The D train came on the A/C line yesterday. I wasn't expecting it because down at Broadway-Lafayette, there were dozens of signs announcing the D was not running over the weekend and to take the F instead (underneath some of those signs were other announcements about the F being out of service too). But as I was bopping down the stairs to the new Lady Gaga album, I saw a D leaving the station. But by the time I had let two F trains pass, I assumed I was mistaken and got on the third F to arrive. When I got off at West 4th to take the A/C up to Columbus Circle or the Upper West Side (whichever train came first), the D suddenly showed up.
It was unexpected and I wasn't sure what route it would be taking or where it would end up, but I got on it anyways and was pleasantly surprised to find myself where I wanted to be, at Columbus Circle. I probably could've just taken the F to the 1 at 14th and been fine, but this was faster, though it did come with the risk that I'd end up far from where I thought I'd be.
That's all to say: New York City drives me crazy. I don't know if it's never not driven me crazy. And yet, it's familiar. I've only ever ridden the train the wrong direction once, and it wasn't even when I was new here; it was because I was so used to one route that I forgot I was supposed to be going another way once.
There's this random monologue that I've always just had in the back of my brain from that WB show Everwood. I don't remember any of the context or story – I barely remembered the lead character's name – but it's all about how, inside of some of us, there's this "tragic flaw" of being unable to change. It concludes: "When we finally do change, I don’t think it happens like an earthquake or an explosion, where all of a sudden we’re like this different person. I think it’s smaller than that. The kind of thing most people wouldn’t even notice unless they looked at us really close. Which, thank God, they never do. But you notice it. Inside you that change feels like a world of difference."
When I got on that bus five years ago, with two suitcases and a backpack, I had no clear idea of what would happen, where I'd end up in five days, let alone five years. I don't regret any of it. I don't regret a second of the person I've grown to be, the person I'm still learning to not be, and the person I've discovered I still need to find.
Anyways. I don't want to get into it right now, but I'm moving out of New York. More on that later.