Lack of cash leads to a unique Spring Break NYC train ride

I have a very odd story that happened over spring break.

One day I decided to meet up with Teddy Chao, founder of the Hopkins Film Fest, and a few years my senior. He lives in Brooklyn. Since I live in Larchmont (near Scarsdale, but we hate them too), I would take Metro North into Grand Central - a 38 minute train ride. Since I'm usually late to everything, I arrived at the station just as the train was visible from the edge. But I had a minute to buy a ticket, so everything is OK.

"Round trip to Grand Central, please."

"Ten dollars."

"Fuck." I have two singles in my wallet. I thought I had two twenties.

"Do you take credit cards?"

"No."

"Is there an ATM nearby?"

"No, sorry."

"Sonofa."

I'm about to leave and find an ATM and hopefully make the next train, when the woman at the booth says sweetly, "It's alright. Just ask them to bill you when you get on."

Interesting. I've never heard of this before, and I've rode Metro North for years. But what the hell do I know. I decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and board the train confidently.

Sure enough, she was right. I filled out a bill for $5 that I would have to mail within two weeks of the trip. Disaster was averted, and in no time I was sitting on the 4 on my way to Brooklyn.

Teddy had given me simple directions to his place, but of course I got lost. I stopped and asked a big black man for directions to Cumberland Ave.

"Sure thing, it's." He pauses, and looks me up and down. "You're walking there?"

I managed to get to Teddy's, hung out with him and Mike Jasik (also an Alum). We went out for some drinks and some dinner. Unfortunately, I still had only two singles on me. But each time I mentioned I needed an ATM to pay, Teddy graciously stepped up and covered me. I assured him that paying for me would not make me put out at the end of the night, and we laughed heartily. Little did I know, my "I'm comfortable being heterosexual" joke would find its way back to me in the wee hours that night.

It's midnight before I know it, and since the last train out of Grand Central is at 1:30 a.m., we Westchester folk need to keep an eye on the time. I jet, and get to the subway station at 12:15 a.m. Plenty of time. Hell, I might even make the 12:40 a.m. train.

No dice. NYC subways apparently run out of juice come midnight, and I managed to get the Q back to Times Square well after 12:30 a.m. Then, since it would be too convenient if the shuttle between Times Square and Grand Central was running, I have to take the 7, which seemed to run once every hour. I just barely catch the last Metro North train.

Now comes the crazy part of the story, and it is at this moment that the reader might be considering the potential of the situation, and how danger could have easily been averted had I simply gotten some cash ($3 to be exact). I could make a claim here, and try desperately and pathetically to persuade the reader that this was a reasonable situation I was in - I didn't need to spend money, therefore I didn't get money. Plus, anticipating it wouldn't take anywhere near an hour and change to get from Brooklyn to midtown, I figured I'd have plenty of time to get cash at Grand Central. But yes, I'm also an idiot.

I'm running on the platform, and through my headphones I can make out the pleasant voice over the loudspeaker:

"Please either get on a train or leave the station. Grand Central is closing in 5 minutes. Thank you."

I pass a guy just before I board, and, thinking he said something to me, I pause to take off my headphones and glance at him.

"What's that?"

He shakes his head no, he didn't say anything. I continue to board the train and find a five-seater opening that I collapse into. In the back of my head I'm thinking the whole time, "I'm an idiot for not getting cash, but hey, they billed me once, they'll do it again. Shouldn't be a problem."

A minute later the same guy from the platform boards with his friend. He spots me, and gesturing towards the five-seater, tells his friend he's going to sit next to me. And I think nothing of it.

He sits across from me. I'm preoccupied with my money situation, so I don't make much eye-contact with him. He is in his mid-30's, Indian, and balding. Then the train starts moving.

"Where are you going?"

"Larchmont. You?"

"Greenwich."

I can't have a stranger asking me questions without me getting information about him. For some reason the balance of knowledge makes things less strange.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, you?"

"No."

So we're two single men.

"Where do you live?"

"Larchmont."

"Where do you work?"

"I don't work. I'm a student." Can't let this be too one-sided. "What do you do?"

"I am a teacher of English for people who come from other countries."

A long pause.

He asks, "Where did you grow up?"

"New York."

"Where do you go to school?"

"Baltimore."

"Where do you live?"

"Larchmont."

"Where are you going?"

Are we in the Twilight Zone? The questions are a little peculiar, but no worries. The guy seemed like he just wanted to start a conversation and was very awkward about it. After all, he had a thick accent and had some trouble speaking English, so maybe it was just a language barrier that was making the conversation seem odd.

Then, the inevitable: "Tickets please."

"Hey, listen, can you bill me," I say calmly. "I only have $2."

"Bill you? What do you mean bill you?" I guess they don't bill too often.

"I don't have enough." But then I slipped, and gave away my position. I said what I shouldn't have said, thinking it would convince him. "I was billed on the way up."

"Whoa. This isn't for your convenience," he says sharply. "Billing is for emergencies only." He looks me over and snarls. "I'll be right back."

Now I'm starting to worry. I nod my head back and stare out the window. All I can think about is how I'm going to get to Larchmont, why I didn't get to an ATM, why I had to tell him I was billed instead of just pleading .

"Do you want a drink?" the balding Indian guy asks, innocently enough.

"No I don't want a drink."

"I will buy you a drink. Let's go to a bar and I will buy you a drink."

"No. I really don't need a drink right now." He was persistent, like he didn't have many friends.

"No need. I buy. You want a drink, I will buy you a drink. We go to a bar?"

"I don't need a drink, I don't want a drink. I just need to get to Larchmont and go home."

"Where are you going?"

Now the guy's starting to get annoying. Did we not just go through this?

"Look, I'm going to Larchmont, I grew up in New York, I go to school in Baltimore. I don't want you to buy me a drink, I just need to get home."

"What's the problem?" Suddenly a new voice.

"I only have two dollars. I need to get to Larchmont. Can you please just give me a bill?"

The conductor had brought back another guy. He's not as nice.

"You were in the city all day and you couldn't get to one of the thousands of ATMs?" He looks at me with disgust. "You have $2?" he asks angrily. "$2 will get you to Mount Vernon."

I tried to invoke the "Big Lebowski" phrase. "Man, I'm not trying to scam anyone, man. I ride Metro North all the time. I just messed up today."

"Mount Vernon. $2."

I give in, grudgingly.

He gives me my receipt. Then he leans in close, and raises his finger. "You get the hell off at Mount Vernon." And they're gone.

I'm a mess. I'm convinced I've turned into a bum. A vagrant. Sure, I'm unemployed, but whatever. It's 2 a.m., I feel horrible, and I'm calculating what my next moves will be. Call my parents collect, and hope they won't be too upset picking me up. Hope I don't get mugged when I'm standing around.

I guess the Indian guy could see it on my face.

"Do you want to drink? I buy you a drink."

Christ. Will this guy ever figure it out? I don't want to drink I just need . Hmmm.

"How 'bout you just give me $3 so I can pay my way to Larchmont." I go to Hopkins. I'm no dummy.

He thinks it over and agrees. He wants to help.

He reaches into his pants pocket and produces, not a wallet, but three credit cards. "I usually pay credit everywhere I go." He reaches into his coat pocket and finds two crumpled up ones and some change. This seems to be his only remaining cash. Odd for a guy who's offering to buy drinks.

"Thanks." And I venture off to try to find the conductor. I can't, and find my way back to my seat. I decide to hedge my bets and stay on until Larchmont and pay if the conductor passes by. As I sit down I notice the Indian guy's friend who he came on with, sitting five rows away.

"Is that your friend?"

"Yes."

"Why is he sitting back there?"

"Oh. You know." He shrugs.

"No, I don't get it. If he's your friend why aren't you sitting together?"

"He sits back there."

Yeah, I bet your students love asking questions in class. This guy was getting odder by the minute, but I should have seen it coming.

"You have big hands."

It finally dawned on me. I had preoccupied the whole time with the ticket, that I hadn't been able to read him.

"You have big feet too."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Is it true what they say? You know, about big feet?"

"WHAT?"

"Come on, you know, how big is your, you know. Is it true?" He gestures a measurement with his hands. "This big? Or this big?"

"Whatever." Christ, I gotta get out of here.

"So, where are you going?" His voice is a little quicker, a little more desperate.

Oh no, not this again. This guy had the childish awkwardness of a teenager trying to flirt. He was hitting on me!

"What is your phone number? I call you, I want to contact you, how do I contact you?" He knows he hasn't much time.

"I don't have a phone."

"Next stop Larchmont. Larchmont, next," over the loudspeaker.

I hand the guy his two crumpled singles and four quarters back, hoping he wouldn't think I owed him something. Thankfully, the conductor never booted me.

I shake the guy's hand. "Nice meeting you. Take it easy.