"Sanderson station will be our next and last stop. Sanderson Station. This train will go out of service at this point. Please ensure you take all your belongings when you exit your car.
I heard the words. But they didn't register. Not in the way they should have.
I turned slightly in my chair. I wish they made them slightly bigger. Drifting in and out of consciousness. Thinking about the drink I was going to make when I got home. Long days do this to me. Should I pick up something to eat on the way? I'm sure I won't want to actually cook anything when I get there. Ordering in is an option too I guess....
"Sir?"
But what do I feel like? We had chicken for lunch at the conference. So not that. Pizza? Nah, that is always my go to. I really should have something different? A burger? Thai? I don't know what I want.
"Sir....?"
What drink am I in the mood for? A beer would be nice, but sometimes those are too filling and I feel bloated afterwards. A whisky sour might go nice. Or maybe a good old gin and tonic. I'll have see what kind of gin I....
"SIR!"
I opened my eyes to see one of staff members of the train hovering over me.
"We are at the last stop and this train is going out of service, sir. You need to exit the car. Please ensure you take all of your belongings with you," he said politely but sternly.
This time the words 'last stop' registered a little more.
What did he mean last stop? My station isn't the last stop. Why is the train stopping in the middle of the line and going out of service? This doesn't make sense?
"Since when does Red Line terminate at Osgoode Place?" I asked.
"Unless there was a mechanical emergency, the Red Line doesn't end there. However you are on the Blue Line and it DOES end at Sanderson," the worker replied with great patience.
"Sanderson? Blue Line?" I looked at him quizzically.
"Yes, sir."
How was I on the Blue Line? How did I end up in Sanderson? This didn't make sense.
"Is there a problem, sir?" His patience seemed to be wearing thin.
A problem? Oh no, there's no problem. Just that I am about 3 hours from where I want to be. In a city I've never been in. Where I don't know a soul. And I'm starving. And I need a drink. No. No problem at all!
"No problem. Just groggy from dozing off on the trip,' I stammered as I picked up my laptop bag. The worker took a step back to allow me to exit my seat. I walked down the aisle, keenly aware that he was following me closely. I can only imagine what he thinks I am.
I stepped off the train on to the unfamiliar platform 2.
Of course all stations are similar so it wasn't that unfamiliar. But I can tell you what lied outside of the station was unfamiliar. One would even say alien.
I walked down the stairs and took the tunnel that went under the tracks, then back up the stairs on the other side. I emerged into a small concourse that had a closed coffee shop and newsstand combo. The ticket booths were dark. There was very little activity in the station. The monitors listed one more arrival to come in about 45 minutes. No departures.
I grabbed a paper train schedule. The last train leaving to go back in the direction I came left a half hour ago. And indeed there was one more train to come in and thats it for the day. I looked at when the trains started up again. 0647 the next morning.
Damn. I think I was stuck in Sanderson for the night.
I walked out of the station into the bright sunshine of the parking lot. I put on my sunglasses to cut the glare and looked around.
The parking lot was mostly empty. There couldn't have been too many on that last train, unless they are all being met.
"Take the last train to Clarksville,
And I'll meet you at the station"
Now isn't the time for songs by The Monkees.
Remembering the schedule, I did some mental math. I wasn't going to make it to work by 0800 tomorrow. It's 2 hours to get to the central station. Then another 45 minutes from there to the one I get off for the 10 minute walk to work. The earliest I'd be there is 0945. Longer if I actually wanted to go home and get a change of clothes.
I pulled out my phone to text my boss:
Hey Jerry. I will be in late tomorrow. Got on the wrong train after the conference and ended up in Sanderson. Don't ask...I'm not sure how it happened. Just wanted to let you know.
I put the phone back in my pocket and looked across the street from the station, spotting a pub. The Sheepshead of Sanderson.
A pub would have food. A pub would have drinks. And that solves 2 of my 3 most immediate problems. And as Meatloaf said, Two out of Three Ain't Bad.
With that, I headed through the parking lot towards the pub.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I fished it out. "You idiot! Piece of advice. Don't go to The Sheepshead. We may never see you again". Thanks Jerry. Now what?
My stomach growled. I looked up and down the street. There didn't seem to be anything else nearby that looked remotely appealing.
Maybe Jerry is wrong about The Sheepshead. He was wrong about The Polemann's Inn where I live. I love that place.
I ran across the street and found myself at the door to The Sheepshead.
"How bad could it be?" I thought to myself as I grasped the handle.
