhhhhh sound. Why I thought walking around with a 20kg duffel would be okay is beyond me but there I was - and, I still had an hour of training before my destination; Ramsey, New Jersey.
When my answer to "What are you doing over Christmas?" was, "Going to New Jersey", I was met with the surprisingly form response of, "What!? Why New Jersey???".
My best friends family, The Feldermans, live in New Jersey. Ever since I'd moved to NZ and become best friend with my best friend I had spent every Christmas eve with her and her family who flew over every year from NJ to NZ for Christmas. For whatever reason however this year (2018) the Feldermans weren't going to make it to NZ - and I was of course in Canada - so I wasn't going to make it to NZ either thus is was decided that my best friend and her family would come to America for Christmas and New Year and I was going to join them as `1). It was so close to Canada that I would've been dumb to pass up the opportunity, 2). I'd spent every Christmas eve with them for 13 years and I didn't see why moving to Canada should stop that and 3). I was getting to spend my first Christmas away from home with family (regardless of their lack of blood relation).
So there I was, standing at the information kiosk inquiring about how to purchase my train ticket and get from the Airport to Ramsey. The girl informed me to go through the archway to her left and I'd find a ticket booth - the guy at the ticket booth would give me a hand - and then I'd go up two floors, catch the train and get off at the 4th stop, transfer to the NJ Transit line, then get of at Secaucus Station and take either the Bergen or Main Line trains to Ramsey Station. This lined up with what my best friend had messaged me earlier and the guy at the ticket booth said roughly the same thing, so with my bag dragging behind me I made my way into the elevator, stepped into the Amtrak train and waved goodbye to Newark International. The station I got off at to transfer to the NJ Transit train was madness. It was a small space cramped with so much people - and because everyone was either coming or going to the airport, everyones' luggage was taking up the left over available space. Just in through the doors the human traffic ground to a halt as everyone stopped to either consult the board about their train or buy tickets. There was an elderly African-American gentleman who was dressed in what looked like a train conductors uniform shouting out train times and platforms. I said "train to Secaucus?", "Track A, 5mins" was his reply. I nodded a thanks and made my way down the stairs to the platform below.
It was a cool 7° in New Jersey so I was thankful to snowy Calgary for making me leave the house wearing sweat pants, a hoodie and my denim jacket; carrying my scarf and coat just for good measure. A few minutes later I was bustled onto the NJ transit train headed for Secaucus.
The platform I exited looked very much like the previous one I'd just left. Dull grey concrete on the walls and platform floor, browning from years of weathering. Giant grey-brown pebbles surrounding the train tracks that faced the brick or concrete backs of industrial buildings. No trees or plants to be seen, only grey - save the sky that was thankfully a beautiful cerulean afternoon blue. I wandered up the escalator into the heart of Secaucus station. Inside everything was a light yellow-beige colour - a massive yellow advertisement for The Lion King on broadway adorned most of the high ceiling space, massive boards above exit and entry ways holding information on train times and stations covered the rest of the hexagonal shaped room. In the center sat a metal and glass structure of what looked like a tree, with some reeds sprouting and at the base the outline of a snake circling the tree - a nod to Snake Hill, an igneous rock that can be found in the south end of Seacaucus. Low afternoon light came through the massive bay windows that circled the upper half of the walls and above the sculpure a glass pyramid. I spotted the information office and made my way there, my bag still dragging behind me on the tiled floors. I was exhausted and I still had another half an hour of my journey left before I could quit lugging my extra 20kgs around with me and just relax. The elderly gentleman behind the counter advised me to take the Main Line to Suffern which would be leaving Track E platform at 4.33pm. I thanked him and made my way down towards the platfrom. I messaged my bestfriend to let her know I'd made it to my last leg of the journey and sighed as I looked at the time; it was only 2pm. I had a long wait ahead of me.
It honestly amazes me how fast time goes the older we get. I remember back in the day playing at a friends house down the road and my parents would call for dinner and we would BEG for an extra 15 minutes which honestly felt like it went on for hours. That 2 hours somehow went by so quickly, I blinked and it was 4pm - and I couldn't even thank social media as I wasn't connected to the internet or data. I'd plugged my headphones in to drown out the sound of the platform and shifted my gaze between the green reflective "NJ Turnpike" sign across from me, the tv screen above that informed passangers about trains, tracks and times and the ebb and flow of people coming and going off trains and through platfrom doors. Before too long the TV screen was telling me my train to Suffern was arriving in 5 minutes. The train pulled to a stop at the platform and a conductor go out yelling "Main Line to Suffern". I double checked with him to make sure this was the train to Ramsey which he confirmed it was and I was bustled on with the rest of the passengers. The train was packed. All the seats were taken - and I had luggage. So I took up residence in the gangway between two carriages and settled in for the ride. The sun was setting, I watched all of New Jersey fly by the window in the train door, silhouetted by the setting sun, casting a firey orange glow on everything it touched. The sky fading from bright orange, to light peach, to the lightest sky blue, a smattering of whispy clouds on the horizon, tinged with light pink edges.
By the time I made it to Ramsey station it was pitch black, I climbed down the stairs of the train and wandered along the pathway to where I hoped my best friend waited in a car. Before too long I was enveloped in a hug and a chorus of 'Hi's' and 'Hey's' began as my best friend and I swayed back and forth. We'd seen each other 8 weeks prior when I was on holiday in NZ but you could've sworn it'd been longer. We finally let go of each other so I could say hi to my other best friend - her partner, who graciously took my 20kg bag to the car. I hopped in the front seat to an excited "HI TRACE!" (her uncle and the family had called me Tracey since the story of My Mom's Uncle calling me Tracey in a Christmas card) and headed towards home for the next 3 weeks.
When my answer to "What are you doing over Christmas?" was, "Going to New Jersey", I was met with the surprisingly form response of, "What!? Why New Jersey???".
My best friends family, The Feldermans, live in New Jersey. Ever since I'd moved to NZ and become best friend with my best friend I had spent every Christmas eve with her and her family who flew over every year from NJ to NZ for Christmas. For whatever reason however this year (2018) the Feldermans weren't going to make it to NZ - and I was of course in Canada - so I wasn't going to make it to NZ either thus is was decided that my best friend and her family would come to America for Christmas and New Year and I was going to join them as `1). It was so close to Canada that I would've been dumb to pass up the opportunity, 2). I'd spent every Christmas eve with them for 13 years and I didn't see why moving to Canada should stop that and 3). I was getting to spend my first Christmas away from home with family (regardless of their lack of blood relation).
So there I was, standing at the information kiosk inquiring about how to purchase my train ticket and get from the Airport to Ramsey. The girl informed me to go through the archway to her left and I'd find a ticket booth - the guy at the ticket booth would give me a hand - and then I'd go up two floors, catch the train and get off at the 4th stop, transfer to the NJ Transit line, then get of at Secaucus Station and take either the Bergen or Main Line trains to Ramsey Station. This lined up with what my best friend had messaged me earlier and the guy at the ticket booth said roughly the same thing, so with my bag dragging behind me I made my way into the elevator, stepped into the Amtrak train and waved goodbye to Newark International. The station I got off at to transfer to the NJ Transit train was madness. It was a small space cramped with so much people - and because everyone was either coming or going to the airport, everyones' luggage was taking up the left over available space. Just in through the doors the human traffic ground to a halt as everyone stopped to either consult the board about their train or buy tickets. There was an elderly African-American gentleman who was dressed in what looked like a train conductors uniform shouting out train times and platforms. I said "train to Secaucus?", "Track A, 5mins" was his reply. I nodded a thanks and made my way down the stairs to the platform below.
It was a cool 7° in New Jersey so I was thankful to snowy Calgary for making me leave the house wearing sweat pants, a hoodie and my denim jacket; carrying my scarf and coat just for good measure. A few minutes later I was bustled onto the NJ transit train headed for Secaucus.
The platform I exited looked very much like the previous one I'd just left. Dull grey concrete on the walls and platform floor, browning from years of weathering. Giant grey-brown pebbles surrounding the train tracks that faced the brick or concrete backs of industrial buildings. No trees or plants to be seen, only grey - save the sky that was thankfully a beautiful cerulean afternoon blue. I wandered up the escalator into the heart of Secaucus station. Inside everything was a light yellow-beige colour - a massive yellow advertisement for The Lion King on broadway adorned most of the high ceiling space, massive boards above exit and entry ways holding information on train times and stations covered the rest of the hexagonal shaped room. In the center sat a metal and glass structure of what looked like a tree, with some reeds sprouting and at the base the outline of a snake circling the tree - a nod to Snake Hill, an igneous rock that can be found in the south end of Seacaucus. Low afternoon light came through the massive bay windows that circled the upper half of the walls and above the sculpure a glass pyramid. I spotted the information office and made my way there, my bag still dragging behind me on the tiled floors. I was exhausted and I still had another half an hour of my journey left before I could quit lugging my extra 20kgs around with me and just relax. The elderly gentleman behind the counter advised me to take the Main Line to Suffern which would be leaving Track E platform at 4.33pm. I thanked him and made my way down towards the platfrom. I messaged my bestfriend to let her know I'd made it to my last leg of the journey and sighed as I looked at the time; it was only 2pm. I had a long wait ahead of me.
It honestly amazes me how fast time goes the older we get. I remember back in the day playing at a friends house down the road and my parents would call for dinner and we would BEG for an extra 15 minutes which honestly felt like it went on for hours. That 2 hours somehow went by so quickly, I blinked and it was 4pm - and I couldn't even thank social media as I wasn't connected to the internet or data. I'd plugged my headphones in to drown out the sound of the platform and shifted my gaze between the green reflective "NJ Turnpike" sign across from me, the tv screen above that informed passangers about trains, tracks and times and the ebb and flow of people coming and going off trains and through platfrom doors. Before too long the TV screen was telling me my train to Suffern was arriving in 5 minutes. The train pulled to a stop at the platform and a conductor go out yelling "Main Line to Suffern". I double checked with him to make sure this was the train to Ramsey which he confirmed it was and I was bustled on with the rest of the passengers. The train was packed. All the seats were taken - and I had luggage. So I took up residence in the gangway between two carriages and settled in for the ride. The sun was setting, I watched all of New Jersey fly by the window in the train door, silhouetted by the setting sun, casting a firey orange glow on everything it touched. The sky fading from bright orange, to light peach, to the lightest sky blue, a smattering of whispy clouds on the horizon, tinged with light pink edges.By the time I made it to Ramsey station it was pitch black, I climbed down the stairs of the train and wandered along the pathway to where I hoped my best friend waited in a car. Before too long I was enveloped in a hug and a chorus of 'Hi's' and 'Hey's' began as my best friend and I swayed back and forth. We'd seen each other 8 weeks prior when I was on holiday in NZ but you could've sworn it'd been longer. We finally let go of each other so I could say hi to my other best friend - her partner, who graciously took my 20kg bag to the car. I hopped in the front seat to an excited "HI TRACE!" (her uncle and the family had called me Tracey since the story of My Mom's Uncle calling me Tracey in a Christmas card) and headed towards home for the next 3 weeks.
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