Adventures in Elizabeth and Newark New Jersey

A couple of weeks ago, my wife purchased her new vehicle, and arranged to sell her old one to her brother. He lives in Eastern Europe, and its hard to buy cars over there, unless you can come up with some hard to find cash. After much research, we found a shipping company in Elizabeth, NJ that could get the job done. I had wanted to go through the port at Baltimore, since that's closer to our residence in the D.C. area, but they wanted an extra $1,000. Due to being on a tight budget, it made sense to drive another hour and a half to New Jersey. I wasn't thrilled about the prospects, as while the Garden State does have diners and Cape May, it also has Camden, Jersey City, and a heckuva lot of crime.

The drive up wasn't that bad, as I left at 5 a.m. on a Saturday. I was pleased, as I stopped at a rest stop for a cup of coffee, and thinking there wasn't much to worry about at all. The GPS portable unit that I brought, reassuringly told me with a British female's voice to "turn right, turn left, watch out for that pothole" at the right times. As soon as I entered New Jersey, the nightmare started to grow at a clip that could best be described as light speed. Upon entering the friendly confines of the state, the drivers became much more aggressive, and I played a game of "80 mph" chess on the Turnpike. My palms were sweating profusely, and there was a bit of a "pucker factor" as I finally arrived at my destination.

Have you ever seen the movie "The Running Man", based on Stephen King's novel? If you have, then that's what the town of Elizabeth looks like. There were guard dogs behind high chain link fences, ripped up roads, spray painted buildings, and hundreds of abandoned cars on the side of a hill. The place I was dropping the car off assured me had twenty four hour service, yet no one was at the gate except for a CCTV camera. After looking around at my surroundings, with a feeling of dread, a truck pulled up next to me. After a few minutes, he started to honk his horn, and a tired man finally came out of his shack to greet us.

Thankfully, he was a kind enough of a fellow, who had been working some long hours. The paperwork process and trading in the title was easy enough, and he asked me if I could get him a cup of coffee. As he brought out his wallet, I told him "I'd take care of it," and walked to the diner across the street. As the winds kicked up, I looked at the diner, and it was a dilapidated old building that looked like it had been built prior to WWII. As someone who knows not to judge a book by its cover, I walked in with a bit of trepidation. The door closed behind me, and everyone just stared. It was if they all knew "I wasn't from around here."

There was an older gentleman at the counter, who finally said "Can I help you?" I asked for a cup of coffee, and once again the diner completely stopped, as my Virginia accent was quite obvious. The pancakes and bacon slathered away on the grill, and I gave the guy $5 for a $1.50 coffee, and got the hell out of dodge. It was almost a northern version of "Deliverance", as I was waiting for the equivalent New Jersey mountain man to make me "get up in them woods." Shaken, I brought the cup of coffee, and arranged for a taxi cab to take me to Newark Airport, which is just a mile away.

$20!!!!!! That was what the cab fare was, but I was in no mood to argue. Thankfully the cab arrived in under five minutes, and as I got in, I felt like I was in the back of a police squad car. The guy had a bulletproof partition dividing the front seat from the passenger compartment! I looked at him and said "It must get rough up here." He laughed, and lowered it with a switch. He told me that there was a lot of crime, hence the reason for the bulletproof glass with the little hole to exchange money, that was no where near the driver. He got me to the airport quickly, and I finally made my way onto the AirTrain.

This is Newark Airport's monorail, that brings you from terminal A to C. The passenger area was so jam packed, that I barely had room to stand. All of a sudden from my backpack, a voice said "At the next available interesection, make a u-turn. You are going the wrong way." The other passengers stared at me, and I just laughed, and pulled the GPS unit out of my backpack. Thankfully, they all got a chuckle from it, and it was then that I realized that I had five hours to kill before my Amtrak train would be leaving this God forsaken place.

Thankfully, the airport had plenty of restaurants to choose from. A Chili's was there! Finally, some good news, and I settled down for one of their "Big Mouth Burgers" with a fine cocktail drink. It was fun to "people watch" from the seat that looks out on the terminal, and I noticed that there were a lot of police patrols with rather angry looking German Shepherds. After a quick meal, I sat at the Amtrak station, and waited for my train to arrive. There are some interesting characters at Amtrak Stations apparently, so I decided to ignore them by putting a newspaper in front of me. You know its bad when you actually read the obituary section just to be left alone.

The train ride back was uneventful, other than sharing a seat with a lady that seemed as if she was going to be in that very section of the newspaper. I felt compelled to check on her welfare a couple of times, and even offered her a snack from the train. Union Station in Washington D.C. was a welcome sight, as I was exhausted and just wanted to get home. You'd think that going from DC to the VA suburbs wouldn't be a hassle, especially after taking a train that only took three hours to go quite a distance. Instead, I got stuck waiting for twenty minutes for a metro train to arrive, and then had to switch stations. Another fifteen minute delay waiting for the orange line one to show up.

This train was jam packed, and I had to stand for most of the journey, trying not to doze off. Finally, once I thought I caught a lucky break, and found an empty seat. This was a short lived respite, as a rather unusual person sat next to me. I didn't have the newspaper anymore, and was forced to listen to various conspiracy theories for the next half hour. How many times can you nod your head in agreement, say "uh huh", just to get a person to leave you alone? Arguing the person's nonsense will make the trap even worse, and when he left to get off at his station, I felt relieved. Then there was a delay due to construction.

Home is where the heart is. When my wife picked me up, and brought me home, it was the best way to end a day of disasters and seeing what some have to deal with on a daily basis. In a way, it made me more appreciative, even though we are struggling on so many levels. Would I recommend going to Elizabeth NJ to see how it could be? Nope, but if you have to go there, just get in and get out. That's sound advice for a guy who saw enough of planes, trains, and automobiles, along with a host of other oddities for a day.