It was supposed to be simple, yet serendipitous - I was taking a four day stint across western Massachusetts and southern Vermont at the same time as Joel, a fellow kibbutznik (of "Vote For Joel!" fame) was to be visiting friends in southern Vermont. Tickled at the prospect of seeing my Seattle neighbor out of context, we made practical plans: since Joel was traveling by train, and I by car, I would give him a lift from Brattleboro to the train station in Springfield - about an hour and a half drive - on my way to Worcester for my evening poetry feature.
So how did Joel and I end up in Albany?
It started with a snowstorm that walloped central and eastern Massachusetts, and everything south of there. However, we were safely west of the snow line, and so assumed we'd get to the train without trouble. We didn't stop to consider the possibility of accidents further down the highway that would put us in a dead-stop gridlock for over an hour. Silly us.
As we sat, unmoving, watching as car after car desperately pulled (very) illegal u-turns across the median, we realized we needed a new plan. Joel, the geography major, pulled out my mother's very well-loved maps, hooked his cell phone up to his laptop to get some internet access, and started making plans.
He thought he might be able to still catch a bus in Springfield that would take him to the next stop in time to catch the train, but those hopes died as we inched along. Then we thought I might be able to drive him to the next stop, once we got off the blasted highway, but time ticked on, and we soon realized that the only way Joel was going to make his train to Chicago was if he caught it in Albany, NY.
And hell, what was I going to do anyway? My poetry feature had been long canceled, due to the snow, and there was no way I was going to fight the roads to get back to Boston before nightfall.
It seemed as good a time as any for a little adventure.
We eventually got off the cursed highway, and (after being shuffled along a few detours) started plowing down the Mass Pike towards New York. We played road trip music and called Joel's partner, Tamar, in Israel, to say hi and share the ridiculousness. I marveled at technology - Joel's cellphone internet gave us turn-by-turn directions to the Albany train station, and helped us find a place to eat dinner, and my cell phone hooked up to the car so we could both talk without holding the phone or using speakerphone. It was as stress-free as if we'd planned the thing.
Once we got to Albany, we had some time to kill, so I introduced Joel to my great New York Lotto Tradition, and won two whole dollars!
I think Joel was amused. After that, we ate dinner in what could only be described as an Upstate NY pizza place - you know, six menu items, an Italian flag painted on the wall, a hockey game on TV, and a woman at the counter who seems perturbed that you should dare interrupt her recounting of yesterday's soaps to order a pizza. I asked for some tap water for us, and she handed me two cups and pointed me to the bathroom.
But, as is also occasionally the case with New Yorkers, she eventually asked us if we were waiting to catch a train, and we explained our whole saga, which she found amusing. Finally, stuffed on thin crust and canned mushrooms, I left Joel at the platform and headed back down the Pike for Boston, where, three hours later, I found my family's open arms and a welcome couch to crash on.
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