[after relinquishing the phone from my roommate who answered it 'cos I was brushing my teeth]
Me: Hello?
Train Station Guy: No trains today.
Me: Wow, okay. ... are you sure?
Train Station Guy: Yep, that's what they're telling me.
(Side note: hah, I totally undermined his authority and train station guy omniscience!!)
But anyway, I didn't get to take the train home, thanks to a freight derailment of toxic materials (!?!) further up the train route. Luckily Denise was writing a history paper of doom that was due that afternoon, so she and her sister offered to drive me back home, albeit much later than my train would've arrived. So I says, sure.
It was pretty nice walking around campus (although I was dead tired) with nothing looming over my head -- not even PACKING, because I'd packed everything before I got the call. And by some weird twist in This Game Called Life, I took a different route back to my dorm after turning in my film paper, and I bumped into Hottttt Bus-Station-Boy-From-Thanksgiving-whoialsometattheradiostationearlier. A delightful surprise, although we still don't know each other's names, and my tiredness and surprise made me somewhat tongue-tied, but he was tongue-tied also, so it was a relative success.
It seems like so long ago. The ride up was pretty fun -- I controlled the music by my any whim and fancy, and trying to find gasoline in Williamsburg at 2 AM is surprisingly hard (sort of like trying to find an open restaurant other than the faux-diner in my hometown past 10 PM). But we found an open station, eventually, and our trip there was a very strange cavalcade of us girls running in and out of the car, wiping windows, running to pay, playing with nozzles, and windshield-wiper-follies.
No 'Zoolander'-esque gasoline fights, though.