It Rains Less Ordinary

My dear folks,

Yesterday was a truly special day. After torrential rain on Saturday, it was time for me to pack my bags and head for heartland, rain or shine (or lack thereof). So I did and it was a cheerful Tom Sawyer who stepped out of the apartment, bag and baggage in tow. That is to say, with a spring in my step, a  song on my lips and alacrity in my heart. Well, at least that's how Mark Twain would've put it, I'm sure.

There are no Rutgers buses until after 10 a.m. during spring break. No worries, me thinks. I will walk to the train station. It ain't that far. So I started out, and scarcely had I reached the end of the block, I see the looming and completely drowned Johnson Park ahead of me. The geese were SWIMMING in it, ladies and gentlemen. Oh well, I must've underestimated the rain. 

It might've been a better idea to turn around because a few yards further, the road was submerged too, apparently a spillover from the park. Little cars were finding it tough to make it through the gap, and I was in no mood to wade across. Wet clothes = a cold me. I decide to wait for the next car. I'll just ask them to get me over this gap and drop me off on the other side a few feet away where it was dry. I hail an approaching pick-up truck, driven by a really kind Portuguese man, as I was to find out shortly. 

The man agreed to drop me of the other side of the water "gap", shall I call it? I climb into his car, bag and baggage included, a little scared because I've never really just climbed into a stranger's car. Oh well, necessity calls for desperate measures. As soon as we're about to drive forward, the man's pal materializes from thin air on the other side of the road. "Ya don't know how deep it is in the middle. Turnaround and go the other way." Uh oh. Should I get off?

Turns out that the man had to pick up some girls from the station who had been hired to clean their office. So he was going my way, thankfully and agreed to take me all the way to my destination. I've also never really hitchhiked before, and I just hoped that this man was nice and had good intentions, and nodded along. If it was any other way, I was going to open the door of the moving car and jump out. Well, obviously not. I had no plan B. I kept reminding myself that this is not India, and I am relatively safe riding in a stranger's car. 

Indeed, he was a very kind man. We started talking and I found that he's an immigrant from Portugal, he'd moved when he was 18 and had spent the past 37 years in the U.S. Arrived with a meager borrowed sum and runs a $35 million business today. Works in construction; as a son. He works hard and minds his own business. He didn't mind driving me through quite roundabout routes because RT 27 and 18 were flooded and closed at various points, causing us to be stuck in traffic. I neglected to ask his name but as I got off his car, I think for the first time in my life I said "God bless you" to someone, truly grateful to my stars. I hoped karma was watching for the sake of this man. 

The rest of the story is rather mundane, but I'll finish for the sake of finishing. The reached the station but it was closed due to a power outage along with all the ticket machines, so I boarded the 30 minute late train without a ticket, and got to the connecting station. Got on the wrong train in the direction I had just come from, got off at the first stop, took the train (which was also 20 min late) back to the connecting station and boarded the right train, and finally arrived in the City of Brotherly Love, into the arms of a pretzel and familiarity.

O what a day!

P.S. Language Rooms at the Wilma Theatre is worth checking out. 

Over and out!