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February 02, 2006
Penn Station is Ugly and Impossible to Navigate and I Hate It
Can I share my little nightmare-at-Penn-Station scenario? I was looking forward to a nice quiet train ride to Boston on Thursday. I had a ticket for the 6 p.m. train and I got to stinky slimy Penn with a half hour to spare. I looked at the board to see where to get on my train and no gate had been assigned to it or any other train in the next 20 minutes. So I figured I had time to go shopping. I browsed in the airport-style bookstore and as usual, became paralyzed by indecision. I was anxious about catching the train, but typically, I felt the stress might yield better shopping results, so I continued to browse. And it worked! I found a good gift for a friend. I also found a Boston map.
Then, since my nervous energy was bubbling up in my chest, I checked the time. 5:36. Time to check the board. I check the board, but at first glace it seems the same. I roll my eyes, look again. No, wait, it's not the same, there's one train boarding and it's mine. Shit. Gate 9E. Where the hell are the gates? I see a sign and start walking in that direction. I get to the huge NJ Transit area and see tons of people waiting around. I see signs for gates 1-5 and 10-11, but no 9. There are two huge stairways in the middle of the waiting area. I look for signs. There isn't a fucking sign anywhere about where they lead to, but everyone's going down them and I figure it's worth a try. Bad move. I go down, see only NJ trains, and have to lug my luggage back up again. I look around wildly now, hoping there's someone official-looking I can ask for help. No. Then I spot a little sign saying gates 9-10. Someone is checking tickets. Yes! I get in line, a guy checks my ticket, and I go down the escalator. I get on the train under the 9E sign, and start walking through each car looking for seats. There are only double seats, and it seems like poor etiquette to sit directly next to someone, so I look for my own row. It takes me the length of the train to find a place, but finally I do. I'm sweaty and tired. I haul my suitcase up to the luggage rack and collapse into my seat.
Seconds later, the conductor starts the departure announcement: "Train 2320 is about to depart. If you are not traveling on this train, please get off. This train will make stops at Newark..." Newark? That's an odd stop for a train going to Boston. "...Baltimore..." Okay, now I'm freaked out and I start to grab my stuff. Thinking that I followed the rules, though, I ask someone where the train's ending up -- she can't hear me. I say it again, loud. "D.C." It must be almost 6 now. There are people standing up in the aisle, just standing there, so I have to fight my way off, bumping and shoving and explaining myself. Once on the platform, there are no stairs or conductors in sight at first. Then I see one stepping off the train, so I yell, "Where's the Boston train?" He looks confused and says, “Uh, about two platforms over?”
I'm completely fucking panicked now. I hate Penn station. How the hell to they make getting on to a god damned train so difficult? Grand Central handles it beautifully. There is a sense of calm, and the architecture lends historical perspective to your trip. The ceiling is beautiful and the main hall is majestic. If you miss your train, you can go to the oyster bar and drown your sorrows with a Bloody Mary and some clam chowder. There are classy stores where successful business people can buy gourmet food and educational wooden toys from Holland. At Penn, everyone exudes disgust. It's like the station froze in time in 1979, when the city was dirty and ugly and people hated each other. The lighting is depressing, it's crowded to the point of feeling like a rush hour train in some spots, and everything is gray. There are airport-type chain stores lining the halls. Bad neon signage makes thing look sad and impersonal. The layout makes no sense -- there's some sort of huge column right in the middle of the place that you have to walk around. Depressed, frustrated people mill about. There are lines. It feels like a maze, or a rat cage. People gather around the announcement board waiting to be assigned a gate, their heads tilted back, staring.
So, on the wrong platform, I run toward anything that might be a stairway. I find an escalator going the wrong way. I feel like I'm losing precious time. Finally, I find stairs. I pick up my luggage, which is now starting to feel extremely heavy, and heave myself upstairs. At the top, again, there are NO signs indicating anything useful. I find a TV with departures, though, and stare at it hard. Boston. 5E. I want to make sure this time. Boston... 5E. Okay. I'm at 11 now. I see no 5. I run the other way. I see "Gates 4-5" in a small sign, not like the others. But the entrance under the sign has an escalator going the WRONG WAY. I briefly consider running down it, but think that with luggage that might be a bad idea. I'm in some sort of underground nightmare scenario. I move to the other side of the tunnel and find another 4-5 sign, thankfully with stairs. I run down it like a maniac and ask the train people, breathlessly, "Boston?" They say yes. I'm a complete mess. I can barely get on the damn thing. My face must be beet red. Such a close call. Once on the train I ask a passenger again, just to make sure, if this is indeed the Boston train. She nods. I find a seat and spend approximately the first 30 minutes of the train ride recovering, hoping my next-door-neighbors don't think I'm an idiot because I'm red and sweaty and seem to be coughing a little too often for comfort. Oy.
Next time, I am not, under any circumstance, to go shopping, and I'm going to ask the conductor where the train is going before I get on.
Posted by csageday at February 2, 2006 03:53 PM