notes from a man who spends too much time playing video games
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This is where you stick random tidbits of information about yourself.
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A Few Points Shy of the High Score
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Sunday, October 10, 2004
Went over to Chi's last night to watch the rebroadcast of Trinidad v. Mayorga. For some reason HBO wasn't (re)airing the fight until 11 p.m. (which is pretty late for me, even on a Saturday). Once the fight was over, I found myself out in the nether regions of Queens in the wee, small hours of the morning.
Chi, bless his heart, offered me his couch for the night, but I decided to take my chances with the F train.
Descending the stairs into the empty station at Union Turnpike, I was met with a sudden gust of wind. Candy wrappers were tumbleweeding around me.
A train was coming. Possibly my train.
I whipped out my Metrocard and barrelled through the turnstiles. Having only been in that particular station a few times before, I took a couple of extra seconds to get my bearings, to figure out which side the Brooklyn-bound trains were on.
That moment of hesitation cost me. Dearly.
An F train--my F train--was sitting in the station, doors standing wide open, as if waiting for me. My first thought was, *There it is!* My second thought was, *If you miss this train at this hour, you're going to be here for awhile.*
I hustled my way down the steps, taking two at a time (not easy for me to do, considering my bad knees), practically throwing myself towards the waiting train. The audible doors-closing signal rang out--bing-bong. The doors clamped shut. The train began to move.
I stood there staring at the tailend of the receding train, trying to somehow will myself on board. Once it was gone, I spent the next 10 minutes staring into the blackness of the tunnel, trying to understand how I could have missed it, backtracking over my journey to the train, cursing myself out for not walking more quickly.
I seem to be going through a phase these days where I'm just missing all my trains by seconds. Seems like it's just happening far more often than it should.
I bought a copy of the previous day's Post from the newsstand. There were some toughs in the station talking loud, making me nervous. I buried myself in the paper, praying for another train. About 15 minutes later, an F train pulled into the station, and I rode home this morning, across three boroughs, reading yesterday's news.
1:01 PM
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