While I'm Away

I'm in New York for a few days, and I've been taking notes. What I realize from reading them is that I don't travel well.

At all...


Notes from 7/12
Packed last night. We're only gone for a few days, but we've spent tons of money just getting ready.

Our flight leaves SFO (an hour and a half away) at 7:00am. We got to the airport in plenty of time because I'm a terrorist. The overly-helpful guy at the gate, who doesn't know I'm a terrorist just be looking at me, exhorts us to check in using the kiosk thing. "It won't work," I say, but he just smiles. It doesn't work. He keeps smiling.

The helpful woman at the desk doesn't bat an eye at checking in a terrorist, but complains about the music thumping in the background. Yup, they force me to listen to crappy music on a pink-lit plane and I'm the terrorist.

There are perks to being a terrorist, like the free pre-flight massage. Before I can get my stuff at the end of the security checkpoint, someone needs to touch my butt. And for this, I don't have to pay one extra penny!

We're in the absolutely ass-end of the plane - the spot reserved for terrorists and children. We haven't yet taken off and the woman sitting on the other side of the Pirate has spilt coffee all over herself. I was planning to do that later on in the flight, but now I won't because it'll just look like I'm copying her.

The people on this flight are all smiling and talking like they don't know they're about to die. I do know, but I'm smiling anyway so as not to seem antisocial. I do know, though. I do.

The Pirate writes: The safety video [on Virgin America] tries to be ironic - or at least mocking - with comments about how many people don't already know how a seatbelt works. But I still laugh that it talks seriously about a "water landing." The plane is full of smiling people in denial.

We're going to New York! I'm excited!

Me again: Mid-flight ground check. Yup. Still there, reassuringly far away.

We landed and spent a pleasant 45 minutes in a limo with a driver from Ecuador whose business card said "John," although I doubt that's what his mother calls him. Because of his phenomenal amount of hustle, he'll be picking us up at 4am on Thursday to take us home.

Our room at the hostel is exactly what you'd expect: like a dorm room, only less luxurious.

We left our room in search of food & lotion (which I forgot), and found out that our room is 30 yards from Times Square. For some reason we couldn't fathom, there are banks of green plastic folding chairs facing into Times Square, and the people in them are sitting there, looking at...?

We walked over to Bryant Park, and there are lots of people here in the park talking on their phones as though their houses are too small for privacy, so they have to come here.

On the way, there was a man with a sign that read "Tell me off for $1." I handed him my dollar and told him "I love you and think that you're probably a worthwhile person. I hope things start looking up for you." He smiled in a way that led me to believe my gesture is not uncommon.

The Pirate writes: There's a giant screen set up in the park and people are sitting around as though they expect something to happen on it, but they're carefully not sitting on the grass. Why not? Killer gophers?

When we got to the park, we saw a lady with a full-on beard. A goatee, really, but thick and wiry looking.

I love this scene. It's a mild evening and people are out in the park. Families, friends - it's a scene of community and it makes me happy.