Too soon, Julie had to go back home again, and Cass and I took the subway downtown, where we window-shopped till we dropped...or until it was time to meet B. Who was a wonderful hostess, and instead of the short visit we'd intended, we found ourselves staying half the night. B. wasn't enthusiastic about our preferred method of getting back across to NJ, but by then, Cass had become an expert on the subway and its underpasses (I've never been able to see any rhyme or reason in the system, but it only took her a few minutes and a metromap to work out how best to travel anywhere in the city at all. The few times we ended up going the wrong way were all down to me, I'm afraid), so we were undaunted, and firm in our decision.
This time, we did manage to find the GW bus station, and got on the bus across to bridge, but at the other end found ourselves stranded on the corner of Bridge Plaza North and Lemoine Avenue, where there should have been taxis waiting. There weren't. We called for a cab, but both taxi company despatchers told us "Sorry, ladies, we have no cars available tonight". I called the desk clerk at the hotel to advise us how to get there, but he couldn't offer any alternative (walking was out of the question according to him, and his suggestion of asking a bus driver to take us up route 4 and drop us at the gas station nearby didn't take into consideration the fact that it had gone midnight and that all busses had stopped going). And so we waited. And waited. And waited some more. Luckily, it was a mild night, and a friendly doorman kept an eye on us so it didn't feel as if we were completely deserted by man and God...We resorted to calling the cab companies once every 15-20 minutes, with increasingly more desperation in our voices until finally, after two and a half hours of begging and cajoling, Cass managed to wrest the promise of a car being sent to pick us up by one of them. Twenty minutes later, we were where we wanted to be, and dropped into our beds, exhausted.