Homeward Bound

Getting out of New York City is never easy.

But attempting to leave on Christmas Eve Eve turned out to be quite a challenge.

Late Monday afternoon, Ben discovered that the taxi fare to LaGuardia was not a flat rate of $53 as it is for JFK.

He pulled up a traffic map on his phone and grimaced, "Look at all of the red on the highways...it's going to cost you a fortune taking a cab to LaGuardia. How do you feel about taking a city bus?"

I did not feel good about that.

But it appeared I had little choice.

After a very crowded and stressful subway ride (I accidentally hit someone in the shin with my heavy luggage and felt horrible about it), Ben dropped me off at a sad street corner in some unknown part of town.

The rain was coming down in sheets.

I had never felt so alone and cold and anxious.

Twenty minutes later, the M60 pulled up. I dragged my giant luggage up to the driver and tried handing him $3.00.

"I need a fare card. I can't accept cash," he practically growled.

My stomach dropped, and I felt tears well up in my eyes as I squeaked, "Oh. But where do I do that?"

"Subway."

And with that, I got off the bus and did the only thing that seemed appropriate.

Openly sobbed.

I figured I deserved such an indulgence and if anyone asked if I was okay (no one did), I would fib and say something much more traumatic had occurred than being turned away from the M60.

After loading my fare card, I went back to the bus stop and once again waited another 20 minutes in the rain for the next bus.

When this one pulled up, there was a much bigger crowd waiting.

I was pushed and jostled to the very back of the line.

By the time my turn arrived, the bus was full.

The. Bus. Was. Full.

As the doors closed in my sad, Midwestern face, I thought awful and terrible things about New York City. I'll just admit it- I had never before hated a city so much than that very moment.

"Heading home for the holidays?" A kind, middle-aged woman asked me, probably seeing that I was on the verge of (more) tears.

"I'm trying to get home to Cincinnati," I mewed.

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"Oh! Cincinnati! What a fantastic city," she smiled encouragingly. "I visited there once! The highlight of my trip was your chili."

That woman talked to me until the next bus arrived.

I wish I could have told her how grateful I was to her. She kept me from more sobbing and gave me the positive energy I desperately needed.

On the bus, I put my luggage up on a rack.

I poked my head around the corner to check on it a few minutes into the ride.

"Don't worry, honey," a woman across the aisle said. "I've been keeping an eye on it the entire time! I'll watch it until we get to the airport."

I ended up talking to this second incredibly kind woman and her daughter (who ended up being my birthday twin!) the entire way to the airport.

I honestly believe God sent me those women in a time when I really, really needed them.

By the time I got to LaGuardia, I was telling the woman and her daughter about my bus fiasco and actually laughing about the whole thing.

Because it really was quite dramatic and hilarious in hindsight.

My journey home further improved with my flight actually leaving on time, and when that airplane touched down on Ohio soil just a few minutes before midnight, I had never felt so happy to be home.