make more mistakes

a chronicle on celebrating friends and taking mishaps in stride

Last weekend put my sanity through new trials. I managed to miss critical commutes three days in a row, leading me to scramble back and forth between state and borough lines and arrive anywhere from 30 minutes to nearly 1.5 hours late. The worst was that each time was almost entirely within my control; I had realized my mistake just a minute too late, sprinted to the threshold of my goal, only to find myself trapped on the wrong end, watching my target slip away in slow motion, just out of reach from my outstretched arms as I begged each helpless, glassy-eyed conductor to open their iron doors for me.

Like most fallible humans, I am not new to getting off at the wrong station in the city, traveling in the wrong direction on the subway, or even missing a flight. However, these have generally been either out of my control or of minimal consequence to other people, as I tend to be meticulously punctual. Both unplanned earliness and tardiness pain me, and I sometimes go as far as to time my lateness in par with an estimate of my counterpart’s lateness. But this weekend taught me that my desire to be perfectly on time is not just about a desire to respect others’ times, or even about wanting control over my circumstances; it is also about the anxiety of inconveniencing others.

day 1: the missed ferry stop, birthday flowers, and dinner

Spring brings with it the promise of warmth, longer days, and a series of birthdays. The weekend started in Williamsburg with a wholesome Friday night dinner and bar birthday celebration with friends from a non-mutually exclusive mix of contexts — coworkers, college friends, friends of friends, local friends, out-of-town friends.

Our 6:30 PM dinner consisted of a subset of seven, and my commute was going to be an easy ferry ride that took me close to the restaurant and a nearby flower shop, where I was tasked with picking up flowers for both myself and two out-of-town friends who were running late. After receiving their distressed texts about hitting traffic, I contentedly leaned back in my ferry seat to browse gifts for next week’s birthday party, feeling confident in my perfect timing. After the first stop, I glance up to see how far we’re from the one I ‘knew’ I was getting off at, only to realize that the new summer schedule has two ferries running in parallel, each skipping every other stop. In other words, I missed my stop and was now cruising down half of Brooklyn, uncertain about how and when I could transfer back towards the right stop.

Luckily, the two ferries intersected in Dumbo, and the other one just arrived. I was about to get on it when its frizzy white-haired captain shooed me off angrily, his index finger whipping from me to the dock entrance with accusation. I got off and asked the nearest conductor how I could get back up to Williamsburg, and they told me that I would have to continue southwest all the way to the last stop on Wall Street, get off, reboard with a new ticket, and trek half of Brooklyn again. Dumbfounded, I took a deep breath and made my way onboard, keeping my head down in fear of the captain kicking me off again.

I started profusely apologizing to all my friends over text, only to find out that pretty much everyone was going to be royally late, too. So, there was nothing to do but head to the top deck, lean back, and enjoy a great view of the Manhattan Bridge while chuckling to myself.

In the end, everything was fine. I had a scenic commute, got to transfer back without additional payments or issues, picked up flowers, and still ended up being the third to arrive. We all laughed and had a lovely night celebrating our friend.

day 2: the missed Amtrak stop, rescue from the next state, and a second birthday party

The next day, I headed to Providence for an overnight trip. Another warm, sunny day, and I finally felt like summer might be here to stay. Since my train was at 2 PM, I took the morning to go on a bike ride, with a first stop at Radio Bakery to pick up pastries for my next friend’s birthday party, a second stop at a café to knock out work due that day, and a third one to pick up groceries. At home, I whipped up a quick lunch, freshened up, and finished packing my overnight bag with ample time to catch my breath before my train. I did wish I had 15 extra minutes to go on a run, but you can’t ask for everything.

Everything was going perfectly that day, and I had the most productive train ride, with each hour checking off another item on my lengthy to-do list — grad school apps, done. Remaining study-work for the week? Done. Nap? DONE. I even woke up just in time to hear the conductor call out the stop before mine, so I packed up my bag and waited idly for the last twenty minutes, checking texts and social media as we pulled up to my stop.

At 5:47 PM, we’re still moving, even though we were supposed to arrive a few minutes ago. I check the train status on the Amtrak app and see that there are two more minutes until arrival, so I text the friend picking me up for dinner that I’ll be arriving shortly. I continue listening to my music and doing random things on my phone when I suddenly realize we’re stationary. Somehow, it’s 5:51 PM; my friend just texted me that she’s arrived, but the train is quiet, and no one is moving or announcing anything. I swing my backpack across my shoulder and bolt towards the exit, but I find the door bolted shut. Did I miss an announcement about which door to go to? I sprint to the next car, but that’s shut too, and I’m helplessly banging my fist against the window. Panic rising, I turn to the nearest car and ask the general crowd, “Did people get off already? Has anyone seen the conductor?” but everyone just stares back at me blankly, mutely, like in a nightmare where I’m the only one who’s noticing something is going terribly wrong. Now I’m sprinting down the aisle in the opposite direction, desperately hoping to find an open door, or a conductor, or even just the cafe car employee who can get me the hell off this train. Two cars down, doors are locked shut, but I see the familiar arc of the cafe car bar, so I bound that way, shouting, “Can I please be let out? I’m right here, but they’re not opening the doors. Please.” The uninterested café employee is in the middle of a sales transaction, and just as she opens her mouth to say something, the train starts moving. My eyes widen, and I beg her to please ask them to stop the train, but she has her answer — “I can’t do anything now, we’re leaving. You have to get off at the next stop.” I beg her more, but then the customer in front of her butts in, “she can’t do anything, the train is moving,” and I feel my already flushed face heating up with an additional layer of anger as I give him a stink eye, as if it’s any of your business.

Defeated, I go to the nearest door and wait standing. I am devastated; I can’t recall a time when I missed a train stop like this, and now I have to call my friend who’s patiently waiting for me at Providence station with the news that I need to be rescued from the next stop in Massachusetts. I logically knew that nothing about this was a big deal; it’s early on a Saturday evening, the next stop is a reasonable 40 minutes away, and she’s exactly the type of friend who’d have my back. I had even planned some buffer for a long catch-up before making it to another friend’s birthday party afterwards. Still, my heart was racing, and I wanted to cry.

Thankfully, N is another friend I can always count on to reply fast in a crisis, with just the right mix of providing emotional support and talking sense into me. I texted her about crashing out, and she quickly reassured me that it’s fine, that I would’ve done the same for her without complaint. And it’s true — maybe I would’ve teased her a bit, but in the end, a true friend will not only be with you at your best, but also show up for you when life takes a wrong turn.

In the end, my friend rescued me from the next station 40 minutes later, and we had a yummy dinner alongside long conversations. She dropped me off in Providence, where I got to celebrate a second friend’s birthday with three cakes, lots of laughter, and some bonus salsa dancing. All I could think that night was how chaotic a day it had been, and how lucky I am to have such joy and such amazing friends.

fun fact: I learned that I can finally (occasionally) bike with no hands!!!

day 3: a sunny day in Mystic, and just a sliver more dilly-dallying than I could afford to make the first train home

Sunday was the main reason I spent the previous night in Providence, as I wanted to cheer on two of my friends running the Mystic Half. I woke up at around 6 AM to the smell of S’s delicious honey-rosemary sourdough focaccia, and we packed some breakfasts of yoghurt, blueberries, and homemade granola. We haven’t seen each other since St. Patty’s, but it felt like many more months than two had passed. Life in NYC can be incredibly fast and all-consuming, so it was a refreshing change of pace, scenery, and reminder of life just a year ago, when I would spend cozy nights helping S cook up yet another healthy and delicious dinner and eventually transition to yapping on her couch long past our early bird bedtimes.

S is an experienced runner and cheerer, so unlike the previous time I made it out to a race, we actually had a solid game plan for catching our friends in action. Equipped with cowbells and a crisp “you got that dog in you” poster, S and I cheered on our friends at both mile 7 and the finish line, getting more than a few surprise dog-calls from runners in response to our poster.

A third sunny day in one weekend is a rare treat in New England, so the five of us who made it out to Mystic enjoyed an ideal leisurely Sunday browsing stores, grabbing pizza and ice cream, and lying on the beach. At the end of the day, I hitched a ride with D to New Haven, where I had to face my final boss of the weekend: catching the train back to NYC.

We set our eyes on the 4:39 PM train, which was realistic even with a quick pit stop. It was a perfect final car ride to conclude the packed weekend; we talked about everything and nothing in particular — what the future might hold, how crazy it is that we’ve been friends for almost seven years.

D is one of those rare friends who will reliably say yes to most random ideas you propose to him, so over the years, he’s met pretty much everyone important in my life. The most annoying (aka endearing) part is that he might just be the most amiable person ever, so everyone I introduce him to immediately adores him and asks about him the next time I don’t bring him along. Everything said, it is quite special to have friends like D in my life.

We made a solid effort, more for the sake of it than the need for it, with D weaving through Connecticut traffic to get me to the station at 4:37 PM, and me making my best sleep-deprived sprint to the furthest platform at the station just in time to catch the train sitting in front of me with its closed doors, doors that would not budge despite my passionate attempts to draw sympathy from the conductor with frantic waves.

In the end, all I had to do was wait for the next commuter train in 40 minutes, so I grabbed a bottle of Vitamin Water and chugged it contentedly while waiting for my lungs to calm down. I’m sure I could build up to my own half-marathon eventually, but that day, a last-ditch two-minute sprint was just enough, if you ask me.

Woof woof!

closing thoughts

If I learned one thing from the whirlwind of events last weekend, it is that life is not about the mistakes we do or don’t make, but rather, about the people who are there to catch us on the other end, regardless of what happens. Because in the end, we remember the times we show up for each other, so even if it takes a few hurdles to make it out, or perhaps, because it does, it means all the more when we do.

<3 Jay