Following our sumptuous stay at The Madison Hotel, David and I had to head back to the city. But not before Lynda and Marilyn treated us to breakfast, in appreciation for our coming to the party, not to mention that this January 10 marked our third wedding anniversary.
We had a lovely breakfast, and visit, at a local diner, but the real highlight of the morning was when we were taken to Convent Station, near The College Of Saint Elizabeth, where we were to get our train back to New York!
Lynda drove us through the college, and it was so exciting, I am telling you, I got spiritual palpitations. I expected to see a vision, I wanted to enroll, I wanted to joy the nuns for 4AM morning prayers, and sleep on a wood bed in a cell with just a cross above the bed. Not to mention prostrate my body for hours on the stone church floor, as penitence.
Because, darlings, this is what REAL nuns do! But the trip came with disillusion. I did see a nun, but she was not a REAL nun. She was an actual nun. The difference is her habit barely came over her shoulders, and it showed her hair. Her dress was below the knee, but you could see legs. REAL nuns completely cover their bodies. And they do not get into cars, and drive off!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I mean, this is too much.
Then, I saw a former nun, a white haired woman, getting out of a car. While she looked like a Beans n' Franks Lesbian, she had that scowling former nun look that told me she had once been in the convent. I wonder what her story was!
In conclusion, we proceeded to Convent Station, to await the coming of our train. As David and I sat in the back, I was shocked to discover that Convent Station is not some heavenly oasis ib the midst of Jersey, but a local, Catholic pick up joint, where elderly male Catholic trolls come by, and pick up women!!!!!!!!! I mean, the nerve! One of these gents, spotting us all sitting in the car, walked up to the passenger front side, banged on the door, asking Marilyn, "Are you Eileen?" Another was on the prowl, until some woman in a car drove up, and he got in. The Station has an indoors, so who knows how many "brief encounters" take place here?
I mean, what is this? Is there a local nursing home near by? Are these guys on the lam? If so, the kitchen help needs to start slipping salt peter into these guys' nightly mashed potatoes.
We made it back to the city, no worse for wear. Our travels, while enjoyable, have ended, for the time being.
But to have my illusions shattered at Convent Station!
How can I possibly recover??????????????????
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