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My Trip to Delaware, Part Three: Why I Was There

16 May

May 16, 2013

We arrived in Delaware without incident, but it was close. In Trenton there was a “if you see something say something” situation. The train pulled in to the station it was mostly empty. A few people got off, a few got on, and the station was more or less deserted. But from where I sat on the train, looking out the window and around the station, I saw a pink duffel bag sitting under a bench. A few people walked by but no one seemed to notice it and if they did, there was no one on the platform to report it too. I sat for a few minutes and wondered what, if anything to do, when the train pulled out.

Luckily (if sadly) it was most likely a little girl’s lost luggage since the Trenton Amtrak station , to this day, is still standing.

If You See Something, Say Something.

 

We pulled in to the train station and went outside to wait for our ride. While there, we met up with the missing fourth member of the team. She made the train at the last-minute and had to stand most of the trip. Meanwhile, we were standing some more, about half an hour more, while we waited for our ride.

This made no sense to any of us. Directly across the street from the station was a large office complex, our destination. We were waiting for a ride to pick us up and bring us across a nearly empty street. The building was so close that a half-way decent baseball player, or an exceptional Met, could have hit a pop fly to the lobby.

While we were standing there our ride arrived, and to my surprise it was the local regional superintendent for my Company. At the same time, my direct supervisor received a text that the location had changed. Nice timing. Poor planning but nice timing.

The first day of the trip was simply attending an all-associate meeting by the head of the Company In Which I Am Employed. I have sat at my desk and teleconferenced about ten of these so it was truly a waste of time to attend in person. But we had about two hours to kill before the meeting so my group and some related groups retreated to a private room in the conference center to do some team building exercises. In my days as a teacher I did dozens of those and they were not worth a two-hour train ride to another state. We tossed a beach ball around and whoever caught it answered a question like “if you had a yacht what would you name it?” (May answer- “Not The Titanic because I don’t want it to sink.”) and “If you could have the world’s largest collection of something, what would it be?” (My answer- “$100 bills.”) I was not asked “if you had any car in the world, which would you most like to drive?” (My answer- “The Batmobile.”)

My conference was not nearly this important or interesting

My conference was not nearly this important or interesting

 

Wilmington Delaware is about as big as my bedroom but has less to do. After the amazing Day One festivities ended at 3:00, my team waited for the hotel shuttle to pick us up. There was a very large, very nice, and very convenient hotel right across the street but due to circumstances beyond my control (my supervisor screwed up) we booked late and the hotel was full. We ended up staying in a hotel not just at the other end of town, but the other end of another town entirely.

We sat on a bench in the parking lot for over an hour and a half, during which I split my time between calling home and complaining and taking pictures of the minor league ballpark at the other end of the lot. (You can see my great pictures by clicking here.)

Not only had we traveled all morning and were tired, but we were also starving since our conference featured a “working lunch,” in which I had bites of a tuna wrap in between catching the beach ball. The highlight of the meeting was seeing the lone Canadian representative cut the stem off a strawberry with a fork.

hotel_shuttleAfter much pacing, grumbling, and complaining, the shuttle arrived and took us to our hotel. Normally, the driver explained, the trip to the hotel was only 25 minutes, but because of construction we would be taking a detour and would arrive in only 40 minutes. None of us were happy. When the driver asked where we were from, my boss literally kicked the back of my seat and said “answer him.” I had to ask him to repeat the question since I had totally zoned out as soon as I got on the shuttle, day dreaming about ditching all responsibility and going the heck home.

Meanwhile, later that night, other people from my company went out for fancy dinners, shopped in a fancy mall, or caught a movie. Not my team. We were stuck in the hotel.

Our hotel was located at the intersection of two highways and a swamp.

 

TO BE CONCLUDED

My Trip to Delaware, Part One: Penn Station

14 May

May 14, 2013

I was going on a very inconvenient two day business trip to Delaware. The Company I Am employed by was sending my team to Wilmington for two days of, well, honestly nothing much. I’ll get to the point of the trip later, if I can find it. The thing to recall is that the meeting was scheduled across Tuesday and Wednesday. No the beginning of the week, not the end of the week, stuck right in the middle.

We were all going by Amtrak and were meeting in Penn Station. For me, living in Brooklyn, this was not big deal. My luggage consisted of only what I could carry in my backpack. I made sure to bring a book to read- The Exorcist- and a journal to write in. And it was a good thing I brought the journal because there was a lot to take note of, starting with Penn Station.

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Penn Station is one of the major transportation hubs in the City, located right under Madison Square Garden. (MSG bills itself as The World’s Most Famous Arena and they are right.)This is either a stroke of genius or a stroke of lunacy, placing the busiest railroad center under the busiest sports arena in one of the busiest sections of midtown. I have to think that this was planned for the ease of Al-Qaeda. There, you get a unique mix of businessmen and women, Knicks and Rangers fans, the homeless, tourists, and, I assume and hope, more NYPD surveillance cameras than even Michael Bloomberg can count.

To get to Penn Station you descend a large escalator located right under the Madison Square Arena sign and you better be paying attention because the number one hobby of folks on their way down is drinking coffee and shoving.

As you get to the bottom you arrive at a large circular mall. One side is lined with newsstands, seedy coffee shops, and dirty snack bars. The other side is lined with newsstands, seedy coffee shops, and dirty snack bars. Only the companies change. Even the homeless look identical. In the center of the circle, forcing you to go around, is a ticket window. The tracks are on the other side of the circle. This section of Penn Station is currently under renovation and has been my entire adult life. The estimated date of completion is ∞. However, since this New York, we know that the real date of completion will be about 10 years later.

I was lucky enough to be there on a holiday, the Annual Clearing of the Hobos. The men’s room entrance was flanked by what appeared to be an honor guard- two rows on either side of the door of uniformed policemen, backed at a discreet distance by heavily armed soldiers (seriously, yes. Penn Station was and still is full of heavily armed soldiers.) Down the center of the parade route were “escorted” an endless stream of filthy homeless sorry, I can’t be politically correct on this, they were too disgusting to be simply homeless. One man was clad only in a garbage bag wrapped around his waist. This was already in full swing when I arrived and went on for another 10 minutes.

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However, the police did nothing to the rest of the homeless loitering around or laying down in the station. I was waiting with most of the other travelers near the arrivals and departures sign waiting for my team. I have to give the Penn Station maintenance staff credit for trying to keep the place clean. Unfortunately it was a losing battle.  For example, a business man would drop a newspaper into the garbage can. Problem was, the garbage cans were designed to be very wide to hold a lot of trash but they had very small openings. I saw this happen a few times. The business man would drop his paper into the can, but it would actually either get stuck in the small opening or just sit on the outside of the can. The homeless people each had what seemed like their own designated can. In other words, any trash in or around the can was theirs and when I once saw a homeless woman get too close to another homeless woman’s can the “owner” of the can hissed at her until the interloper moved on.

So a newspaper would land on the outside of the can and a homeless person would immediately swoop in from their position just a few feet away and grab the paper. But at the same time, a Penn Station employee would try to get to the can first to stuff the paper deep inside. I feel sorry for those guys because not only is it their job to outrace homeless guys for garbage but they also have to wear little red bowties with their uniforms.

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New York Magazine called Penn Station the Community Center for the Mole People and I think they got it right.

Overall Penn Station was dingy. Superficially it resembles an airport terminal with shops and waiting areas, but airport terminals don’t have a layer of grime or roving packs of trash-stealing homeless. To be fair, the homeless were not a problem for me, in that they did not harass me or anyone else as far as I could see. The huge numbers of police and soldiers might have had something to do with that.

Al this time I was waiting for the other three members of my team to arrive, including my direct supervisor. I met up with her first. She then confirmed that the third member of the team was in the station, somewhere on line behind us. We were not able to confirm if the fourth person was even in the building when our train was called and we went to the tracks.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

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