Arrested Development

     Long Island is about as close as I can afford to actually living in NYC, so inevitably the train is going to win my people's choice award for most seemingly logical means of transportation to and from this much dreamed about Mecca. However, due to scheduling, and the fact that the train really could care less when my actual classes start or when any other possible daily City itineraries might commence, I always end up arriving in the City approximately 40 minutes or so prior to the actual start time of anything that requires my real participation. Now those of you that are not familiar with the Long Island Rail Road and it's decisions on what times to pickup/dropoff  passengers, when to actually stop at or pass by a certain town, it's track numbers, or possible letters, and their choices of final destination (apparently not all trains wind up at Penn Station (Manhattan)....lesson learned....twice), might be wondering, "How come so early Melissa?" Listen, it's hard enough purchasing the correct ticket these days with those computerized machines (do I need On Peak, Off Peak, Roundtrip, One way, which station am I going to or am I even at for that matter,  and knowing my luck, a possible time travel ticket to a nonexsistent location is going to be in order)....if that wasn't bad enough, it was just recently election time, and wouldn't you know it, those damn elected officials feel the inherent need to hand you a flyer while mechanically stating their policies (in an election you can't vote in for you are not currently a NY resident) at the exact moment you're trying to purchase a ticket from this said demonic machine, which by the way, doesn't take cash, not even the crisp kind, so don't bother trying (and of course your train will be leaving the station at that particular moment, so be on guard).  Even those who've lived here their whole lives have horror stories concerning this speeding bullet's thought process, and apparent mind of its own, so, I'm lucky when I've even managed to catch one, or for that matter arrive at the correct location at all, so the extra free time I could of used for much needed sleep or catching up on my new herb garden hobby is no longer a high priority, for I have made it to the city and now have a good shot at making it to where I have to be, when I actually have to be there. 
     Upon arrival at Penn Station, one of two things will most definitely occur, you will either be left standing there alone, completely clueless as to which direction to go, which stairs to take or which exit you will wind up appearing from, or you will be swept up in a claustrophobic crowd not knowing which direction to go, which stairs to take or which exit you will wind up appearing from. Since both offer numerous different scenarios and an abundance of options, I've always found the crowd to be more comforting myself ("at least I'm not in this alone" mentality), however, to each his own, though until you find yourself in that particular situation...don't judge. Now when it comes to actually surfacing in Penn Station, Good Luck and God Speed are all I can ever wish for you. For those of you unfamiliar with Penn's particular surroundings, I can compare it to that of a zoo, in which all of the animals are no longer caged, having free reign amongst the grounds likened to that of a strip mall, where no one really knows whats going on, yet all seem to have a purpose that most certainly must be fulfilled or destruction of the universe is eminent. 
     Now, this particular morning I arrive early, of course, and go to my favorite bagel place (for NY bagels are in a league of their own, no frozen Lenders here people) and pick up my usual egg bagel with cream cheese (only 2 dollars...have to mention that, because I'm still astounded by that cheap fact). I take my bagel and proceed to my quiet little staked out corner of Penn that over the previous few weeks I have happily happened upon, though now that I think about it, I wouldn't describe it so much as quiet, but more like a little girl's bicycle horn as opposed to a large town's fog horn. I sit on the ground because I'm a risk taker here people, got to live on the edge sometimes you know. Besides, I do actually enjoy this partcular angle, for people watching, especially in Manhattan, has got to be one of the most enjoyable, revolting, question inducing, mind blowing experiences known to man kind. So I get comfortable, unwrap my bagel and take a bite. Damn it, that morning they had apparently put the buttered egg bagels in the spot for the cream cheese laced ones, for now I am eating a buttered egg bagel, though not bad, not what I was expecting, or for that matter, even wanting this particular morning, but then again it was all to fitting for what I was about to be witness to.
     Picture this. I'm in a corner on the ground in Penn eating my much unwanted buttered bagel, millions of people running this way and that, then something particular catches my eye; 2 cops and a police dog are slowly heading towards me. The 2 cops seem to be in a bit of a debate, oh hell, it was practically an all out argument, and it wasn't until they came closer and stopped that I was able to make out exactly what it was over. Cop 1, let's call him Bob, and Cop 2, let's call him Jon (originality is my middle name), are having a heated discussion over none other than their walkie talkies. Bob is trying to get Jon to tune in (by the way you have to forgive me for not knowing the correct "walkie talkie" vernacular, the last time I possessed a set, I was maybe 7) to the signal (we'll call it Signal A) that he was allegedly on. Now Jon is insisting he is most certainly on Signal A, and Bob must be the one who's on the wrong signal. This repartee goes back and forth until I literally witness Bob drop to his knees, ear held up to Jon's walkie talkie, while he speaks into his. I figured this was in order for Bob to see if Jon was on the same signal as him, because being halfway intelligent myself, if this was indeed the case, as Bob spoke into his walkie talkie, he would be able to hear his voice coming out of Jon's walkie talkie directly into his ear. Still on the ground, Bob yells, "You see, I can't hear myself in yours, you must be on the wrong signal." Jon replys, "That's weird, cause I can hear you perfectly fine." Bob then says, " The only reason you can hear me is because I am kneeling down in front of you yelling loudly, so you really would be unable to miss what I'm saying, even if you were hard of hearing." Jon retorts, "Ridiculous, I am on the same signal as you, and that's a fact." Jon then grabs Bob's walkie talkie (Bob is still on the ground of course) and places it to his ear as he proceeds to speak into his. Now, this argument does go on for a good 10 minutes in front of me, it is extremely riveting, and the dog appears mortified, but truth is, I am not sure if they ever figured out who was wrong or if the signal in question was the problem (all signs did point to it not being the signal's fault), but it was at this time I had to get to class. However, as I was leaving, I couldn't help but to think, regardless of this argument's outcome, at that moment I felt extremely safe, thank God these 2 are on the streets protecting me.