April 8, 2008 **

Tarrytown, New York.
Tammy and I attended a yoga class at the local YMCA, then had a wonderful lunch at a Mexican food restaurant.  They had vegetarian chili that was so wonderful, you had to really wonder if they didn't sneak some meat into it!  After an ice cream cone for dessert, we walked all around Tarrytown.  It is about twenty-five miles from NY City, and you would never know it.  Just another small town with friendly people.  

In the evening, we listened to a web special with Oprah and Eckhart Tolle talking about his book, _The New Earth_.  Yes, there is that book again.  Then Tammy and I talked for awhile, and it was time to call another taxi.  We dragged the suitcase back down the stairs, and off I went.

I took an elevator up to the second floor of the train station and asked someone up there about the train.  He told me I had to cross over to the other side.  Honestly, if you don't know these things, there are no signs or anything.  It's all very confusing.  

On the top floor, there were tracks on either side, and I still didn't know where to go.  There was a policeman up there, so I asked him.  He said I could wait inside the glassed in building over here or the one over there.  The buildings were heated.  I started walking toward the other one, and there was a bench halfway between them.  

A man sat on the bench and I just stood there.  While I was watching, he had something in his hand that looked like a small black gun.  He reached into his pocket for something and it looked like he was putting bullets into the gun.  He knew I was standing there.  I turned around and went on the other side of the building and stood with these young people who were also waiting for the train.

This was one of those moral dilemmas.  What to do?  It is night and I have poor night vision.  For all I know it wasn't a gun, but a pair of gloves or something.  If I told the policeman, "I think that guy has a gun," and it's really a glove . . . the guy would be pretty angry, and the policeman probably wouldn't be too happy, either.  If I don't say anything, and he holds up everyone on the train . . . and perhaps kills them . . . oh, my, what to do.

I stood with the young people on the other side of the building, and hoped for the best.  When the train came, I sat close to the conductor who was behind a door, and just waited.  I don't know what happened to the guy or the black thing in his hand, but I never saw him again.  I imagine I made the right choice.

I arrived at Grand Central Station at one in the morning.  Not a great time to be there, but oh, well.  I had to take a taxi to Port Authority where the bus was.  It was a five dollar cab ride, and the driver was angry that I didn't give him ten dollars.  It was like India all over again, but in India the people are much nicer!  And I felt safe in India!  This was one scary night!

At Port Authority, I got my ticket . . . which I was worried about because it was so late, and I had read somewhere that they were closed at that hour for bus tickets.  Then I had to go downstairs.  I asked the guy about an elevator, but I would have had to go back outside, and I wasn't about to do that.  I was safe inside, and I wasn't going to push my luck!  I dragged the suitcase down the stairs.  A couple people offered to help, but I was only a few steps from the bottom when they saw me.

Then I had to wait over two hours for the bus.  There was nowhere to sit.  I said to myself . . . you have sat on the streets of India . . . you can sit on the floor in Port Authority in New York City, so that is what I did!  I read and watched people and thought about my experiences so far.  Then the bus came.

I slept a little bit, but it was kind of difficult.