De-trained by MTA
I was on the train home from Yankee Stadium, still wondering how a reserve outfielder could make not one but two great catches to ruin a certain pie game*, when the woman in the seat in front of me turned around and asked, "Is this stop Tarrytown?"
"Uh, yeah," I said - as it raced by.
About a dozen people grabbed for the conductor cord, but it was too late - we were beyond Philipse Manor before the train stopped.
Consultations ensued. My proposal to rush the engineer's compartment and take matters into our own hands was seconded by a plurality of the car. But as the crowd moved toward the engineer's cabin, the train started moving again.
Northwards.
"We screwed up," said the conductor. "We're going up to Croton, where they'll be a train waiting to take you south. In the meantime - free beer."
Actually, the beer came from a Yankee fan who'd somehow managed to snag a cooler after the game. He tried explaining how he had pulled that off, but even after four Coors Lites, I didn't understand.
We made it eventually. But I still wonder about those catches.
* Pie game: a home game where the Yankees come from behind in the 9th or later inning, a reference to the fact that AJ puts a creme pie in the face of the person who knocks in the winning run. As opposed to a Blown Save by Soriano game, which this one was.
