Traveling to New York, Like an Amateur

Contrary to what the title may have you believe, this is not a quirky travel guide but instead, the story of how it took me four trains and an Uber to make a trip that normally takes, at most, five hours.

As the high of college graduation wears off and the onset of adult responsibilities begin, I decided that I was due for a trip to Long Island to visit my family. In a pre-COVID world, we would make the trip, either by car or train, at least two times a year. However, since the pandemic, I hadn’t been back in over two years. Taking the Amtrak is arguably the easiest way to get from D.C. to Long Island, however, there are obstacles that might get in the way, but when I started my trip at 5 A.M. to depart from Union Station, D.C. I wasn’t worried about the trek.

Union Station, to Penn Station, to the Long Island Railroad.

I booked my tickets about a week prior, I had them downloaded on my phone. All was good. I started to pay attention to my surroundings and the conductor’s voice over the announcement system when we reached around Trenton, NJ, knowing that there were only a handful more stops until we hit New York. At this time it’s inching closer to 11:00 A.M. — which was when I was supposed to be arriving at Penn Station. This is when I start to get a little worried, because my LIRR train is supposed to leave Penn Station at 11:22 A.M. and according to Google maps I’m still in…Jersey?

I don’t give it too much thought — as I’m trying not to worry too much because I’ve made this trip dozens of times before. So, when the conductor calls out “Penn Station,” I grab my things, look around, and walk off the train onto a platform that looks strikingly unfamiliar. “In all the times I’ve gone to Penn Station…I don’t remember it being…outside?,” I think to myself as I continue to walk further off the platform onto a flight of stairs. Now, alarm bells are beginning to sound in my head but I try to remain calm. I remain so calm even that when I reach the top of the stairs and watch the man ahead of me take out his paper Metro card, swipe it through the turnstile gate, and go through…I do what any real New Yorker would do.

I jump the turnstile.

I’m not supposed to be here. I don’t have a ticket and I sure as hell, don’t have a Metro card with me. So, without even giving it a second thought, I’m stepping over the turnstile onto a platform I now realize that I have never been on in my life. This is where the panic begins to set in, especially when I noticed the Port Authority Police who have obviously seen me skip out on the fare. I have a few options at this point: 1) Pretend I know where I’m going and loiter on the platform until the next train comes, get on it, and figure it out from there. 2) Call my dad and explain to him how I seriously messed up. Or 3) Ask for directions and help.

As much as I would’ve liked to look like a cool, suave New Yorker here, at this point I’m sticking out like a sore thumb, so I swallow my pride and approach the cops for help — but not before making a quick phone call to my dad to brief him on the situation. They were very relaxed about the whole “jumping the turnstile” situation seeing as I was stranded, and told me that if I’m trying to get to Manhattan I should hop on the next train and it would take me to the World Trade Center. Phew. At this point, as long as I was able to make it into New York City, I knew I would be fine. So, I end up on the PATH train, shoulder to shoulder with a bunch of NJ strangers, headed to 1 World Trade Center.

When getting off the train at the WTC, you will quickly realize that you are now in a place even more confusing than the Subway Stations themselves. The Oculus. A few years back, my mom and I made a weekend trip to the city right when they opened the Oculus — which is a massive shopping mall that resembles a bright white, shiny skeleton. I remember, at the time we went, we were taken aback not only by how clean and new it was, but also by how impossible it felt to find your way out. There are lots of escalators only going in one direction and the entire building is shaped like a circle so it feels like you’re constantly going around and around in the same place.

After already being bested by Amtrak, I was not going to let this building get me too. I literally walked around the outside of the circle until I found the first exit that would take my street side, and booked it.

While I wasn’t supposed to ever see the light of day in the city in this leg of my trip, I enjoyed my five minute walk outside the World Trade Center and my 30 minute Uber ride to Penn Station New York City. This is where the mistake in my ways came to light. At some point over the past few years — mind you, it’s been at least two since I made this trip by train — they renamed the Amtrak station in Penn Station, New York City to “Moynihan Train Hall at Penn Station.” All while, just a short half hour away, Penn Station New Jersey is sitting just one stop — and ten miles — short of the Big Apple.

In my rushed state to buy my train tickets, I had selected the New Jersey location instead of the New York City location because when I searched “Penn Station,” it was the only one that came up in the New York/New Jersey region. Further and in my defense, I sent my copy of this ticket to multiple of my family members before departing on the fated Vermonter, and nobody else managed to catch this mistake either.

Seeing as at this point, I had already missed my 11:22 A.M. LIRR train, I had plenty of time to sit and dwell on this mistake while sitting in the depths of the New York City Penn Station waiting for the next one to come. Of course, somewhere along the line, I should’ve caught on to the fact that maybe Newark, NJ is not where I want to be, but when I finally did come to that realization I was already on the platform and my Amtrak train was long gone. Perhaps pulling into the Penn Station New Jersey station and seeing that it was outdoors should have been my first giveaway, but now we will never know.

While I wish that I wouldn’t have made this mistake in the first place, it has made for a great story in which I continue to realize where I should’ve known I had it wrong. The whole fiasco only added on two hours to my trip, which for a debacle as big as this one, you would think I would’ve been stranded longer.

Thankfully, now I’m faithfully recounting this story while sitting safely on my grandparents couch on Long Island, where I will prepare to (hopefully not) do the entire thing in reverse this weekend!