I set out on foot this morning, with the forecast calling for like four inches of rain across the next 36 hours.

The walking conditions weren’t bad; a mist that never quite required an umbrella.

I had 15 minutes until the 8:43, which meant I had to hustle, but not sprint.

I paused for about 10 seconds to joke with neighbor Tea Party Steve–he’s just right of Attila the Hun, by his own description–and his irritable pit bull.

I got held up crossing Bradhurst at Amsterdam, which cost about 15 seconds.

I tied my show on a curb at Bradhurst and Memorial.

Had I avoided just one of the above, I would’ve made the 8:43.

I navigated the chopped up fallen trees clogging the shoulder on 141 approaching the post office, and hit Broadway just as my watch–set to the exact same time as time.gov–struck 8:40. Three minutes to walk a stretch that doesn’t quite take three minutes.

As my trust in the Timex Iron Man has waned a bit, I checked my cellphone–same spot-on time for like five years running–and got the same 8:40 reading.

Perhaps I lollygagged, it being Monday, us having entertained the eve before (hi Joey and John! Thanks for the dinosaur for Little G!), it being a dour, wet morning.

Either way, that 8:43 came chugging up when I was a good 150 feet from the pathway leading to the overpass. I looked at my Iron Man: 8:42:15.

I saw a man sprinting ahead of me from the Broadway Field parking lot. He had longish hair and an awkward gait that looked as though it had not been used since fall…2007.

“Noooooooohhhhhhh!!!!!!” he yelled like an Indian entering battle against Whitey.

He sprinted up the stairs. I hoped he had the bon homie to make the train and hold the door for his fellow straggler.

He sprinted down the stairs, me 10 stairs behind him. He hit the platform when the train pulled away.

“GOD FUCKING DAMNITTT!!!” he howled. I checked my Timex: 8:42:55.

The 8:43 is my slacker train to begin with, a once-a-week indulgence. The golden rule about the slacker train–don’t miss the damn thing.

I had 33 minutes to kill in Hawthorne, and “limited possibilities” doesn’t quite describe the setting. In terms of sitting down and consuming some sort of product, the lone option for the train area is the Punta Cana restaurant, which serves a Dominican breakfast.

I thought of Town Supervisor Maybury’s hope to turn the miserable old Hawthorne station house into something useable for commuters–a coffee shop, a reading room. My vote? A hot tub time machine.

Over the weekend, I’d urged The Missus to give Punta Cana (the restaurant, not the vacation destination) another chance after our oily first try. We called in our order and were told to arrive in 15. I got there in 15 and the food wasn’t ready.

“There’s Something About Mary” showed on the TV perched where the ceiling hits the wall. A different Farrelly Bros. movie came to mind after watching the two employees stumble through my order.

All told, I was out of there 15 minutes later than planned Saturday night.

If only Metro-North had been similarly late this morning.

Sticking our nose back into the oddly delightful Mount Pleasant: A History of a New York Suburb and Its People, we see that train commuters in Hawthorne in the mid 1800s didn’t have a whole lot of options. Two trains ran each way every day; there was a train out of City Hall at 7:30 a.m. (the early days of reverse-commuting!) that pulled into Hawthorne (then “Unionville”) at 9:27. Next up was a train from City Hall that left at 3:30 p.m. at pulled into Unionville at 5:42.

So, if you missed the 7:30 train, you had to wait eight hours for the next one.

The southbound trains, meanwhile, left Unionville at 8:42 a.m. and 3:56 p.m.

The trains ran on burning wood. They bypassed Valhalla, which was known as Robbins’ Mills and later Kensico.

An 1851 map showed that Unionville consisted of its new train depot, which tripled as a store and post office; a church, a parsonage, school, and some mills.

Throw in Gordo’s and the Punta Cana restaurant, and it’s not much different today.

Pleasantville, meanwhile, was rocking. It had a general store, Hay’s Hotel, the Depot House (now the Iron Horse Grill), a saw mill, a church and a school.

In 1891, a directory of what everybody in Unionville did for work was published. There were 32 farmers, 15 laborers, a pair of milkmen, two gardeners, two blacksmiths, a grocer and a station agent, among others.

Of the 82 “heads of household” in Unionville, there were three NYC commuters. Edward Ledley was a glove manufacturer, William Weed was an “expressman” (not sure what that means), and Ambrose Van Tassell was a customs house official.

We had lamented that the newest entry to Hawthorne’s burgeoning culinary scene (pizza! Chinese! Gordo’s!), the Spanish-Portuguese bistro Punta Cana, offered up a decent but ultimately unspectacular meal to the TJs recently.

Well, readers–including Punta Cana’s proprietor–have come to the tiny eatery’s defense.

To wit:

Raysa writes:

Hi, I am the owner of Punta Cana Restaurant and I appreciated your words… I been open for a month and I’m wondering what you think, if is really GOOD STUFF….. Thanks

Ann writes:

Hi,
Thanks for taking the time to tell us about Punta Cana. Having worked in Hawthorne for several years I had few options for dining outside of the deli and pizza place. I refused to eat at the Chinese place based on its appearance and their consistent inability to get my order right.

At any rate, I was recently able to stop by Punta Cana, lured by their breakfast ad.
I was able to get a special order and it was prepared very well. In addition, when I engaged the owner in conversation she was willing to allow me to sample other menu items. I have had an amazing oatmeal, egg white omelet, authentic Spanish coffee and the moistest, well seasoned chicken imaginable. When simple items are prepared well it speaks to the potential of the establishment. Im glad that Punta Cana is there and I hope the community supports the restaurant. I know I will be back!

Raysa writes (again):

hi, I’m the owner and I’m very sorry to hear about your disappointment on the menu and your wife’s food. we are trying to get better and hopefully you guys can try it back. I am open to any suggestions and feedback.
The restaurant is empty during the afternoon, as well the Pizzeria and many other business. but thank God for those costumers that keep coming back. Maybe your wife wants to try other things,NOT TOO MUCH FAT IN IT. Again I’m very sorry.

P.S. I’m working on the menu

Latina writes:

Punta Cana is the way to go!! I was there yesterday , they had a great lunch special ..the spanish rice was delicious and the oxtail out of this world. Empanadas and Pastelitos a must

Well, consider the TJ clan convinced. We’ll try Punta Cana again this weekend.