This morning, I journeyed home on the LIRR to spend some quality time (Quality time meaning my mom the hairdresser dying my hair and then shopping with my mom and sis before I allowed my dad to drive me all the way back to Queens later in the day.) with the fam on LI. I waited in the Forest Hills LIRR station and when the train finally arrived, a few minutes late, only one door would open. Everyone was looking around all confused and I ran up to the one open door and got aboard, because even though the rest of the doors would eventually open, I didn't want to risk it. I guess around this point the conductors started noticing a problem and I saw two of them starting to manually open and close the doors. They were actually taking way too long and at this point I thought I might miss my train that I need to transfer to at Jamaica. So, as the large, balding, pale conductor was walking towards me, I asked if the other trains will wait for us at Jamaica if we are late, because I was in serious danger of missing my transfer. "We aren't transferring," he gruffly replied. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT? I checked the schedule the night before and I was sure that I could pick up the Ronkonkoma train in Jamaica eight minutes after my train was scheduled to arrive. At this point I started to panic because I have no idea where this train would take me or how I would get home because when I tried to call my family, no one answered the phone. But then I heard the same conductor announce to the train, "Next stop Jamaica!" WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT? Didn't the same a**hole just rudely tell me that this train wasn't making a transfer at Jamaica? When I spotted him again I thought I'd try to clear up the situation. "Hi," I said. "I just heard the announcement that we are going to Jamaica, but you told me the train wouldn't be stopping there to transfer." "Yes, I made the announcement," he said, "and we aren't connecting with any trains at Jamaica." "But," I tried again, "I checked the schedule and it said I could catch the Ronkonkoma train at Jamaica." He replied rudely saying something along the lines of, "too bad." To this, I shouted out, "Thanks for you help. I'm calling your supervisor!!!!" "Go ahead," the fat, bald moron called back at me, with a stupid smirk on his face and his arms wide open in what I assume was supposed to be a threatening manner. I was flabbergasted (isn't that a fun word?). I couldn't believe this was happening.

When we arrived at Jamaica I ran up to a station manager and asked when the next train to Ronkonkoma was. She replied, "Next on this track." "WHAT?!?!?!," I asked in shocked annoyance. "NEXT ON THIS TRACK!," a very annoyed young man standing behind me shouted back at me.

Anyway, as you can imagine, I was livid at this point and asked not one, but two LIRR workers for the LIRR main phone number, so I could call and complain of course, and wouldn't you know, neither one knew. Lucky for me, a nearby passenger had the number and gave it to me. I called, but unfortunately I must wait until morning to complain, and complain I will. Justice will be served!

LIRR = Completely Incompetent