EDIT: Combined all the scattered posts from this NY trip into this ultra monster post.
DAY 1: Some rest stop in Philly | 3:02 am
Just one more state between us and NYC. It’s my first time trying to sleep at a rest stop and honestly I’m having kind of a hard time. When the car’s moving though, I knock right out.
During one of our gas station stops at 1 am, a guy walks up towards our car. He was wearing a cap backwards, a tank top and basketball shorts.
“Hi. I need to talk to you.”
“Can you row down your window?”
What, so you can rob me? I thought.
Erika already pulled the key from the engine. Maybe I should’ve opened my car door and invited him in for some Brisk. I told him to just ask whatever he wanted because we were clearly still communicating through the glass. That got him a little frustrated and so he walked over to Erika’s side.
“Can you row down your window?” he said.
Then when neither of us did anything he got irritated.
“Can you just row down your window? I’m just trying to ask a question. Do you have a tire level gauge?”
Erika looked to me and I said no (as far as I know). He left and I noticed he was wearing sandals. Maybe he really was having a hard time on his trip. But to walk up to a car at night and knock on the window without thinking? Damn frat boys.
Is Brooklyn in Paris?
6/28 | 11:55 pm | Some NJ Service Area
Today we went to a cave. Didn’t get to see bats hibernate. There’s a hole shaped like a heart and people get married there while sitting in a boat.
I reserved a French restaurant called Le Train Bleu online. It said the restaurant would close on Sunday and we planned to arrive on Saturday. I would like to reserve a table for two for June 28th at 8 pm. My friend and I will be traveling from Illinois and we hope to have a taste of the restaurant before its renovation, I commented. We are pleased to confirm your reservation for the dinner on 28th june.
Weird, her e-signature’s in French. Must be an authenticity thing or something. Less than 15 minutes til our reservation and we were still painfully progressing through the living hell that is New York traffic. The road from 42nd to 3rd seemed like a lifetime plus some. Left turns blocking the straightaway, man. So we finally make it to 3rd and just randomly park the car. We rushed to the top floor of Bloomingdale and asked a store clerk about the restaurant. “If you turn here, it’s all the way in the back. But it usually closes at 4 so…”
Wait, it couldnt have closed at 4. We made a reservation for 8 pm. “Unless it’s open for a special event or something,” she told us. We went to the back of the floor and found the imitation cargo/trailer pitch black. After a brief investigation on Erika’s smartphone, it hit both of is that out I had reserved the restaurant in Paris rather than NYC.
… Table for two, please.
7/2 Bus Ride
The New Jersey transit bus headed towards New York. Passengers inside the cream colored vehicle sat scattered at intervals. There was a man in a purple polo, his overly gelled hair leaning against the reclined seat. Another man with dark shades spoke on the phone.
In the middle sat two girls, one reading manga and the other unwinding to R&B. One adorned a flower patterned printed headband, her top and shoes showing the latest fashion trend. The other sported a simiarly patterned dress, just a little bit too short but she didnt care; she had shorts on underneath, plus she knew she had nice legs. They were both pleasantly surprised to find the bus well ventilated, the cold air blasting from the AC filling their noses. All of the passengers rocked gently from side to side with each curve of the road, subconciously adjusting to the bus driver’s accelerations and halting breaks.
Content in her own world, one of the only safe places she knew. What would it be like in Another? The world is so lonely.
Yukidon rebound 7/5
Ever take your nail and just kinda scrape at an egg shell? It peels right off, the surface as smooth as a baby’s bottom. We just wanna be the way we like. Sometimes that can be a good thing.
There has to be something about Korean BBQ, cause this drunk Asian man kept insisting on brushing past everyone in line and stumbling into the restaurant. The manager politely asked him to leave, then KAPOW! Slapped the manager twice. Of course it would start pouring hardcore rain as the manager pushed this guy out. Drunk guy kept rebelling:
“You don’t understand.”
“Stop touching me!”
“Who are you?”
I didn’t know who I felt more badly for, the manager or the drunk. I wondered how they manage to keep the place open 24/7.
I sat across from a homeless man on the subway. He looked it, at least.
“Smell ma feet!” he kept saying.
He had coal skin from top to bottom, the white of his eyes standing out like a tiger on prowl. He had rolled up jeans– from his knee and down to the bottom of his feet, his skin was dry and cracked to a indistinguishable degree. That’s part of a human being?
Mumble mumble… “and then I told her, ‘Smell my feet!”
He wore a black shirt with ‘Not Wasted’ in red font. He hummed a drifting melody, then it was quiet for a moment on the train.
“In the words of the holy bible–” he said, breaking the silent tranquility.
A few people stiffened, and everyone held their breaths and braced for a preach. He threw back his head.
“Smell ma feet!”
A few of the passengers giggled and I couldn’t help myself either. I glanced over at Erika and she had a blank expression.
“I don’t know if I should laugh,” she whispered to me.
I thought it was pretty funny.
When we got off the train I saw a blonde man with a black cap that said ‘NO1 CARES.’ He gave a homeless man a dollar. Young & Reckless.
Aftermaths of NYC
I used to hate cities. They seemed dark, forbidding and ominous. It was too loud, dirty and full of people. Years later I find myself going back to the same city, seeing the same places and loving it for all of those reasons. Yeah it’s loud, but boisterous. And what place isn’t dirty? (Except Tokyo and Singapore.) And the people– man, the people. I think that’s one of the best parts. Seeing everyone from tourists to businessmen, dainty sale clerks to aspiring musicians. A city’s a place for dreams. That’s very beautiful in its own way.
If I were to see the present me when I was 10, would I be proud, amazed or disgusted? I see her mouth move but can’t make out the words.