Today we visited our old home in Harlem to turn in our apartment keys. We planned to take the 9:45 AM metro north train into the city, but that was only going to be possible with some hustling. Amari ran down Washington boulevard to ensure we would make the train, and I followed close on his heel pushing Joshy in the stroller.
My dear, trini husband, however, casually strolled down the sidewalk with an ease as if he were sipping mint julep tea on a warm July evening. I, while running, picked up Amari and bustled past the crowd which had just exited the very train we were trying to board. We flew up the upstairs, onto the platform and jumping on the train which was calmly waiting for us on the platform.
The metro north is NOT the NYC subway, and their doors do not bounce open after you jam your foot in the way, as I found out while trying to hold the door for hubby. He was no where insight, and the boys and I couldn’t get off the train.
Oh well. The doors were shut and the train was moving. My iPhone was unconscious, and has been since Sunday, so there was no way to call hubby and make plans to meet up. A very nice passenger alerted the conductor since I was looking a bit agitated and flustered. The next thing I knew the train was stopping and the conductor was letting us off. Clearly, he knew better than to keep an upset black woman with two young kids on his train, so he kindly pried open the door.
As I peek onto the platform I saw hubby and yelled for him to hop on. Can you believe they stopped the train? I mean, it had pulled out of the station already. The metro north usually runs like clockwork, but for my hubby I am willing to stop trains.
So, we ran a billion and a half errands, and on the walk back along 125th street hubby snapped a photo of the Michael Jackson memorial. Bye bye, New York, and officially, Welcome Stamford!
