My man Murphy and his mother fuckin’ law. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. That’s exactly what happened to me when I tried to go to the Knicks game. I guess shame on me for actually going to a Knicks game. It’s sad that I go to Knicks games not to see them play, but purely for the opposition. I’m sure I’m not the only one. Knicks vs. Wizards at the Garden. I’m all in to see my boy J Wall cross up Ron Baker. Now back to the story of a journey about just getting to the game.
I left work and headed to the train station, gave myself plenty of time. No rush, going to be a great night: crush some beers with my boy, talk locker room talk a bit, and watch the Wiz kids. GUESS AGAIN, DREW. There is a strong difference between rain, down pour and raining fucking side ways. I pull into the parking lot of the train station and it is raining fucking side ways. I put my Melo jersey on, give myself a little pump up speech and make the dash across the parking lot towards the platform. Naturally, it was raining side ways directly in my face as I ran. I only managed to step in one puddle, which I count as a win. As I come tearing into cover on the platform I run into this man and I strike up a conversation with him. Normal rain talk:
“Man, it’s really coming down out there!”
“You know what they say, April showers brings May flowers!”
“Bad day to forget an umbrella, amiright?!”
Anyway, after reaching into my bucket of rain lines and not getting anything but a blank stare with a bit of a perverted (yet calming) grin from this gentleman, I didn’t know what the hell was going on. He kept staring at me so I continued talking, wearing my Melo jersey I started talking about the Knicks and their struggles over the year, about how we should trade Melo and how I was excited to see John Wall play. After ranting on for a solid 5 minutes he reached in his pocket and pulled this out and handed it to me:
Shout out to Jeffery. Nothing like having a conversation with someone and having them tell you they’re deaf 5 minutes later. Needless to say after Jeffery told me he was deaf and started pointing at my jersey and flicking his wrist for a jumper and screaming basketball, we became BOYS. As this went on, I heard the announcement that the incoming train was 6 minutes delayed. 6 minutes? That ain’t nothing for me and my deaf boy. I wrote out on my phone what the announcement said and he started doing these weird signs and then died laughing. He later told me he was signing “asshole train” and I guess somehow I was suppose to know that. Well I know it now. Suddenly another announcement boomed over the speaker notifying us that the 5:11 train will now be delayed 12 minutes. At this point, I started getting ticked off. Again I typed out the disappointing news to Jeffery and he certainly was not pleased. As another 15 minutes passed, the railroad crossings FINALLY came down and I saw the train approaching in the distance. Abruptly the train stops… it is so close yet so far. I looked on my LIRR train app and it said the train was not canceled: it simply said HELD. What in God’s name does HELD mean?
10 minutes passed, 15 minutes passed and then people that were waiting on the platform with me began leaving. I was so confused. The crossing was down, I saw the damn train! LETS GO TRAIN! Without knowing if it was canceled or not, but knowing that I couldn’t just stand there with fuckin’ Jeffery I had to get to the damn game. (I later found out that a tree fell on the tracks.)
Fuck that tree. Also, what are the chances a tree falling 3 minutes before the train arrives?!
I checked my phone and saw I had 20 minutes until the next train left from Mineola in order for me to get the game in time. My first step off the platform was directly in a puddle, which should have been sign for things to come. I ran back out in the
down pour side ways rain and sprinted over to the parking lot to my car to book it over to the Mineola station 5-10 minutes away. As I ran up to my car, I couldn’t find my keys in my pocket, looked in my window and saw my car keys sitting right on my drivers seat… I locked myself out of my car, in the damn sideways rain storm. I started yelling every damn swear word in my vast repertoire of swear words, mostly dominated with different “fuckisms.”
Most people would have taken this as a sign to just quit, a sign to throw in the towel. I don’t have quit in my vocabulary, I saddled the fuck up and started running.
Something about running in the rain makes you feel heroic. Yet there is something about running in the rain knowing you just locked yourself out your car, going to watch the pitiful Knicks play makes running in the rain a little different. Whatever. I still felt like a damn gladiator. I came to realization that I wouldn’t make it if I ran. I checked uber; it would take 20 minutes to get to me because of the traffic jam this railroad crossing caused. Just an absolute shitshow was happening around me. It came down to plan D: running to my grandma’s house and hopefully borrowing her car. To grandmother’s house we go.
I get in my Grandma’s house in pure panic asking if I could borrow her car. In between breaths telling her I only have 10 minutes to catch the train, the first thing she says to me is “Why aren’t you wearing a coat, you’re going to get sick.” “Oh, you’re soaking wet!” “Are you hungry? I’ll make you a sandwich, sit down.” I finally got it through to her that I needed to leave immediately and needed to borrow her car. After debating back and forth if she would just drop me off, I convinced her to let me just borrow it so she didn’t have drive in the rain (and make me miss the train.) I jumped in that ’94 Camry and made that baby purrrrr.
I parked the car in some random lot and booked it onto the train making it by a half a step. Naturally, I let out a huge, won the World Series type, “LET’S GOOO!”
You should have seen all the prude sobers on the train staring at me like I was the prude sober. Out of breath, drenched, and way too fired up, I swagged out over to an open seat ready to get my Knicks on.
The actual game was great. The Knicks lost obviously, but John Wall did some cool shit. Also, you know you’re at a Knicks game when you stand up more for the t-shirt toss than the actual game.