After months of planning, Ed and I finally arrived in New York. Everything seemed to go wrong from the beginning of our journey. First my bag was too heavy but luckily I managed to stuff 3kg worth of junk in Ed's bag. Then going through security I was told that my boarding pass was not valid, so I returned to BA help to sort it out, Ed kept going through security. Eventually I returned to face the ritual humiliation that is an airport security check. An experience made only worse by having to wait to go through the metal detector, having an older woman come ask me why I'm not going through. Me telling her that, as both security guards were feeling up someone at the time, we had to wait. Only for her to nod in agreement and then try and go through anyway, then get pushed back out. After going through that I had completely lost Ed and had no choice but to go to the terminal and hope that he would have enough sense to do the same. He did.
Eventually we got onboard, and Ed, who claimed he could not wait to sit down and watch the inflight entertainment then went through the film options and declared that every film was terrible. As if he was expecting some niche foreign film, with an extremely low budget and shot in black and white so that you know it's artistic. Eventually we landed at JFK airport to the cheers of some American girls. Which leaves one to wonder, had we been crashing to our deaths, would they have booed the whole way down?
Then we purchased some bus tickets to Penn station. It took half an hour of driving on the bus just to get out of the airport. The skyline coming in to Manhattan from Queens to Manhattan is very impressive. Out of nowhere these massive buildings appear on the horizon like giant guards, daring you to try and enter their part of the city. We weren't actually taken to Penn station, maybe the streets are too complicated for a bus to actually get there. Instead we were herded out by an angry New Yorker. He would tell us to follow him and stand somewhere. Then decide that that was a bad location and move us somewhere else. Everytime he got us to move he ordered us with such aggression it felt as though he thought we were idiots for standing in the wrong place. And after leading us in a circle for ten minutes, just deserted us. Then a different guy picked us up in a minivan and dropped us off at the station. From there working out the subway system was tricky, needless to say it's much more complicated than London's tube is, though it's cheaper.
Eventually we arrived on the street we're staying at, but not having written down the number of the house apart from on the internet, I could only guess as to where we were meant to go. Then ringing on the wrong bells until trial and error brought us to the right house.
After getting ourselves sorted out, showered and rid of our bags, we were ready to get out and experience the city. It was a boiling, sweaty day. Just before leaving the house, our hosts gave me an umbrella and warned us about thunderstorms. I can only assume this was a practical joke as I walked down Manhattan being the only idiot carrying an umbrella in the oppressive heat.
Ed and I were wandering around Manhattan, not too far from the Empire State building which would appear in our vision now and then. The phallic imagery doesn't come close to that of London's Gherkin, but it is amusing with that needle on top, a big prick aiming to the sky. We were stopped by a man clearly trying to sell us something and asking us where we were from. In England if anyone tries to stop you most people just walk past and ignore the people trying to stick their hands in your pockets. However, we're on holiday so we stopped for a chat. The man was trying to sell tickets to a comedy event. He starting naming all these celebrities that would be there, Chris Rock, Alec Baldwin, Dave Chappelle. All of them famous, all of them self-important dicks whose comedy I rarely appreciate (Actually Chappelle can be funny I'll admit). Unable to say no himself, Ed says it's my decision, so I say no, not a fan of Chris Rock. So the salesman turns back to Ed and says he can buy the ticket for $10 and I'll go free. I say fine but he's paying the full ten dollars. Ed agrees but has to borrow $5 to pay the man. And so was born our first contentious issue of the trip. As Ed claims he does not owe me anything. I can foresee this small issue blossoming into full-blown resentment during the trip as we tire of each other's company, but for now, I can just about let it go. Then it was time to sort out dinner before our comedy show. I suggested a big mac because we were spending enough money anyway and the budget has to be cut somewhere. Eventually we ended up eating at Sbarro. The lasagne was reminiscent of the soggy, unappetizing pasta that was served in our Uni's refectory.
Then to kill the couple of hours we have before the show, we go looking for a bar. The only one we can find is an Irish pub. 3000 miles from England to the US just to find a genuine replica Irish pub. After a couple of beers we go looking for another bar. All we can find is another Celtic pub. Irish pubs in New York are pretty much exactly the same as all their other bars, except the decorations have a bit more green in them. We're near Times Square, a place which is essentially several massive advertisements that people can walk through. Our third and final bar before the comedy club was found when I randomly turned a corner walking toward Hell's Kitchen where the club was. A third Irish bar. Three Irish bars, five bartenders, only one of them was Irish.
Ed proposes a game for the comedy club. First person to laugh loses. So we arrive with the worst mentality possible. None of the celebrities that the salesman had talked about were there. Not the worst thing in the world. Some of the comedians were just boring and made me think I could pull off a career in standup, others were quite good. I didn't laugh though, couldn't lose the game. Some jokes just didn't translate across to our culture. Punchlines like "what are people betting on the weather" only reminded me of how many Brits were betting on a white Christmas last year. Then it was on to the Lower East Side for drinks.
I was trusting Ed for directions, he had a much better grip on the city than I did so the map was much more useful in his hands. We were walking from Soho. Halfway through the journey I look at the map and point out the place marked Lower East Side, only for Ed to remark that he hadn't noticed that and had just been walking in a generally south-east direction. We got through Chinatown and eventually found the bars.
Pint glasses in America are smaller than British pint glasses. About two-thirds the size. The drinks also don't seem to taste as nice, less fizzy, less flavour, a more bitter taste and they don't serve much ale. I never really liked American beer before, but I have to admit, the Budweiser in a nice, ice-cold bottle is very refreshing. The patrons in the bars were quite friendly, you could talk to the girls without them seeming offended that you dare try to engage them in conversation unlike in London. After about two and half hours of me getting progressively more drunk in the Lower East Side while Ed kept drinking, but stayed sober and kept looking at me with disdain, it was time to go.
Ed's sense of direction finally failed us as we ended up walking the wrong way for quite a while. Even giving false directions to a group we met along the way who asked. Walking is a euphemism for what was actually happening, I was staggering in an increasingly exaggerated way. The combinations of budweisers and jet-lag, which Ed seemed impervious to, had me completely exhausted.
Just before returning home, we met a black guy with two girls standing on a couple of steps going in to the building. (Note that African-American is more politically correct in America, but makes no sense to me as not every black person is American. I'm sorry if the term offends you and I welcome any suggestions). This guy asked me and Ed "would you fuck this girl" pointing to one of the women standing next to him. No matter what we said this man was determined to tell the girl that she was ugly. We said she looked good, he said "these guys have been drinking all day, they're Irish". We had been drinking at least. Then he said "It's dark, you can't see all her nasty scars and this, come here into the light". Finally he said, "Would you want to introduce her to your parents". As I contemplated going home with a scarred and slightly older woman to say to my parents, 'I met this girl on the street after a random guy asked me if I would have sex with her', Ed started asking this man some questions of his own. Like did he have a relationship with this woman. "Don't scare my dick like that" was the shocked response.
Eventually we did make it back to the lovely Soho apartment we had conned our way into via well-connected parents. I generally find it hard to go to sleep first whenever there is someone else sharing a room with me. And I usually wake up first. This night, though, I fell straight asleep.
