The NYC 2
K, so I’m in a lot of pain right now. I think I have fourteen blisters. I tried to count them, but some had merged together before I finished. It’s amazing how such little things can completely incapacitate a person. Also, we walked something on the order of a quadrillion spans today. I’m not 100% sure of the conversion rate, but that’s like 8 miles. Uphill. Both ways. In the snow. Naked. With a skunk chasing you. Ugh. It’s 9:45 and I’m already ready for bed, when it’s supposed to feel like 6:45 to me. I’m all screwed up.
I began the day at 7:30 in the morning by waking up nine disgruntled foreigners with my cell phone alarm. After repeated blows to the head I managed to find my way to the showers and pretend I wasn’t contracting diseases just by touching the door handle. At least this hostel has doors. And lockers. All you need, really. I was ready to go at about 8, and after a call from Kris Feldmann telling me how to get there, I headed for a bakery in SoHo where I was to meet my classmates. I hadn’t seen anyone but Lina yet, and didn’t know who actually made it after all. The answer was practically nobody. My two professors sat on a bench outside the bakery and Kris and Gordon were inside, but that’s pretty much all of the fifteen people in my class who were there at 9:20 (I was late on account of the not knowing where I was most of the time).
So, we sat and waited. And waited. And waited, until about thirty minutes later Lina showed up. The five of us, ready to set out, began what was to be a VERY long and VERY confused walk across Manhattan and Brooklyn. ‘mommy‘. Or, at least, that’s what I would have said had I known. We first walked 20 blocks to a building that I’d read about many times but never would have found near the Hudson river. After sufficiently looking at it, we walked another 20 blocks to another building that was entirely blue and devastatingly ugly. It was just being finished, and looked as though it were designed and built to the cutting edge 25 years ago. Ghastly, really.
Lunch time had arrived, so we walked 10 blocks to an eatery that served very small, expensive ’boutique’ sandwiches. I had two, and wished I’d been like everyone else and gotten three. There’s another 20 down the drain. We gathered ourselves and began the longest trek of the day, aaaaall the way down to the edge of the water at the Brooklyn bridge, only to find that the only way up and across it was to go aaaaall the way back to where it actually touched ground, 20 blocks away. We finally got to the end of the damn thing and were so wiped out that we had to stop to catch our collective breaths before heading out again.
I’m not sure I mentioned how miserable it is here. It’s as though we are indirectly in the midst of a mighty rain storm. But instead of it falling straight from the clouds, the moisture is simply hovering in the air, making it so humid that all the people of New York are sweating a downpour into the streets. There are literally rivers of sweat running through the gutters. It’s the kind of weather that isn’t really that hot, but makes you want to take a shower every time you step out of the shower. By the time we got to the end of the Brooklyn Bridge we were all ready to change pants. Not with each other, I just mean…nevermind.
So, removing a slew of video cameras from several shoulder bags, we began our looooong slooooow march across the most famous of NY bridges. There were throngs and throngs of hot, sweaty, disgusting tourists like us madly snapping pictures along the entire span of the structure. I was reminded of the time I wandered naked through a spa for infirm slugs. Very much reminded.
After an hour or so, we made it to the other side, full videotapes in hand, and set out to find a subway station back to Manhattan. 20 blocks and three sets of directions later, we found a hot, dark, crap-infested hole and gleefully charged down to the platform. We arrived back at Fourth Street in Manhattan 20 minutes later and disembarked, happy for the only-headache-inducing heat of the topside. We all bought hot dogs and threw them away just to get some napkins to wipe the swimming pools from our butts, and then set off to find a building by Herzog and Demeuron that turned out to be about 20 blocks away. It was, and we saw.
It was time to make a choice. Either make the 40 block underground sauna trip to a bunch of art galleries that were going to close in 50 minutes, or find a place to drink. After such a long, sweaty, long day, the latter was chosen by all, and we walked 20 blocks to find a nearby pub. Beer on an empty, dehydrated stomach is really quite coma-inducing, and after one and a half Stellas, I was ready to call it a day. Gordon and I thought we oughta put some food in (to mix in with the alcohol), so all went their separate ways and Gordon and I found a subway stop 20 blocks away. Three trains later we emerged in Times Square and found a cheap little NY pizza place about 20 blocks away. By the time we were done eating, my feet were the size of softballs, which I guess if you ball up a foot into a sphere really isn’t that big, but it was all blister, so that’s bad. Gordon and I hobbled back to the station 20 blocks away and split up, he to his friend’s place in SoHo and me to my hostel on the Upper West Side.
I emerged from underground and dragged my bluddy stumps (for some reason I find it to be more descriptive when it’s spelled like that) only two blocks past the projects (actually, project singular), where a nice crack dealer helped me stumble across the street to the hostel’s front door. I have not gained the courage to tackle the five flights of stairs up to my room, and am using this time of hopeful recuperation to write this blog. Unfortunately, now I’m done, and I have to stand up. Which makes me very very sad.
Oh, one last bit of info, last night I went to meet Gillian at her friend’s place, which turned out to be a mansion stuffed into the fifth floor of a gigantic building full of mansions. Like a can of sardines, except instead of fish they are mansions. I had to convince three separate security guards (one who doubled as a gun-wielding elevator operator) to gain entry to the place. Gus’ friends are very nice, very well-connected (in terms of dead grandmothers) people, who were a fun bunch to hang out with. After a while of sitting on one of their many couches talking about stuff with the crew, Gillie took me to a nice diner down the street and I drank water (remember the slug sauna?) while she ate dinner (since I’d already eaten). Just thought I’d mention that bit of my night, because it was cool. Some people have all the luck.
-c
