Dynargh dhe'n Blogofrob

Friday 20th May 2011

Our last day driving was also the most arduous. Not in terms of distance or time, but because the conditions were dreadful. In Pennsylvania, we rolled along pleasant minor roads, past huge grain silos, through thick forests, alongside Amish pony traps (and a yellow school bus full of Amish kids, all the girls wearing little white lace bonnets). But speeding into New Jersey, it was grim multi-lane interstate the whole way, through thick, unrelenting rain. Spray from the huge trucks meant visibility was limited to only a few feet - but still drivers drove at insane speeds, aggressively tailgating anyone in their way. But we made it into JFK airport in one piece. And there, we bid an emotional farewell to the Ford Escape, its tan leather trim, subtle gold bodywork and Utah license plate. It has taken us 5951 miles across the country, and through 17 states. Goodbye.

It was still raining as we sat in a cab for an hour, listening to the driver squawk Bin Laden conspiracy theories. He dropped us off in Greenwich village, and we sat in a friendly little cafe watching the weather clear up and waiting for Ed and Keira to finish work. And so started a brilliant long weekend in Manhattan, staying with E & K in their apartment. On that first evening, we toured a couple of speakeasy style bars in the East Village. Please Don't Tell is a cosy dark bar, with a ridiculously gimmicky device to get in. You wander into a grotty looking hotdog shop. You shut yourself into the payphone kiosk on one wall, pick up the receiver and press a number (any number). Suddenly, the wall beside you reveals itself to be a hidden door, and you are led into the bar. We also visited Death & Co, a lovely bar, where, when Ed didn't have ID on him, the bouncer asked him to "just show me something that looks like an ID". Odd.

On Friday Ed took us (with Lindsey who had just arrived in town) to watch the Mets play the Dodgers, and we drank beer and ate hotdogs in amazing seats. In the intervals, Mr Mets, a man with a giant baseball for a head, shot t-shirts out of a hand-held cannon. We didn't manage to get any. Into Saturday, and we found ourselves in Brooklyn, drinking all day in the Brooklyn brewery, hipster spotting (there was at least one wannabe at our table, but he was too fat). Ed had suggested from there that we went bowling. My heart sank a bit. As a general rule, I dislike bowling, because I'm rubbish at it. I was surprised - it was a lot of fun. George, typically, excelled at it, scoring easily the most points (to the quiet consternation of our fat wannabe hipster) and between strikes she attempted to teach me how to avoid gutter balls.

Suddenly, it was Sunday. The day that has been creeping up on us for the last 14 weeks. We got up. Packed our bags. Went for a walk through TriBeCa in the sunshine. Had lunch. Said goodbye to Ed and Keira. Got the subway to the "Airtrain". Had an argument with an Airtrain employee after the ticket machine stole $5 (that was just me). Bag drop. Security. Plane. Films. Heathrow. Boring old North West London.

All my photos of an incredible 14 weeks' travelling are neatly set out and categorised here.

Flatiron

160 - posted at 11:37:08
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Comments

Re-reading these blogs make me smile so so much on dreary London days. Amazing. Xxxxxxxxx

1: Gg - 20:52:07 on Thursday 1st March 2012 (permalink)

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