A few weeks after I was born, I went to the NC State – Penn State football game. Though I don’t recall it, it seems I have been hooked on football since then. By the time I was four years old in 1979, I was watching the pro games on Thanksgiving Day at my grandparents, and a few days before Thanksgiving, 2008, I was given three tickets to the Philadelphia – Arizona Thanksgiving Day game. Boy, was I was excited!
First, I called Dan, technically my ex-step-father, but really, my dad, and invited him. Being a smart guy, he immediately said yes. Amazingly enough, I couldn’t find a way to use the third ticket, and so it was Dan and I made the trek on Thanksgiving to Lincoln Field via SEPTA.
Now for those of you not familiar with SEPTA, it is the much cursed, and much cursed at, South Eastern Pennsylvania Transit Authority, but more about cursing and SEPTA later! The first few hours of my trip included all the things that make for a great Thanksgiving in Pennsylvania: crisp cool autumn air, awaiting a football game to begin, finding out the Cowboys won (alright that one is mostly just for me) and spending time with family.
The game itself was entertaining and not overly close, though that didn’t stop plenty of fans from being very intense. Having great seats, plenty of space (thanks to that ticket I couldn’t get anyone to use), good company and the opportunity to take lots of pictures made the event pass in a heart beat.
Inevitably, when everything is going well, there is a bump in the road. In this case, a small directional error cost us to walk an extra couple of blocks back to the SEPTA stop. No big deal, really. SEPTA runs extra trains for big sporting events and (with all due respect to the Phillies) it is hard to imagine a bigger one than an Eagles game. So, as the air is getting colder, we get on the train, and make it to where we need to switch trains. It was then that we got turned around, lost among the aisles of closed shops and homeless, but hey, no big deal, SEPTA runs extra trains for big sporting events.
We find our way and get to the track, just as the train is leaving, but hey, no big deal, SEPTA runs extra trains for big sporting events.
Conductors are wonderful people, and many of my travels would no doubt have gone awry if not for these fine men and women. However, upon hearing from the conductor in front of me that this was the last train tonight, my first impulse was to smack him! How can this be the last train? SEPTA runs extra trains for big sporting events! It turns out that on Thanksgiving, SEPTA is too cheap to pay people holiday pay and so it does NOT run extra trains for big sporting events!
As the conductor wanders off, Dan and I find ourselves stuck in center city with nowhere to go. The next train is at a little after five and it is now a little after twelve. There are taxis, but such a trek would be terribly expensive, and so Dan, seeing an empty bench right near the tracks, suggests we spend the night there.
My dad, more than probably anyone else, has had a positive effect on me, my life, and how I see the world, but in this case his calmness was of no influence to me. SEPTA, on the other hand, was influencing me quite a bit, about to the point where I was frothing at the mouth. Alright, it might not have been quite that bad, but I assure you, as I paced to myself for the next four hours most of the words I uttered, I did not learn in church!
A funny thing happens when you pace the same space for hours. First, you pay no attention to it, at least I didn’t; I just swore at SEPTA and promised to get even. Then, after a while, you begin to count; number of tiles in the distance you walk, time it takes to walk that distance, number of times, oh wait, I lost count, too busy swearing about SEPTA.
As you walk the same space even longer in deserted quiet, you begin to think more universally and the more I walked the more I came to an interesting conclusion: I had spent four hours pacing, hadn’t eaten anything in about 16 hours (who wants to pay for stadium food), was cold (why the homeless stay upstairs off the tracks I suppose), had had about three hours sleep in the last thirty six hours, but I was the luckiest person in the building. I had my health, wonderful friends and family, a job I like, a bunch of interests, really everything and anything that anyone could want. Whereas, most of these people, certainly the ones huddled on the floor above me, would love to have just one of these things. And as I sit further removed from the event, I realize that the sad thing about that night is not that I missed my train, but that so many of the other people there did not miss theirs.
Guest Author Bio: Joshua Milton Anderson teaches and runs tournaments for Silver Knights Chess, as well as some eBay work, and spends his free time on a variety of history/puzzle projects. He lives in Paoli, PA, with his wife, Brandy, and a menagerie of plants and animals.
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Well said, sir. Well said.