I went to high school in Queens, but I lived in Westchester. So, on the days that I didn't get a ride, it took me an hour and a half to get to school on the 5 train (two and a half if you count the commute to the train station and train delays).
After the first month of school, I successfully memorized the train schedule. The express train came at 6:00, 6:10, 6:25, 6:30, 6:35, 7:00, and 7:01. I didn't know the 7:01 existed until the day I missed the 7:00 all because I wanted to sleep for one more minute. Here's what happened.
I caught the 5, and everything went well until we reached 149th street. This was where the 4 and 5 lines overlapped, causing huge delays especially when they met up again at 125th. My train paused at the tunnel entrance and let the 4 go in front of us. Afterwards, the 5 pulled into the station and waited until the congestion caused by a "police investigation" cleared up. Anyways, a couple delays later, I caught the Q at 59th street and took it to Queensboro Plaza. Once again, my train stalled at the station. Of course, I was livid because the 7 train was just across the platform, its open doors waiting to welcome my poor, distressed soul. But, the Universe would have it that the 7 pulled off as soon as the Q opened its doors. Needless to say, I reached school late and my 1st period teacher had a policy where she didn't let anyone in after the bell, so I waited out first period in the guidance counselor's office. I was late, hungry, and frustrated. And, on top of that, my tough morning led to an extremely stressful day. All because of one minute.
That one measly minute held the power to dictate my mood and the trajectory of my day. Who would've thought?
