I Hate the Trains

What the heck has been up with the trains? Today is my one-month anniversary at Working Mother (and if you've been reading for the past couple of years, you know that's a reason to celebrate) and I swear to you, I have not had ONE DAY where the commute to work has been aggravation-free. This morning, I dropped the kids off at school and was at the train station by 8:10 - a personal best, if I may say so myself.

No train. Okay, one'll be along shortly.

Five minutes. No train. I'm reading my book, trying to unlock my jaw. Okay, so I'll get there just in time, today. Maybe I'll get my coffee after I get to my desk.

Ten minutes. A crowd is forming. Some woman asks me, "Are there delays?" I restrain my irritable, pre-2nd cup of coffee-response and say, "I don't know." I debate taking the local on the other side and catching an express at Forest Hills. Then I decide against it, remembering that strategy has bitten me on the backside every single time.

Roughly about 20 minutes later, a V pulls in. It is so packed that I can't even look at my cell phone clock to see what time it actually is. Luckily, my book's already out because otherwise I'd be forced to spend the commute reading the same old ads on the train. Grr.

The train crawls into NYC, and I get out of the train at 9:12. Yay for freaking me. I decide to get McDonald's for breakfast and soothe my raging temper.

This has got to get better - it's been a damned month, already. What should be at most a 40-minute commute takes over an hour. WTF?