Corrie took me as an assistant with her to a job in Egg Harbor, but not, mind you, Egg Harbor City, which is a different place (or thing). She was telling me it was in Southern Jersey, close to Atlantic City, but I had an incorrect notion in my brain about how far south Atlantic City was. When I saw it on a map I finally figured it out. Wowzers...
Then I realized that while Atlantic City is so far, it is only so far for the folks out here. Yes, it is at one entirely opposite end of a state, but states out here are so small, or seem so small if you grew up out west. People here are loathe to drive to Philly and back in a day, which is equivalent to driving from SLO to Santa Barbara and back, or Citrus Heights to SF or Berkeley and back...how many times have one of us driven from SLO to LA or the Bay Area and back in a day to run some stupid errand? Relative distances and collective imaginations...
In any case, Corrie and I set out on our subway at ten-til-eight Tuesday morning, going to Penn Station, which is on our route, thankfully, having no need to transfer trains. At Penn Station, we boarded a commuter train heading deep into Jersey, and departed at Princeton Junction. Apparently the Ivy League university is off a ways from the train line, and from Princeton Junction one can take a two-car train called, I'm not making this us, a "dinky", off due west towards the university, a few miles away.
At Princeton Junction, arriving around 10, we picked up the ZipCar Corrie had reserved, and I got to be navigator for our leisurely drive south-by-east to Egg Harbor, an inland (go figure) suburb of Atlantic City. I wanted to drive, since I have a valid license and all, but I'm not on Corrie's office plan, and we can ill-afford a speeding ticket, and boy, the ridiculous nature of Jersey roads, highways, traffic organization, and drivers drive a driver a certain kind of crazy.
Along the way we had fun laughing at things native Jersey folk probably think of as quirks, or when they find a particularly maddening traffic signal or sign while traveling outside of New Jersey, they might sigh wistfully and say, "Just like home..." We tried to stay off the main toll roads and drove through small towns, but out there they're all called "Townships", like you'll see a sign for "Edison TNSHP", with an abbreviation that makes you wonder "does leaving the vowels out really save that much money?" or "that W must be expensive."
We got lost, sort of, on the way back, since the road we were following turned out not to be the road it said it was (that makes little sense, I know, but fly to Jersey, rent a car, and try to keep your sanity driving around the interior; it'll become clearer), but we got back to the spot two minutes later than we were reserved for, but thankfully didn't incur a fine. We tried to find a place to eat by the Princeton Junction train station. Good luck with that yourself. If we weren't so hungry, we would've just waited. As it were, we had to choose between Dunkin' Donuts and Subways...
At least Subways has food that hasn't been deep-fried. Don't get me wrong; I've eaten at Dunkin Donuts plenty of times since moving out here; I've eaten at Subways, since moving out here, um, once--last Tuesday in Jersey. That kind of food hurts my body, and I was hurting for most of the train ride back.
I'm glad Corrie had someone--me--to join her on a trip like that...if it had been me alone, or her alone...jeeze, blood-pressure levels would have been dangerously high for the better part of the day, possibly week...
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