I’m with you. I was not happy about the enormous walk to get my stuff and meet up with my boyfriend. He called once I got my phone and said why don’t I just figure out the train and meet back at our friends place where we were staying. I said (okay, maybe I cried), “No. I need your help. Get to me.” Then a nice doorman saw me crouched over in front of his building and let me lay inside on a couch until he came. It took what felt like an eternity for him to make his way through the crowd to get to me.
It’s taking me much longer to recover from this race than any other marathon.
when I do this again, I might skip the whole family reunion thing and just have my crew meet me elsewhere. or, pretend that my last name begins with the letter A. Getting to the L was bad enough, I feel sorry for the X Y and Z folks.
I was a V. I gave up at D and just told my crew once they made it to the reunion area to find me and that I was in the lobby of 91 Central Park Ave. or whatever that street was. I will forever be grateful to that doorman.