Getting to New York (New York Adventures pt. 1)

I feel I should add something about how long this is taking to write.  I've been home for well over a month and I haven't yet begun to finish this yet.  In some way I want to apologize but I don't know who to if not to myself for not working harder.  The old adage of lying on your death bed and never thinking "I should have worked harder," is not always true.  If your work is part of your life, then yes, you could demand more of it.  Anyway, I hope you enjoy, please comment below.  

“I wandered everywhere, through cities and countries wide. And everywhere I went, the world was on my side.” 
― Roman Payne, Rooftop Soliloquy

When you make plans to travel, the point is to get away from your life.  Not life itself, but the daily trappings that you identify as being "your life."  While deep in the adventure you are well to learn that there is a world outside yourself, a world fortunately outside your imagination.  For if it were halfway conceivable there wouldn't be any reason to leave the confines of your tiny bubble at all.  The adventure should be the adventure, and all pretense of your old self might as well be left at behind.  By leaving all of that behind you'll be able to learn a second important point, that home is not such a bad place after all, that is until you have to go back there again.

I started out deliberately with adventure in mind when I set my foot forward to New York. I imagined that it was a place that could completely consume you whether you let it or not.  The old aphorism about being careful what you wished for comes to mind.  I've never had much luck with that, but in this case it worked for my boon as well my detriment.

The first leg of my journey took me from Asheville to Detroit.  I got to the airport with plenty of time to kill before my flight but I wasn't a hundred percent sure when that would be.  I was confused because throughout the day I had received a barrage of calls and emails informing me in changes to my itinerary.   Apparently, there happened to be some weather systems the prevented the planes to leave on time.  What wasn't so apparent was how late it made me for my connection because by the time I landed in Detroit and retrieved my bag, my flight to New York had already left the ground.  

Not worried, I found an attendant at a desk and told them my problem.  They looked up my information and told me that my flight was re booked for noon the next day.  "Oh, no," I said as I lowered my face into my hands.  "Is there any way I can leave sooner than that?"  I was told to go across the way to another service desk.  When I got there I was told the same thing as before and was promptly handed vouchers for food and lodging.  "Yeah, that's what I understand," I said.  I was shocked and a little heated but there was no way my trip was going to be delayed because of this.  I asked in the best tone of voice I could manage if there was anyway I could get a sooner flight?"  The attendant went to typing away at her keyboard.  "Would you be able to fly into LaGuardia?"  She asked.  "Absolutely," I said.  "I have a flight that's leaving really soon, you'll have to hurry," she said.  She then handed me my new boarding pass and told me where to find the gate.  

I was revealed and happy that I finally found a way to New York, but there was a problem.  I checked the time and the boarding pass.  I had approximately 12 minutes to get to a completely different side of the airport before the doors closed and I miss a second flight.

I cinched my bad close against my body, thanked the attendant and took off.  I began hustling through the airport as fast as I could manage although I was careful to pace myself.  I didn't know exactly how far I would be required to run.  Directions of where I needed to go echoed through my mind.  They made me hyper aware of my surroundings, conscious not to go down the wrong path.  I was constantly checking the passing gate numbers to ensure against that.  Stores and restaurants weren't whizzing like I would have wished but I felt I was making good time.

The moving sidewalks became my new best friends as they propelled me forward, giving me an extra boost.  I didn't use them to give me a breather, I had to keep going so I trudged forward faster than I could have gone alone.  Pain began to creep into my body.  I could feel a cramp swelling up in my stomach and my comically overstuffed bag was putting a strain on my shoulders as it shifted from one side of my body to the other.  More importantly the feeling of doubt and despair began to cloud my thinking, bringing my spirits down.  My body's energy was rapidly being depleted but I didn't give into the pain, I couldn't give into it.  I dug down deep into my final reserves and told myself I had no other option but to charge forward.

I finally made it to the line of gates I needed, but I still had a way's to go.  Ahead, there was another moving sidewalk and I positioned myself to take it but there was a couple several paces ahead that was languidly approaching it.  I gave my legs a burst of energy and cut closely ahead of them.  I needed this more than they did.

I looked around at the gates.  The numbers showed that I was getting close.  I could visualize the gate was right in front of me, all I had to do was get there.  I told my body to stay strong, that it didn't have long to go.  Before long I could see the gate in the distance.  The greatest thing was that there was a small crowd milling about around it.  I had made it!  I had ran all the way here, overcoming my aches before the plane left.  I was overjoyed.  

When I got to the gate attendant I handed them my boarding pass that I had been holding with a death grip.  It was wrinkled and slightly damp in places from my sweating.  I tried to be as honest as I could when he asked me how I was.  "Tired," was all I said with a grin.  I know he didn't hear me because I know that people like that don't care.  It wasn't his job to care, only his job to ask.

Once on the plane I longed for some A/C to cool me down and dry my sweat.  I made a call to my friend Stacey, who was already in New York to let her know about my travel changes and then sat back and relaxed.  I thought about the big city lives the people around me might have.  The man beside me had made a call to cancel his Friday reservation at a restaurant only to schedule another one on Sunday.  I made a sideways glance in his direction.  When he ended the call I was able to see his phone, the number 1 standing in solitude above the key pad.  Clearly he valued making reservations to restaurants more than any other communication, family included.

Such exciting lives they must have.  So electric and riveting, as electric as the lights that illuminated that great city.  When we finally neared the city, I pressed my face against the window, trying to make out features and breadth.  The plane's wing hindered my view and so I had to hold my head at an awkward angle, but I held it there anyway excited to see New York for the first time.  The vastsness of it all impressed me.  It was as if we were going over an endless field of Christmas lights.  I saw if I could make out anything familiar but all I could make out was a perfectly framed rectangle swathed in darkness.  That had to be Central Park, I surmised. 

We landed and I casually walked through the terminal still observing the people around me.  I must have been wide-eyed and amazed about where I was.  I finally made it to New York, living life among the bustle  and chasing after adventure.  It was as if this city was made for people like me, for the spirit I was seeking.  I wanted all of it, every last bit.

I met Stacey close to the exit where we had a satisfying reunion.  It had been a couple of years since we last saw each other, she being from the other end of the Country.   We left, chatting excitedly about our weekly planns as we bused closer toward the heart of the city.  

For those of you that have never been to New York and would someday like to go, get there any way you can.  Whether it is by plane, bus, or train.  The choice yours but know there is only one true option into the city I'd ever recommend, and that is the metro.  The two of us hurtled through the tunnels of the city, the subway car dense with people.  We swayed with every shift in the tracks, reflections of lights danced in the windows as we passed.  We got off at our stop and made our way upstairs.  The heavy humid air thinned slightly as we got closer to the surface.  We went though the turnstiles,  around the crowds of people, heading toward our exit.  Emerging, I was suddenly blinded by the sheer illuminated spectacle around me that was Times Square.  Lights flashed from every vantage point.  Gargantuan billboard's wrapped around skyscrapers were vying for my attention.  Sound; cars honking, people talking, yelling; seemed to mix with light for a distorting sensation.  Even the sidewalks sparkled.

We checked into our hotel and quickly dropped our stuff in our room and left.  I was eager to walk around and cut my teeth on the electricity of the night. I didn't want to waste one moment to comfort.  When you're in Rome you do as the Romans do, and when you're in the city that never sleeps, neither do you.

My first night was so enlightening.  We walked among the myriad of people and became acquainted with the stand-up comedy sales men that seem to be on every corner.  We even made friends with one.  He was pretty funny but we were disappointed to find that he wasn't one of the performers.  

My adrenaline high from traveling and seeing the city was fading just a little, reveling a hunger that could no longer be ignored.  Up until then I was surviving on half cups of soda and peanuts.  We decided that in honor of our first night in New York that it would only be fitting to commemorated it with a slice of New York pizza.

We walked further down 7th Avenue.  There were theaters and bars, and even a Sabarro.  I would think that they would be disgraced in a city with such a prestigious pizza pedigree as New York.  However, if Seattle can have a million Starbucks than New York can have a couple of Sabarros.  What we did find was Ray's Pizza, and what a find that was.  It turned out to be such a delicious slice of pie that hit the spot dead center.  I chose a slice that had a minimal amount of toppings.   The cheese was so scrumptious and the basil added to the character so well.  After I finished, I had to say, "Yeah, now that was New York pizza."

Once our wondering was done we went back to the hotel, content with our first night.  It was still hard to believe that I was in New York.  I parted the curtains, looking out at the bright, crowded view of the back side of a skyscraper.  Yep, I was here alright.  Living it up, living it well.