New York, New York: Travel

I have a question, and even though it is redundant and everyone has heard it I am gonna ask it anyway. Why even make reservations anymore?

I bring this up because of the waiting I had to do for both my plane ride to New York and back to Nashville. I have heard and was well aware of the fact that planes are often delayed and do not get to their destination on time, but it doesn’t change the fact that it griped by ass. Why do they tell you to get to the airport an hour before your flight when it is undoubtedly going to take off at least 30 minutes after it is scheduled to? The same goes for doctors. Why even make an appointment for 2:00 when both you and the doctor know that you don’t have a chance of actually seeing him/her until around 3:15? I say that we adopt a new timetable for situations like this. It’s called “The Ish System.” Instead of an appointment at 2:00, we can say that you have an appointment around 2:00ish. Instead of saying your plane is departing at 8:00 am, we can say that the plane will depart at around 8:00 am…ish. Then if they leave without you it would be legal for you to sue them. This would really chafe their ass.

I understand that plane delays are often caused by weather and other elements out of the control of the airlines, but what if you (the customer) have such a similar incident? You are held up by a mudslide and will make it to your plane an hour late. Will they wait for you? Probably not. This is the two-sided system that we face.

Okay, so with that off my chest I can get back to the actual New York trip. The primary mode of transportation that I used while in NYC was the good old-fashioned ability of self-mobilization (or walking if you want to take the romance out of it). I walked many blocks in the four days that I was there, and as an outcome have ruined two good pairs of tight jeans by flexing my, now bulging, calves and ripping them at the seams. It was not only the cheapest way to get around, but also the most convenient when it came to the sight seeing thing. I did take the subway down to Greenwich Village and a cab back to the airport, thus taking advantage of the three main modes of transportation available in NYC.

The difference between traveling in NYC and traveling in Tennessee is the ratio of distance to shit to do. What I mean by this is that walking a mile in NYC is not as bad as it is in Tennessee because there is so much shit going on that you don’t really notice that you have walked a mile. Whereas, in TN you know when you have walked a mile because you are pretty much focused on your destination, since your destination is more than likely vastly more interesting that whatever else is going on around you. Also, most places in TN are in a kind of limbo stasis of relevance. What this implies is when I say that I live in Paris I usually have to follow that up with a relative distance from a major city like Jackson or Clarksville. The people that live in these limbo towns often have to travel to these cities to find viable, worthwhile entertainment and sustenance such as malls, clubs, and restaurants that don’t have either a drive-up window or buffet.

I found that the subway wasn’t as bad as everyone makes it out to be, but I also didn’t have to share a car with Crazy Bill from the planet Zorq and his 17 invisible squirrels at 3:00 in the morning. This probably would have painted my view of the subway in a different color. The only problem that I had was finding exactly where to go to catch my train to my destination. The trains were clearly labeled either alphabetically or numerically, and the color-coded chart that was displayed at the terminal was plainly laid out so that anyone with an advanced degree in Hyper Calculetic Cryptology could have figured it out. Alas, I could only achieve a degree in Sub-Hyper Calculetic Cryptology so I was stuck asking people “Does this train take me to Greenwich Village?” After only having to ask this question five times I was on my way.

The cab ride had to have been the worst travel experience I had while in New York. It was accurate to the movies and television shows that portray it. Now, I’m normally what you call a “close driver” anyway, which means that after driving on the interstates in Tennessee (which is a necessity to get anywhere with suitable food and entertainment) I have gotten to the point where the appropriate distance between my front bumper and the back bumper of the car in front of me is approximately the size of a cantaloupe. This leaves me just enough room to maneuver if the fool in front of me should slow down or, God forbid, try to stop. I often scare the shit out of people (figuratively speaking) when I drive because when brake lights flare I often don’t slow down, yet when I saw the way that people drive on New York streets I myself had trepidations about getting into a car and attempting to pull into traffic.

The cab ride went along the lines of this.
- The driver honks and pulls into traffic in front of three other cars.
- I grip the handle with a viselike death grip and clench my anus.
- Driver runs two yellow lights and almost sideswipes a van.
- I am sweating copiously and my teeth are grinding.
- Driver honks one time in warning and pulls off the road to access the bridge ramp, missing another car by a frog hair.
-I shit myself (figuratively…and a little literally).

The people at the airport were very sympathetic to my situation and showed me the way to the bathroom with minimal snickering.