Wearing a yellow spandex body suit, white fake fur coat, and lots of black makeup, I make a decent Lady Gaga impression as we decipher the subway entrance sign at Bergen Street. We both drank healthily at the Halloween party and the subway sign seems to lack information. It says, “Coney Island/The Bronx.” Across the street, another entrance warns “Coney Island” as well.

We do not want to go to Coney Island, we want to go to Manhattan. We pick the closest entrance – the Bronx is roughly in our direction – and go down the steps. We pay the $2.25 to enter, only to see the train we want – labeled “Jamaica” – departing on the opposite track. Realizing that we must exit completely and pay again to get to the other platform, we head back out and enter through the other entrance.

“I don’t know why they can’t make these signs more informative,” I complain.
“Yeah it seems like this is more confusing than it should be,” Eric responds. Naturally, he is dressed as a nun.

Waiting for the train to come, I read the signs around us. One says “Late Night F.” Another says, “Coney Island.” An “M” train comes on our track. I start to become doubtful. I turn to the person sitting next to me. “If I want to go to Manhattan, is this the right side?” I ask.

“No. You want the other side.”

Now we are completely confused. We discuss for a moment. We certainly saw the Jamaica train come on this track from the other platform. However the sign says “Late Night F”… and it is certainly late. As we are discussing, we see the Jamaica train come and go on the other track. “You are going to need to go to the other side,” she says. We exit and re-enter at the other side, paying again.

A train for Coney Island arrives on our side.

“Maybe we should just get on it,” I suggest. “Maybe it will take us to another stop that is less confusing.”

Eric refuses. “We don’t want to go to Coney Island. Our train will come.”

I stop a hipster in his late 20s who looks like he rides a lot of subways. “Does the F for Jamaica come to this platform?” I ask him.
“No.”
“Is it possible the trains are doing some service change or something? It seems like the F is going both directions on both tracks. Do you think that could be happening?”
“No, it goes toward Coney Island on this side, and toward Jamaica on the other side.”

It seems the F is determined to take us to Coney Island. Regardless, we have no choice. We exit yet again, and re-enter through the other side, just to see a train to Coney Island leaving on our new current platform.

At this point I start to cycle into despair. We are never going to get home. We are going to spend the rest of our life being deceived by the cruel tricks of the night train to Coney Island. We have now been wandering the Bergen Street Labyrinth for over an hour and the time is approaching 3am. I mumble to the people sitting near me that the space time continuum has been broken. They stand and move away down the platform. I consider running across the tracks to get to the other side. Eric lists impossible alternatives such as calling a $40 taxi. He refuses to let us escape on the next Coney Island train that departs, or the following. In the meantime, the Jamaica train mocks us repeatedly from the opposite platform, carrying other passengers happily to Manhattan.

Eric breaks the deadlock. “I have an idea. See over there, on the other side, before the entry to the platform, is a booth with a person in it. Let’s exit, and go ask them what to do.” The idea grates my nerves. We have already paid almost $10 each in entrance fees and have not gone anywhere. Nevertheless, I’m starting to wonder if I’ll die here. I don’t have any better ideas. We exit.

As we head down the steps into the other entrance, we do not see the booth we were aiming for. We look around. “There!” I realize, pointing through the entrance gate, across the tracks, at the booth. Somehow the booth is still on the opposite platform, even though we…

And that is when we suddenly understand. We have been using two separate entrances for the same platform. We have not actually ever been on the correct platform. We rush back up the stairs.

There, a half a block down the street, the subway entrance sign says “Manhattan.”