Thursday July 19th and Friday July 20th

Greyhound Bus

Riding a bus, especially for twenty hours, is awkward. You suddenly become trapped in the lives of fifty people. You learn things about them without even talking to them. You know they like to blast Beyonce on their Discman and sing along as loud as they can. You learn they tell their children to shut the fuck up only later to tuck a blanket around them with all the love in the world. You also learn that driving a bus must be the most miserable existence and the drivers and bus station clerks seem to hate their lives.

I managed three house of sleep, all coming in the early morning. I watched countless towns pass by in the night while listening to Interpol, Joanna Newsom, Andrew Bird, Sufjan Stevens and This Story on my MP3 player.

We arrived in Pittsburgh around three in the morning. I loved the architecture of the city. Some of the buildings were oppressive structures meant to be featured in sci-fi noir film. Mixed with the many rusting bridges, the city contains a hopelessness that is both troublesome and captivating.

Philadelphia came three hours later than it should have. We had to make an unscheduled transfer due to mechanical issues on our bus. Riding a bus is confusing. You don't always know where you are supposed to be waiting in a bus station. Sometimes destinations are listed, other times there are just numbers and letters and you hope you are standing in the right line. Greyhound employees aren't very helpful either. They usually don't know themselves what is going on, and it they do, they look at you like you are pathetic because you don't comprehend the system.

Finally, after another two hours, around 3:30 in the afternoon, we saw the New York skyline.

The Subway

New York City is underwhelming. I expected massive crowds and traffic in a constant state of gridlock. Instead I feel like I'm in some version of downtown Indianapolis that is just a touch busier and never ends. And has an amazing transportation system. And things worth taking the time to stop and look at.

Our first experience on the subway was extremely easy thanks to Miranda's navigation ability. The cars were packed, but not uncomfortable, though many times I felt like I would be thrown from one end of the train to the other while standing, holding onto the bars with all my strength.

Later on we rode the subway to Greenwich Village where we met This Story at the Yippie Museum. Again, no difficulties.

Around midnight, on our way back, we saw out first subway rats. They were kind of cute.


The Continental

Our hostel is on the upper west side, located on 95th street and West End. It's seven stories tall and we're up on the top floor. Checking in was a pain as I messed up filling out the travelers checks and they would not take them. I ended up having to take an additional 300 dollars out of my checking account and paying in cash, putting the checks away to refund when I return to Indianapolis.

The room itself is about 10 feet by 8 feet. Chipped paint and black marks decorate the white walls. There is a floor to ceiling cabinet on one side of the room and bunk beds on the other. A rickety dresser sits in one corner, the shelves collapsing on in on each other. On top is a large TV that doesn't work, picking up only a few stations despite being hooked up to cable. The stations it picks up fade in and out. An air conditioner is installed in the wall. It works, but emits a vicious growl every five minutes. The bathroom is down the hall. Thankfully everything works in there.

The free wireless internet is on the first floor and costs 10 dollars a day. In the basement is a computer lab with cheaper access — ten cents a minute. There is also a game room and a lounge.


Harry Potter

To close out our first day in New York we found a Barnes and Noble near the hostel. A line full of wizards and witches stretched from the entrance all the way around the block, beginning just feet from the entrance of the store. Every few seconds some one would step from the door, the book raised triumphantly in the air or clutched securely to their chest. Sometimes they would exit the bookstore with a joyous screech. Sometimes it was with the largest smile they've ever produced in their life.


Saturday, July 21st

Central Park

The second day was spent touring the city with This Story. Miranda and I ventured out in the morning to Central Park. I usually hate the outdoors, but I fell in love with the park. I was amazed at how quiet and peaceful it was. And how it never seemed to end. I was on a mission to find Strawberry Fields, but it was a mission I'll have to continue later. We found the small castle and the Shakespeare garden. Eventually we found an exit and ventured into the city.

Finally the New York I expected showed itself. I wanted to see 30 Rockefeller Center for the simple fact I love Tina Fey and her show 30 Rock. To get there we finally had to fight through New York crowds, but even those crowds fizzled out before long and we were back to walking at a leisurely pace. We didn't see anything amazing once we left Central Park, at least not until we met up with the band. But it was fun walking through the city, looking at the buildings and the street venders.

The Hostel

There is a reason this hostel only costs about 30 bucks a night. In the morning I went down to get a towel. With a thick Russian accent, the clerk responded, We do not have any clean towels.

You don’t have any clean towels? I asked.

She picked up a walkie-talkie and radioed someone, and a few seconds later there were clean towels.

When we returned around one that night, Miranda went to the lounge and I went to the room. I closed the door. When I tried to open the door, I was locked inside. I called Miranda and she came to the room, unlocking the door and freeing me. She went downstairs and returned with a security guard who tried to fix the door, locking himself in the room in the process. After Miranda freed us again, he suggested fixing the door so it wouldn't lock at all. We rejected that solution and soon a manager was in the room. After struggling with the door, he finally fixed the lock so we could get both in and out of the room.

With that resolved we finally went to bed and fell into deep sleeps.

Oh, by the way. Check out The Bones of Davy Jones. He performed at the Knitting Factory tonight and will be in Indianapolis and Muncie in August.

Sunday, July 22nd

On My Own

After driving each other nuts ever since we got into the city, Miranda and I split up to explore New York on our own and to save ourselves from killing each other.

I returned to Central Park, hunting for Strawberry Fields. I ended up walking the outskirts, finding 72nd street and the Dakota. I walked by the entrance where John Lennon was shot, and then moved across the street and took pictures. It was a very sad experience. When I was 15 all I listened to was the Beatles. Lennon was my favorite and I read everything I could about him. I was surprised what a depressing experience it was being there. I didn't expect it to be a jolly good time, but I also didn't expect being verge of tears after thinking about what happened there. And I felt bad for taking pictures, as if I trivialized Lennon's life and death.

From there I crossed back over to Central Park and easily found Strawberry Fields.

The rest of the day was spent walking the streets. I found the Ed Sullivan Theater and returned to 30 Rock, visiting the NBC Store. I wanted to buy all The Office merchandise but escaped without spending a penny. Today, anyway. I feel a Dwight Schrute bobblehead is in my future.

I stopped by the NBA Store and was disappointed in their small selection of WNBA merchandise. I also found about five blocks of 7th Avenue blocked off and filled with street vendors of all sorts.

It wasn't a particularly exciting day, but it was satisfactory.

I love this city.

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