In the middle of hurricane Irene my power went out—as it did with many people here in town. And as Snookie from the Jersey Shore has been quoted as saying it sucks living like a 1920’s pilgrim. But even though I knew I had no electricity, my brain kept forgetting. And instinctively even when I had a lantern in my hand, I would go into a room and try to put the light on. And when the light wouldn’t come on I would think oh yeah—--no power—that was stupid. Sometimes when I enter information into my brain and hit the save button, it somehow is rerouted to the recycling bin.
Briana started a new job. The building is at the Atlantic terminal in Brooklyn. This is a rather convenient location to Garden City. She may take either the Garden City or Mineola train line to get there. For the most part, Mineola station is our family launch pad. We prefer leaving from there because the trains run more frequently and the parking is easier. When Sam commuted to the city before she moved to Manhattan she only took the Mineola line. It is where I drove her every morning and picked her up every evening.
Briana though takes the morning train from Garden City and on occasion takes the return train home to Mineola. That is too much for my brain to handle. I am programed to drive to Mineola. Mineola station is in auto drive. Three of the four days this week when I picked her up I drove ¾ of the way to Mineola before I remembered that I was supposed to drive to the Garden City station. And the only reason that on that one day I didn’t make a mistake was because that day she actually came home on the Mineola train.
Yesterday I was on the phone with my girlfriend Elissa when Briana beeped in to tell me she had left. She said pick up like you did yesterday. And because I just wanted to get back on the phone with Elissa, I said okay and rushed Briana off.
So the first problem after I hung up with Elissa was I got distracted at the computer editing some of my writing. Then I noticed that time had escaped me-- I should have left 5 minutes ago to get Briana. But she is a big girl so if I am a little late it is no worry. And the entire time I was in the car I kept repeating Garden City Garden City Garden City out loud in an effort to force my hands and feet to drive in the correct direction. And I succeeded. I arrived at the Garden City Station just as the train was pulling up. And I watched all the people get off of the train-- and then the train left-- but still no Briana. And very soon I was the only person waiting.
And I became concerned. Where was she? Had she fallen asleep on the train? (She has done that before.) So I called her on her cell phone several times but she didn’t pick up. And then I started to wonder—am I at the right train station? What did she say again on the phone? She said pick me up like you did yesterday. But where was I yesterday? Was I in Garden City or Mineola? And I thought it was Garden City but maybe it was Mineola. So I sat in the car intermittently obsessively compulsively calling her while trying to decide whether I should drive to Mineola or stay put. And I was in this disoriented frenzy for about a good 10 or 15 minutes before another train pulled up and I saw Briana get off with her IPOD earphones into her ears. The trains were running late.
A golf pro once told me that the most difficult athletic transition was from baseball to golf. Baseball players could not stop themselves from taking too big of a back swing and instinctively they wanted to step into the golf stroke. The muscle memory of baseball was very difficult to overcome. Even when the baseball player concentrated not to take a big backswing and to keep their feet still they keep repeating the motion anyway---it was involuntary—like a breath or heartbeat.
I think that is my problem with driving to Mineola. It is involuntary. Even when I concentrate I sometimes have little power to override the well-worn path. And that is what I will excuse myself with in order not to feel badly about my stupidity. But then again, if I want to feel better about myself I can just watch Jersey Shore---comparing myself to Snookie always makes me feel better about myself--at least I know that the pilgrims were around hundreds of years before the 1920’s. And that’s a consolation for sure.
No comments:
Post a Comment