Dead and gone. 
Taking the train out of the city for the Thanksgiving holidays is a very foreign feel for this westcoast boy. We don't really take trains out of cities. We drive out of them, and in the case of Los Angeles, we don't really TRULY think upon it as a city in the first place. So this all feels SO East Coast in how it sounds to me. And I was thrilled.
But I wanted to take the train to Long Island out of Grand Central Station and not Penn Station. Purely for aesthetic reasons. Grand Central is just, well, prettier. Ron, who was planning on picking me up in Mineola, said it was not possible. Either he had to move or I had to go out of Penn.
Harummf. Penn Station is another folly of urban "development." The original was torn down in 1963 though the tracks remain. A newer, uglier station was built in its place. Here you feel NOTHING akin to the grand departures those Europeans get to feel every day they leave Paris or even Glasgow. This can only be had at Grand Central.
Note to self: Get myself invited to somewhere in Connecticut next year.
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