I slept until just before 10.00am EDT. That is the equivalent of 3.00pm BST, and is perhaps an indication of how exhausted I’ve allowed myself to get. The earplugs, and eye mask helped significantly. These allowed me to keep the air conditioning running so the apartment remained at a bearable temperature.
After a shower (and my apartment shower is very good indeed – an important selling point for me), I ventured out to the Village Café and Grill. Here I asked for a bagel with bacon, and egg, and a large coffee with cold milk. The person serving said “no cheese?!”, as if such a thing would be a sign of madness. In order to alleviate this, and avoid any kind of international incident I succumbed to cheese. This I very much enjoyed.
Feeling “well fuelled” for the day, I headed west. I actually had no particular intention of ending up anywhere other than one place, 14, North Moore Street. This is the site of “Hook and Ladder 8”, and is a sacred place to me. This is the fire station from the movie “Ghostbusters”. As it happened, the logical route to this location took me past the crossing of Bedford, and Grove (“Friends” apartment), The Stonewall Inn, and National Monument, and the Cherry Lane Theatre. I was in essence following Bleeker Street, as mentioned in some versions of the well known song “New York Girls”. By all accounts it once was a location of many “dens of sin”. This led me (via “Downing Street”) to “Varrick Street”, heading south. I arrived at my destination with a “woman’s shift and apron” nowhere in evidence, but for me it would have hardly made a difference either way.
I found myself very emotional, looking at the landmark in front of me. This building, and I first met in 2010, but our history goes back 16 years prior to even that. The movie it was featured in is perhaps the most important of my entire childhood. It is one I can essentially recite along with whenever I watch it. It was almost as if all the crazy, stressful things that I have done over the last three years have been the work that enabled it to be ok for me to come and look….at this. As if it was my final reward for everything I’ve put my efforts in to.
I bemoaned the fact that there is not anywhere to sit, but perhaps this was a good thing as far as the passport control people were concerned. I might never have left. I will undoubtedly be back here several times during this visit, and those in future.
I spoke to my family on “WhatsApp” from here. They know me well enough to be able to confirm that of all the places in the world, this is very much a “happy place” for me.
From here, it seemed logical to head a little south to the World Trade Centre. This is known to almost everyone in the world as the site of the terrorist attack of the 11th of September 2001, commonly called “9/11” after the American date styling. I found the North Pool flowing as beautifully as ever, with the south pool dry, and being cleaned. I wondered what it must be like to clean such a large, and internationally important monument. The person scraping between the tiles looked incredibly small, compared to the size of the pool.
I made sure to locate Vincent G. Halloran, the firefighter from Ladder 8 who died in 9/11, before investigating the building called “World Trade Centre”. I could not recall having been inside before. It was full of designer shops, and reminded me a lot of the new “St. James Centre” in Edinburgh.
From here, the “1” train took me north to Penn Station, where I frequented “Macy’s”. It is fairly well known that I am not as it were a “shopper”, but I am in need of new cargo shorts. To summarise – I have three pairs with me. On one pair the zip is broken. On another pair (which I am wearing today), the zip is broken. The third pair is functional but was cheaply bought from “Amazon”, and I am not keen on the artificial feel of the material.
The first pair of shorts I put my hand on in this famous emporium coat in the region of $200. I left.
Further travel north took me to Times Square. Here I enjoyed being at the heart of the most famous point in the most famous city in the world. I managed to spot myself on the webcam directed at the area from one of the buildings above. It was then a short walk to Central Park, purchasing an “Arnold Palmer” (mix of lemonade, and mango iced tea) on the way. This I enjoyed under a tree in the company of the writings of Quentin Crisp. He is a somewhat controversial idol of mine who once lived in this city. I also greeted my friends at “Penicuik Folk Club”, who were on their weekly call at the time.
Feeling refreshed, I walked to “Bethesda Terrace”. This is very much the metaphorical (if not literal) central point of Central Park. It is known to me from the play, and miniseries “Angels in America”, and is the location of the final scene. I was pleased to find a copy of the script on-line and was able to perform the last speech, by means of a “Teleprompter” application.
Westwards was the memorial to John Lennon, and the “Dakota Building”, where he was shot at approximately 10:50 p.m. EST on December 8th, 1980.
55, Central Park West was nearby, being the other pivotal location from the movie mentioned earlier. I was pleased to find he road flat, and not in any state of disrepair as a result of the machinations of Gozer the Gozarian. I then took myself to a branch of “Target” via “Sesame Street”. Sadly, Big Bird was not stacking shelves, and they did not have the shorts I was requiring. I noted however from their stock-check system that this was perhaps more of a realistic proposition than the establishment I frequented earlier in the day.
With my feet starting to ache, I took the “1” train south again from Columbus Circle, and enjoyed a very welcome pint of Stonewall IPA, at the watering hole of the same name. Here I enjoyed the sensation of being cold under the intense air conditioning.
Back in The East Village, I frequented the well reviewed (if badly titled) “Curry Flavor”. It was a couple of doors down from my apartment. I am very judgemental of curry houses. In fact, the lack of any really good ones that deliver to my flat in Aberdour was the catalyst to me buying a slow cooker.
All curry houses are judged by the quality of the Lamb Rogan Josh. The best is, and will always be that served by “Kebab Mahal” in Nicolson Square in Edinburgh.
I am pleased to say that the dish served at this New York venue was excellent. I enjoyed it with a garlic naan bread, and a “Kingfisher” beer, along with more of the writings of Mr. Crisp.
In the apartment, clothes were peeled off, and a shower was had before the visual, and aural feast that was the next episode of the “Live Aid 40th” documentary. I felt satisfied with my day, and that New York was pretty much as I had left it three years previous.
