Intrepid Hitchhiker's Guide to New York
I'm posting this blog. It's significant. Truly.
I would never had thought to do so, but I ended up hitching a ride from Brooklyn into Manhattan with a complete stranger on account of the transit strike. Lucky for me, my driver (an indie filmmaker called Leslie Shearing) turned out NOT to be a serial killer. Lucky for her, I turned out NOT to be a serial killer. And she didn't even charge me any money for the drive in.
Who said the yokels are nasty? (well, she was actually from Nevada originally, so that could account for the fact that I am sitting in the New York Public Library writing this blog, rather than lying face down in a pool of mud water in some back alley, being eaten by rabid rats - which, by the way, I have not seen yet).
The intrepid hitchhiker. Adventure on the high seas. Live a life of daring.
No one tell my parents.
Continuing on from my transit-strike saga, the ride into Manhattan was a breeze. Walking 16 blocks uptown, and 5 blocks west across town... with an 18kg backpack on my back, a daypack strapped to my front, and a big-ass bag on one shoulder... was not. I learnt one very important lesson from that 45 minute non-stop hike.
I do not want to come back as a Tibetan sherpa in my next life.
I am now bunking out with friends - Mel and Des - from home who have just arrived in New York for holidays. I am camping out on the floor of their hotel room in Times Square (made all the more comfortable after a stealthy raid of an unlocked linen closet on our floor). If any maid comes into our room and opens our closet when we're out... she will most likely be suffocated as an avalanche of duvets, blankets, pillows and sheets falls on her. Death by doona.
The room is 'compact' and the toilet keeps clogging up. I don't understand it. The portions of food served in restaurants here is enormous. Why are the shit chutes so small? Since there are only 2 people booked into the room, everytime someone knocks on the door - I have to hide in the closet. This is New York living!
And on that note: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and all that other jovial stuff that has people buying things they don't need at this time of year and unnecessarily consuming enough food to feed a small third world country. 8)
I would never had thought to do so, but I ended up hitching a ride from Brooklyn into Manhattan with a complete stranger on account of the transit strike. Lucky for me, my driver (an indie filmmaker called Leslie Shearing) turned out NOT to be a serial killer. Lucky for her, I turned out NOT to be a serial killer. And she didn't even charge me any money for the drive in.
Who said the yokels are nasty? (well, she was actually from Nevada originally, so that could account for the fact that I am sitting in the New York Public Library writing this blog, rather than lying face down in a pool of mud water in some back alley, being eaten by rabid rats - which, by the way, I have not seen yet).
The intrepid hitchhiker. Adventure on the high seas. Live a life of daring.
No one tell my parents.
Continuing on from my transit-strike saga, the ride into Manhattan was a breeze. Walking 16 blocks uptown, and 5 blocks west across town... with an 18kg backpack on my back, a daypack strapped to my front, and a big-ass bag on one shoulder... was not. I learnt one very important lesson from that 45 minute non-stop hike.
I do not want to come back as a Tibetan sherpa in my next life.
I am now bunking out with friends - Mel and Des - from home who have just arrived in New York for holidays. I am camping out on the floor of their hotel room in Times Square (made all the more comfortable after a stealthy raid of an unlocked linen closet on our floor). If any maid comes into our room and opens our closet when we're out... she will most likely be suffocated as an avalanche of duvets, blankets, pillows and sheets falls on her. Death by doona.
The room is 'compact' and the toilet keeps clogging up. I don't understand it. The portions of food served in restaurants here is enormous. Why are the shit chutes so small? Since there are only 2 people booked into the room, everytime someone knocks on the door - I have to hide in the closet. This is New York living!And on that note: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and all that other jovial stuff that has people buying things they don't need at this time of year and unnecessarily consuming enough food to feed a small third world country. 8)
posted by Christina at 8:20 PM
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