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Any space. Office works as well as home.
Penn Station, which is the train station under Madison Square Garden, is across the street from my office. So I wandered around Penn Station, looking for the wine store to note its location for the next time I go to the Astoria supper club after work.
Ah, there it is. Now what?
I saw a map and some schedules. What is this Long Island Railroad anyway? I'll read these maps and schedules. Maybe I'll learn something.
I like maps.
There's a schedule for the Airtrain.
I'd never considered taking the Airtrain from Penn Station. I've only been in my current office for a year and from other locations in Manhattan or Jersey City, there are a half-dozen convenient, cheaper ways to get to the airport.
Hmmm. Shannon could go on this train to Jamaica, then get on the airport monorail there. Looks like it takes 10-20 minutes less—at least—than the A-train to the Rockaways.
I bought him a ticket. When he showed up at my office, he asked "What's the best way to get to the airport now?"
"Don't worry about it. I've got it covered. Here, check your e-mail before we leave."
"Fine. Less for me to think about."
We've known each other a long time.
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The train was clean, modern, easy, had a seat, and whisked him to the airport in style.
I never saw the point of the Airtrain before. The subway goes to the same place and has better connections. But now I got it. Fast. Easy. You could fall asleep on that thing.
I got it so much, in fact, that when Thanos flew in a few days later, I instructed him to come straight to my office.
On the Airtrain.
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