Sorry I've not updated in a few days. I know this Blog is all you have to cling onto and it's unfair to deny you your hit, but I've had problems finding wireless internet areas and so forth. I know I'm hardly in Tibet, but there seem to be a shortage. Anyway, we're back on track now, please do read back over the past few days to get a handle on why I'd bothered coming to Vegas in the first place, it all worked out very well. I'm going to add photos as soon as I get sent some.
Up at 4am and to the airport for a tiring and quite boring journey to New York, via a stop over in Dallas. Actually, scrap that, it wasn't boring because it was tremendously exciting to be on my way to The Big Apple, and even mildly entertaining to rush around Dallas' annoying airport looking for my connection, but it's just that it seemed to take so long (most of the day) and I was so desperate to get to my prize. Also, American airline companies are all presently going out of business and have no money at all so you get nothing on the plane. There's not even any food you can buy. So it was just a frustrating and uncomfortable day spent in the air. Never boring.
After landing at JFK we were stuck in the baggage claim for an hour whilst the lazy and uncaring New York baggage handlers hung about with our luggage. We were there so long people started to get heated. It all felt so unfair, being stuck in a windowless room, technically in one the greatest cities in the world, but unable to see or do anything. It's like a kid in Hamley's being stuck in the stairwell.
I got a cab into town. Disappointingly, New York goes not in any way resemble an enormous apple, and indeed bares very little resemblance to any fruit, but to make up for that, as the cab got in range of the Manhattan skyline, it looks so beautiful there was a lump in my throat. This is an image we've seen so many times, has become so engrained in the public consciousness, perhaps even more so in the wake of September 11th, that to see it with your own eyes seems quite unreal.
I got to my hotel in the heart of Greenwich village and had problems paying because my idiot, bastard credit card company are again playing their little joke in not allowing me to use my card despite paying off my balance two weeks ago. Apparently it's for 'risk assessment' or some such utter and incomprehensible nonsense. I'm sure it's illegal. My balance is fine, I've got room on the card, but about £10 available, it's been like that for days and days and it's all because I was late paying my bill once or twice apparently. I'm being told off. They are amazingly skilled at making things hard. You need a credit card abroad, plain and simple. How I loathe them.
So the guy was trying to make my debit card work and it was eventually decided I'd have to pay cash, which I've had to do at all the hotels I've stayed in, plus a massive cash deposit, and I got cross and said I'd been travelling all day and could I at least put my bags in my room and have a sit down? I was as irritable as I've ever been and he could well have kicked me out there and then but was understanding and, probably scared of my intimidating appearance and thinking I knew martial arts, agreed.
I went to the cash machine but they'd only allow me so much so I paid for one night and apologised for being so ratty. He seemed fine. I had a shower and a spruce up and was suddenly happy and relaxed again. I was in New York! I went back down, was extra nice to the man, and then headed out into the evening. There's a French restaurant at the top of the street (West 11th and Sixth) and I sat at the bar having a delicious meal and talking to the attractive barmaid. They just love the fact you're British. She said "Oh my God, do you like The Office? I'm obsessed with it." I went into my best Ricky Gervais impression "Okay, fan. So... That's embarrassing. Oh God. Well...brilliant. Appreciation. Received. So..." And she got all flushed and freaked out. She's a lovely girl called Christina. An actress.
I went for a long walk, headed uptown. I felt giddy with excitement. I found myself at Madison Gardens and standing next to that tall flat building, what's it called? I might start giving tours of New York. From there I walked up Madison (Kirsty MacColl had absolutely no idea in which direction you should walk along Madison) and all the way up to 42nd Street and into Grand Central Station. Let me tell you, I walked into there and a beaming smile spread over my face. The clock. The windows. Really quite stunning, and utterly, insanely romantic of course. Time for a martini I think.
I was sat next to a guy at the bar who also ordered a gin martini and we got talking about The Modern Drunkard, which he was fascinated by. He told me the best drink in town was to be found at an old-school 1930's hotel call The Carlisle, so in a cab I jumped. Infuriatingly, The Carlisle isn't themed on the small market town in Cumbria, but instead has a wonderful interior, not changed a bit since it was built I'd wager, and the drink was especially impressive. Wow, this was living.
I headed right back to Greenwich village, back to the French restaurant. I got chatting to anther bloke and we headed out drinking on 3rd Street, suddenly the best of buddies. Shots. Beers. Cocktails. He eventually staggered off and I decided, perhaps foolishly, that 4am would be an ideal time to explore the New York Subway. I went one stop, realised I was going to probably mess this up, and headed back after waiting an age for a train. To bed and to sleep. I'd always intended New York to be the gentle come-down after the convention. Something tells me that ain't gonna happen.
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