On my way home.

It was something of an odyssey to get back from a family dinner in Brooklyn tonight. It should've been a little less than an hour; it was closer to two. Someone pulled the brake on the F line, so instead of riding the F to the 2/3, it was the G to the A to the 2 - more stops, more transfers, more waiting, including nearly a half-hour waiting on the F line for something to happen until someone announced it wouldn't be moving anytime soon.

There was a train directly behind the one that'd stopped in the station, meaning that if there was anyone on that train, they couldn't even get out and leave until the stopped train got dealt with. A small relief to at least be able to find another way home.

For most of the way, I told myself my apartment wasn't going anywhere and while it'd be later than I'd like, I'd still get to my own bed well before midnight. I also asked my dad that, for all the delays and all the trouble, where else in the United States could there be this kind of disruption to regular public transit service where there'd be enough existing infrastructure and alternate routes to still get us back before the end of the night?

In other places, I'd have my own ways of getting around. Here, I rely on the trains. It's something of a minor miracle they work as well as they do, and tonight's hard proof of that.