So, Sunday night, I did the 'ole tossing and turning thing. I'm not exactly sure why - I never am. It's always the nights I think I'm gonna sleep like a log that I wind up Wide Awake Wilson.
Despite getting a grand total of about three hours' rest, when the alarm went off at 5 a.m., I groaned my body out of bed and put on my sneakers. I'd wanted to go for a long walk along by beautiful back shore the night before but hadn't gotten around to it. So, I decided I'd do the 5-miles as my morning jog. And you know me, once I set my mind to something...
Of course, as the day wore on, my eyes got heavier and heavier, my brain foggier and foggier. By quittin' time, I felt like I had cotton between my ears. But, alas, I had my iPod on hand - with lots of uplifting and bouncy tunes, so I knew I'd survive the trip home.
I made it onto the subway, off the subway, into the train station. I grabbed a bottle of water, located the track my train was on and boarded the train. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, closed my eyes and let Krishha Das lull me to sleep. Almost to sleep anyway.
About 30 minutes into the trip, I thought I heard the conductor say, "Next stop, Wyoming." Wyoming? Wow, I must be having a CRAZY dream. I'm not in Wyoming.
But I was.
You see, Wyoming is a stop on the Haverhill line. The HAVERHILL train line. Which heads WEST. Not North, which is where the GLOUCESTER line heads. Look at a map. Put your finger on Boston. Now draw a really wide V. That's the distance between where I got off the train and where my car/home was.
Well, it cost me $120 for the taxi. And it took me an extra 45 minutes. But I got home safe and sound. And by nine o'clock, I was passed out cold in my very own bed.
Tonight, I asked not one, but TWO, train attendants if the train was the Rockport/Gloucester line. And then I asked the woman sitting next to me. She probably thought I was crazy. I really don't care.