Grand Central Shutdown Forces Stranded CT Commuters to Think (and Move) Quickly

This is an account of five people’s travels out of New York after Tuesday’s Harlem fire shut down Grand Central Terminal. It is similar to what more than hundreds of people experienced that night. The names have been changed for privacy.

Suni had only lived in Connecticut for two weeks, from which he commuted to Manhattan five days a week. This was his twelfth day working at Santander Bank in the East Village.

He bought sour cream and onion flavored popchips in preparation for his Metro North ride home to Stamford, where he would be met by his wife and two dogs Ziggy and Zoe.

He would attempt to leave on the next train when arriving at the station close to 6:30 p.m. He would not reach home until 10:30 p.m.

Grand Central Terminal

The station was a sea of people where the information booth was crashed upon constantly by a tidal wave of frantic commuters, many of whom spoke little English.

“We don’t know,” an employee stationed there told a man inquiring about making his meeting in Poughkeepsie. “I’m still waiting for answers too, but there are no trains leaving the station.”

Due to a tractor trailer explosion beneath elevated tracks, no trains were able to leave Grand Central Terminal on Tuesday night during rush hour, leaving many people stranded in the city with little options to get home.

Some opted to wait around the station for answers, with two teens even taking out their laptops and attempting to finish their homework in the middle of the terminal floor. Others immediately ran for the drink cart.

As Suni waded through the crowd, he could faintly hear a familiar word coming from a stranger’s mouth.

“Did I hear you asking about Stamford?” he asked.

His new acquaintance informed him that there was an Amtrak train leaving Penn Station that was going to Stamford.

Penn Station

The pair arrived at the station after a twenty minute walk, where two cops informed them that the train to Stamford had left and the next would be at 2:45 a.m. the earliest.

“Get a hotel room,” the male officer suggested, to which his female counterpart informed him “That’s more expensive than taking a cab home.”

A man cut in front of them demanding how he could get to Stamford as well. His name was Alex, and he worked as a statistician on Wall Street.

The officers told them a train was leaving in two minutes for Yonkers from which a cab would probably cost $100.

“Split between three people,” the officer figured, “that’s like $35 each.”

The pair became a trio, a theme of the night for many in New York; gathering members to their caravan in order to get back home.

On the train, talks of “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles” and recruiting of more lost souls in search of a way home to offset travel costs remained a hot topic of conversation.

Yonkers

The three were relieved to arrive in Yonkers, comforted at least by the fact that a Stew Leonard’s grocery store was nearby. They shared an uber with three other people, including a married couple from New Canaan, Judy and Jason, who were eager to reach their bed.

“I love this,” Judy said. “People helping each other out, working together.”

Their driver had been all over the Hudson Valley and Fairfield County that night and remarked that he, himself, was exhausted. After forty minutes with sporadic traffic, they all were welcomed by the sight of familiar Stamford landmarks; Bedford Street, the mall, the train station.

Stamford

After pooling together cash to pay the driver, roughly $20 each, they disbanded. No contact information was exchanged, nor would they probably ever see each other again.

It was a rare moment of strangers trusting each other to work towards a common goal. What may have seemed like a simple travel inconvenience was an affirmation that people can be helpful, trusting and work together despite a high stress situation.

Yet the young couple would finally see their bed again, Alex would see his home on the other side of town again, and Suni would see Ziggy and Zoe again.

Written by RJ Scofield