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Jamaica: Memories of a School from Hell
"Never say never"
Ever since transferring to another school and leaving this hellish place behind, I have had only bad memories of Jamaica. I remembered it as the ugliest place on earth. It was dirty, dark and gloomy with the sky obscured by a metal grid of elevated train tracks. It was earsplittingly noisy, as the trains screeched overhead. Cars honked and fire trucks wailed. The park across the street, encircled by a black iron fence, was off-limits to us. Any kid reported setting foot there was promptly sent to Mrs. Cohen, the teacher in charge of punishments at our school, a red-haired witch whom I visited quite often. Altogether, Jamaica was a menacing place.
Then one day, not so long ago, I went back there. We had flown to NY from Boston, and had several hours to wait before our international flight at JFK. Our bags had been checked straight through, so we were unencumbered and ready for an adventure (or at least I was...). Rather than hang around the airport, I suggested we hop on the Airtrain and get off at the last stop - Jamaica Station. We exited the station and found ourselves on Jamaica Boulevard.
