Acting on the fly

Yesterday was one of those days I knew would be coming. The regular, methodical rhythm of my commuting days was disrupted. A serious snowfall had got me out of work on Monday, and I wasn't prepared for how bad things would be on Tuesday. When I got to the top of the platform there was a double helping of bad news: The train was running late and it was two cars short. As the Canadian air ripped into my bones, I heard somebody behind me mention that the train after the 7:32 started in Merrick, so everybody got seats. Sure enough, when the 7:32 came at nearly 8, it was packed, with people standing in the aisles. I waited for a few more minutes, and the "7:43" was, indeed, empty. It stopped at Freeport and Baldwin and then zoomed in to Penn. In the final tally, I was only 15 minutes late to work. Now I know that I have a viable alternative if I have problems catching the 7:32. I'm getting the hang of this.