New York, New York

I had looked to the New York skyline as symbol of freedom from my Greyhound’s extra-terrestrial climate, and shortly after scooting over the Hudson River I was fully immersed in the freedom.

Another one of my favorite people in the world and good friends, MK, had kindly got a job on the south side of the Empire State building so his office was my first stop in town. It wasn’t a bad welcome to town to stare out the window beside his desk and see all of Manhattan and the distant Statue of Liberty exchange the orange glow of the sun for the dazzling sparkle of countless city lights. And it sure beat having to struggle with the touristic herds that are funneled through mandatory cheesy photo booths and ticket stations to get a view from the observation deck.

But I wasn’t in New York to observe, I was there to experience. Most of my friends from university had ended up congregating in this concrete jungle of a town and I was eager to act like fools with them again. So after a brief run over to Roosevelt Island to drop off my things at MK’s, we zipped on down to Union Square to see the rest of the gang.

As I recall, we didn’t get up to anything too much that night; sure we went to a club after the point when we didn’t need to pay cover charge, didn’t order any drinks (I think one of us even brought his own flask), and were a complete drain on the quality of the establishment, but we didn’t need to do that much. With just a room and the right combination of people, it’s possible to have as amazing a time as would be possible on any adventure in any corner of the planet. There are a few rooms and a few groups of people peppered around, mainly in Canada and the USA, that have provided me with more happiness than have entire countries of rooms filled with people.

After a couple of days, I was able to remember that what really fascinates me about New York is that it truly does have it all. I’ve never seen a place that has the highs and the lows so seamlessly integrated. A simple commute through town can demonstrate the variety of the city with ease. After a delightful brunch with the boys, MK and I hopped on a subway back to Roosevelt Island. About 3 stops in, the doors opened and a severely disgruntled woman who was Kung Fu gripping her crotch began Walking Dead shuffling her way towards our car. The closing doors alarm began to sound and she was able to scurry just quick enough to make it inside. Instantly, the car filled up with the strongest stale human urine smell I have ever come across, and I spent 3 days on an Indonesian ferry that had urine raining down from lifeboats.

At the next stop everybody, except said lady, stood up and made a break for fresh air and to switch cars. It is however, apparently, New York etiquette to not warn any of the new passengers about the imminent assault to their senses. Instead everyone streams past and leaves newcomers to their own fate. That meant that I was helpless to notify one of the most attractive, well put-together, purposeful woman I had ever seen from what she was walking into, and instead could only turn around and watch her sit down across from the Kung Fu grip and then immediately stand back up and bolt for the far end of the car.

We were all discombobulated from this affair so ended up missing the right connection and had to take the tramway to Roosevelt Island, instead. So we were lifted from the underbelly of the city, over the yellow cab-filled streets, and into the sky. Fresh air and snowflakes surrounded us as we carted across the East River, and the lights from countless skyscrapers, including the United Nations streamed into the tram.

The next night we had arranged to have a final dinner down in Union Square before we all needed to go home for the holidays. On the way there I decided that I should fit in at least a little bit of sightseeing while I was in town. So I made a loop to see the Christmas tree and skating rink in front of the Rockefeller Center and lights of Time Square. The illuminated tree in front of the more brightly illuminated 30 Rock, along with the constant glare of nearby Times Square’s advertisements were magnificent sights, and the problem with that was, of course, that people like magnificence. Every attempt at movement was met with elbow jabs to the side and every peek through a camera’s viewfinder revealed a stream of people too eager to snap a photo to stay out of mine.

Strolling through Union square to the boys’ place, I passed by a man standing on a street corner with an entire bottle of whiskey, gaily getting drunk and telling the world about it. A genuine look of joy was on his face as he blasted through the bottle and belted out his thoughts. After meeting up and heading out to dinner, the man was still there happier and prouder than ever in his choice of activity for the night.

I was pretty pleased with our slightly tamer plans for the evening of just eating some food. I spent about 10 times my average cost for a meal over the past year, but it was a special occasion. It’s awfully handy having friends dotted around the world when you’re travelling, but it’s awfully inconvenient at every other time, and I was just days away from being in that other time.

As we parted ways and headed to the subway, we passed by the same man whose multi-hour drink-a-thon was coming to an abrupt end when the police showed up to ask him what in god’s name he was doing. As we walked by I could see the man giving the cops an innocently puzzled is-this-not-normal-behaviour face.

My personal New York celebration also came to a crashing and depressing halt on my last day there. Everybody was flooding from town for the holidays, MK had already flown back to Zimbabwe and now I was in New York, alone (aside from the 16 million other people). Not only were my friends skipping town but my journey was nearly over. My entire way of life would be coming to an end the next morning when I would be standing in the Toronto bus station. I thought my idea of going around the world was a pretty good one, and I had enjoyed it. But now it would be all over? Just like that?

I jogged through Central Park hopping the snow covered trees, and frozen over lakes would shock the joy back into me, but to no avail. Eventually the night came and it was time to find my ride out of town. I hopped back on the Roosevelt Tramway for one last soar through the sky, dropped every last remaining cent I had on a burrito (a delicacy that is unfortunately not found all around the world), and with beans and hot sauce churning around my innards, I stepped into my bus. The final 10 hours of my world tour would be inside of another Greyhound.