the prisoner of the port authority

i'm a prisoner of the port authority. when i drive a bus there... and when haven't i? every day since i've begun being a regular driver, i've driven into nyc. and i am not even familiar with new york. i'm inexperienced. i just barely know what the five boroughs are and where to find central park. but being a man dressed in blue, wearing a tie and looking official with a leather holstered ticket puncher and ungainly company cell phone hanging from my waist, i must look official, like a sherriff's deputy in a small town, but a very large town this is, and as such a representative of the port authority, i've become information desk, tour guide and man to turn to when in distress. the other day, i was helping a couple off the bus, in new york their first time fvrom the midwest and they ask me how far times square is... what can i say? i guessed, not much farther than a couple of blocks i say, to be corrected by the next commuter off the bus, ' at least five or six blocks...' i let it go, i don't know and ironically i am being sent down there every day. how do i get to a d train? a blonde man with a heavy austrian accent asks me where do i go to go to airport? do you know? i simply look at him and respond, 'no,' because i don't know. i am the tourist here too. the only answer that i've felt qualified to answer has been, where can i throw this garbage? oh, right down there, turn right and walk thirty steps and you'll find the silver basket on the corner by by the information booth. you can't miss it. i learn by rote memorisation. go past the fish market with the sign in bright red block capital letters and turn left at the little diner on the corner with the fluorescents that i want to eat at one day. the port authority is m own little maze between 9th and 10th avenues and 40th to 42nd street, i think those are the addresses at least. at any momeent in the port authority i can be found haunting the edges of any hudson news looking for an overpriced cold drink or searching for more than the only two known men's rooms in all of the port authority. i drop off passengers refreshed from their two hour bus ride nap and walk, red eyed at 7am, 8am in the morning to find out that the dispatcher wants me to drop a bus off on the wash line in hoboken, new jersey and pick up another two at the garage, shuffle around the busses because the one that i've been told to bring back is in the back of the lot and get it back and take this one over to the hotel in secaucus. and when i get back i get a half hour off from the next set of errands. have fun and don't get lost. 30 minutes. a prisoner in the port authority. in thirty minutes i have time to open my lunch bag and get a sandwich out and walk out of the building and two blocks and then get back. a prisoner. one of these days i'll walk to the empire state building. i know that i can. i can see it. i can just see it around the confines of the port.