Retrospectively, I realized that today I was lost for almost the same amount of time as it takes to watch Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and that's the one where there's time travel, so that's even more time! Put that way, while Harry and Hermione went over their steps twice, I circled the entire Battery Park area looking for a stupid subway.
The day didn't bode well when I got on the wrong train to get to the Poet's House, but I fixed that right away, laughing it off as life experience. Then when I got to my stop, I couldn't find the actual Poet's House, and I kept walking in what I hoped was the proper direction, before I stopped at a Whole Food's to work and get my bearings.
As a side note, it didn't cheer me up that the cashier ignored my inquiries over her day, which I usually don't mind hearing; that there was a bird flying around on the second floor, trapped forever; and that this sassy gay man, who left his stuff near me, returned, ready to bust a cap on me because his food was gone. I had my headphones in and worked when it all went down, so when he started to frantically demand what happened to his lunch, I was slow as molasses to give him a response.
Don't worry. It worked out for him.
So when I went to go find the Poet's House afterwards, I went about in the same way that I went about finding anything recently: walking with mock confidence, staring at the tall buildings like I belonged, and taking sly glances at my iPhone for directions.
I kept making zig-zag shapes, before inevitably following my nose towards the smell of water, because I remembered that the website talked about having a great view of the river.
Man, getting lost was pretty awesome at that point. A good meet cute should've happened then, if only to cheer me up, because I honestly thought that me and the sassy gay man at Whole Foods could've been new New York best friends, if I had just payed attention when the worker came to clean off the counter.
Alas! My Hudson River excursion really was just me taking pictures at the scenery. A lady bug did land on me though, and I took this to be a good sign, at first, but then it started to burr inside my button down, and I yelped, flicking the bug off me for getting too fresh.
I did find the Poet's House, thankfully.
But after staying for a bit (and no, they did not need any requisites to prove that I belonged there), I left a little before rush hour, thinking that I should go home after all of that walking. It was an hour back to Queens anyway, only.
Well, I couldn't find my subway station, and after the debacle that morning, I wanted a more direct route. So I wandered around, my phone clearly out as I ran into the World Trade Center, St. Paul's Chapel, and just some pretty old buildings nearby. I kept crossing and recrossing where I had just been, running into the same construction workers, same police officers, I wondered whether they noticed.
I started to panic, debating worst case scenario (Godzilla-like attack on the city*) to practical scenario (grab next subway station and head for Manhattan. See what happens), when my phone screen turned black and stopped responding. Doomed! I was doomed! Screw the Godzilla-like attack! I was an hour away from anything I knew, and technology failed me!
I walked around, trying to listen to my heart, when I realized that my heart is as crap with directions as I am. I walked around for a while, following the natural ebb of people, before my phone came back to life, and I realized that I had to return the way I came.
I eventually found it, and played off my ease to overcompensate my previous flurrying. I tried to sit down, but the man stopped me, telling me that my wanted seat was wet, and I looked just to see if he was lying or not. He wasn't. So I played it cool, making my way to stand in the middle at the pole.
Only, I guess I did too good of a job, because my train overshot anything I knew entirely. I couldn't check my phone map because I forgot to save the page before I went underground. I couldn't find a subway map on the train, because there were so many people. I tried not to panic as I read the stops we passed, pretending I knew where Steinway was, before I just upped and left at the next one.
I realized that I was on the wrong line entirely. I was in the right direction, but I was no where near home. I had to ask for help, and I even helped another lady find Penn Station, which made me feel a bit better about myself. So I fixed the problem.
This next train had a homeless man stretched over the seats, so I had to stand again and smell him. When a seat did get free, I took two steps towards it before some tourist Barbie slid right in with her boyfriend. Shucks.
So that's how I spent my two-hours and a half, fighting imaginary worries and listening to my heart. Harry and Hermione had it so much better.
*Okay, that might have been extreme, but I want to be prepared for anything.