On its side, a mustard-colored cursive stroke spelled out “Sands.” A woman yelled in Chinese at the ticket-seller, as he tried to soothe her in English. There is no sign, and if you don’t know where to look, there appears to be no one selling tickets.īut that night, as I ran into the food court, I passed an irritated crowd of more than sixty people waiting on the street next to a bus with tinted windows. Next to the mall, private buses leave six times a day for Sands Casino in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. One evening, as I ducked inside Queens Crossing Mall to escape a sudden downpour, I found myself in the middle of a way station to places I had never been. Yet, as night approaches, not everyone is homeward-bound. Livery cab drivers and Korean church vans idle alongside SUVs and other sedans at the traffic lights. Meanwhile, upon exiting the station, all along Main Street, small signs advertise express buses to Woodbury Commons and other tri-state area malls. The number of public bus routes coiled around Main Street attest to this, as more than 15 different routes have stops within a one-block radius of the subway entrance. The Flushing Main Street stop may be the end of the line for the 7 train, but for some, the stop is just a layover towards a final destination.

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