I started writing this even before I arrived in New York, as I had to stay in Pittsburgh a little longer than planned. The plane wasn’t there. I might as well watched paint dry but there was no time, I needed to get on another plane, as my flight got cancelled without my permission. Some freak storm/hurricane-lady-thing was making its way through the sky and like all men know when it comes to bitches, just move out of the way.
Getting a seat on another flight is almost as nerve racking and stressfull as it sounds but only because it’s worse, considering I had checked bags. I was convinced I was never going to see that greyish black suitcase of mine again. It all adds to the fun and my high blood pressure. The Wife was more concerned about my welfare, so she made me understand why I was not flying. I don’t board a commercial plane with a parachute, after all. She has a unique ability to calm me down. I did get on a flight to LaGuardia airport.
Only to have that delayed as well. For another two hours. That makes four. I couldn’t keep the Wife on the phone for that long, someone has to take care of the other kids. So I turned to beer. You know what they say about the joys of air travel? Well f@ck they. They don’t know what they’re talking about. They can go screw themselves. Pleasures of air travel doesn’t exist. Air travel is standing in queues, carting luggage around, experiencing ample body searches and a million scanners, then run around like a crazy person from gate to gate, only having to wait at the final one. Fortunately the weather started to clear up when I eventually boarded the plane…I think…hic…Wow, sunny Pittsburgh…Man I love the sun…It’s so pretty…and round…hic…and yellow…Oooh, it’s hurting my eyes now…hic
Arriving in the small, inconspicuous airport of LaGuardia was like arriving in an African country. Equipment was primitive, paint was peeling and there was a lot less billboards around. It looked kind of dodgy but it was New York. It was even better when I saw my suitcase. We all know nothing really happens in New York and we also know that is just bullshit. I might as well have said that babies never cry. But that’s all they do, cry continuously, especially on a plane, and with that analogy: There is ALWAYS something happening in the Big Apple. Like the 17th Annual Tartan Parade. Wow! I must admit I’ve never seen so many skirt wearing, bearded men blowing pipes whilst holding a bag.
I hit a few comedy venues, just for a change, where a homeless person commented on my haircut. He said it looked great and asked me for a dollar. I smiled and gave him two. What? He said I had a good haircut! And I haven’t seen my wife in a long time. Clever bunch, these homeless New Yorkers. I got 2nd degree burns in my mouth when I tried to gobble down a ginormous, delicious-smelling piece of pizza. But I was starving. The comedy was really good this time, or in the words of my kids: ROTFL, LOL and LMAO. 🙂
I had time to visit the World Trade Centre Memorial which is something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time. And this is where the humour dissipates. One cannot fathom how sacred this place makes you feel. Watching the water cascading down the footprints of where the Twin towers stood, raises an undeniable sense of loss and sadness. Bad things happened here, but it remains a beautiful memorial. A real honest homeage to heroes. It is proof that humans rise up, irrespective of the vicious acts they might have fell victim to.
I think this pic captures the essence of what I felt perfectly.
It’s a place to remember.
Walked around the tip of Manhattan’s financial district to get a glimpse of the lady dressed in a sheet and crown, holding the torch. I didn’t even feel guilty being in the way of the thousand joggers and cyclists having to go around me. I just couldn’t get myself to board a ferry for a closer view as I had my share of waiting in line on this trip. My zoom lens would have to suffice for the people at home.
Onwards to Houston ya’ll.