On board ... and off ... and on ... and ....

If Monday marked the highlight of life in the city, Wednesday certainly marked the lowest point. It was on this day, of course, that the rails leaving from Penn Station had no power, causing unimaginable confusion and a mass of humanity in mid-town I had not been introduced to before.

For me, it introduced more than just running around the city, cramming myself onto a PATH train, or finding Hoboken. I had the pleasure of meeting (read: being crammed against) some of the most selfish people in the tri-state area.

I got on board the 4:50 Dover Express, and soon after the conductor came on to announce that we were significantly delayed because of an overhead power outage along the lines. After sitting for about 30 minutes, they "recommended" that we take a PATH train to Hoboken and pick up a NJ Transit train from there. I walked back up the stairs and people had overtaken every tile on the floor, staring at monitors that read:
Delayed
Delayed
Delayed
Delayed
Delayed
Delayed

I muscled through, got outside and walked a few blocks to the PATH station and it was much worse. Taking baby steps among hundreds of people trying to cram through two doors, I eventually got downstairs. The station opened up and I was back in time at my first Hanson concert. A train was approaching so I "ran" as best I could down the track; every car was completely full, with people crammed so tight not even one of the Olson twins could have gotten in. I kept walking, knowing that time was running out until it would leave, got to the end and saw the tiniest space I could squeeze in ....

And the woman at the door would not move. She literally and completely did not move as I turned sideways, squeezed my bag close to my stomach and snuck into the car like the weird kid who ate his boogers trying to sneak into prom. I got in, and she said to me, "Sir, I'm going to need to hold onto something." I turned less than a quarter turn and PRESTO she had plenty of room to hold her arm by my head as I fought the urge to lovingly caress it with my cheek.

We stopped at every stop, taunting those waiting to get on, some of whom even walked up and tried a few times to squeeze in. It would have been comical if I hadn't been dripping sweat off my face.

We got to Hoboken and it was like the start of the Boston Marathon - people sprinted up the stairs and to the tracks. I can't be sure, but I think I saw a man shove a pregnant lady down, step on her hand and say, "Watch it, whore." It may not have happened, as this part is still a blur as I tried to keep from being trampled by the Pamplona bulls poking me in the ass.

The rest is boring: I got on the train, we waited about 30 minutes because our crew were themselves trying to get from Penn Station to Hoboken on the PATH. We slowly made our way down the line, and I got home about 7:30. Just your average three-hour commute. After seeing the best human on earth Monday, I got up close and personal with some of the worst Wednesday: those so eager to get home they act like gazelle running from an lion. Survival of the fittest, and the lame are Darwin's prey.