So, I've returned from the Big Apple to the Big Smoke. (Hmmm .... anyone notice that if consumed once a day, their "big" thing keeps the doctor away, while our "big" thing can cause emphasema and lung cancer?)
I woke 2 minutes before my alarm (I love it when that happens), showered, packed the last of my things and checked out of the hotel. The customer sales person (I don't know what they're called these days ... I used to call them "desk clerks") was very helpful and took care of some paperwork regarding my room rate (ah, the joys of booking on line) and then I made my way to Bryant Park to be picked up by the not-so-aptly named "Airport Express".
Here's a word of warning: when booking travel to and from New York, try to avoid rush hour! Yup, I had to travel from Manhattan to Newark at 8:15 am, to make it for an 11:00 flight. Horrors!!
I checked the Express schedule which indicated that the bus would pick me up in the same location as I was dropped off and that the bus arrived every 15 minutes. Five minutes after I arrived, I saw the approaching coach, right on schedule. The driver helped some passengers disembark and started to close the doors when I excused myself and asked if I could board the bus. Here's how that all went down ...
Driver: "No"
HB: "Why not?"
Driver: "Wrong pick up place"
HB: "But the schedule says that this is where we are supposed to be picked up, and the sign <pointed to "New Jersey Airport Express" sign> indicates the same thing."
Driver: "New place"
HB: "Oh, ... uhm, ... ok. So, ... uh, ... where do I have to go to get picked up?"
Driver: "Across the street"
HB: "Directly across the street?"
Driver: "No"
HB: "Oh, ok ... so is there a particular place across the street where I should go, then?"
Driver: "Yes, across the street"
HB: "Ok, so I cross the street, and then ..... ?"
Driver: "Go to 5th Avenue"
HB: "So, then the pick up spot is at 42nd and 5th?"
Driver: "Yes, cross the street and go to 5th"
To get the full effect of this conversation, picture the driver walking away from me, up the steps to his seat, and closing the door while this whole exchange was going on. He was either on a very tight schedule (perhaps he read Chapter Two of my blog and wanted to redeem his company name) or I repulsed him in some way. I was leaning towards option number one.
I gathered my things and crossed the street, as instructed. I then walked to 5th Avenue, as instructed. No sign of an Airport Express pick-up spot. In fact, no sign of anything except the stairs to the subway. At this point, 20 minutes had passed and I was worried about not making it to the Newark airport in time for my flight. I started picturing every scene from every movie where the panic-stricken heroine hyperventilates while in a cab on her way somewhere, and eventually grabs her things, exits the cab, and runs past the immobile traffic to her destination.
Well, I can tell you this much: I was damn-well not running to Jersey! So, I did the only thing I could at that point ... i flagged down a cab and asked about the rate to Newark. Go figure I got the only cabbie in New York who goes by the rules, charges according to the meter, and refuses to turn if off and agree on a flat rate. However, I was worried about traffic and timing, so I just got in and braced myself for the final bill.
I guess the driver felt badly for me, so he explained that, according to the law, they aren't allowed to turn off the meter for trips like this. He also explained to me that the meter started at $17.50 and went up from there. (I was so thrown by this number that I kinda stopped listening after that.) A few moments passed and he told me that he doesn't drive for a living. He had a suit store, but things were slow so he had to drive a cab a few times a week to make ends meet. I then learned that his wife was from Vancouver, that they had 2 kids in their late teens/early 20s and that his wife just had triplets.
Now, I have no idea if this was all to make up for his sticking to the rules, or what. All I can say is that the Newfoundlander in me took over and when he dropped me at the airport (in record time, I might add) I gave him a hefty tip. I'm a sucker for a good Hallmark movie of the week kind of story!
I checked in at the Newark Porter desk and was asked if I wanted to fly out on an earlier flight. Are you kidding me? Not only are you not going to cancel or delay my flight, but you're going to get me home sooner? I looked but didn't see Alan Funt anywhere, so I just said "yes, thank you" to the lovely Porter Agent.
The flight was smooth and comfortable and while it was a little too early for a cocktail, I did enjoy some vegetable crisps. (Beats the hell out of peanuts!) We landed, disembarked and headed to customs where I was shocked to see NO LINE-UP!! There was one person in front of me and that was it!!! (Again, no Alan Funt.) The customs agent asked the purpose of my visit and what I had purchased while in New York. I told him I'd listed everything in my blog, but he didn't seem to like that answer. (No, that didn't happen ... but wouldn't it have been a laugh if it had? ... or it would make a great story about how I got arrested for the first time!) Then, he did something interesting. I'd written a fairly "rounded" figure and he asked what the total really was!! He was either questioning my integrity or my math skills! The nerve!! (Clearly he was picking on me because I am a chick singer and he figures I can't count past 4.) I gave him the more correct total (not at all sheepishly, I might add) and made sure it was only 3 or 4 dollars less than I'd listed, so I would seem like a good and fair Canadian. With that, he stamped my card and wished me a good day! <Phew!>
My luggage arrived fairly quickly, the ferry was at the dock ready for boarding when I arrived, and my Darling One was waiting for me at the door as I exited. Things seemed to be going to smoothly! With no Alan Funt in sight, I looked for those annoying "Just for Laffs Gags" cameras, but nothing. So, I just accepted my good fortune and headed home. I enjoyed a lovely lunch and some quality time with my Sweetheart and then headed to Humber to teach. I thought it would be fun to conduct lessons with a Brooklyn accent but that seemed to confuse the students. (Poor things don't know me very well yet.)
Tonight my two best friends cooked me a beautiful turkey dinner to make up for the Thanksgiving dinner I didn't have while in New York. I was really and truly touched by this and realized that I had a lot for which to be grateful. I had just spent a fantastic weekend enjoying wonderful music and food in an amazing city. I returned home and spent the afternoon with someone I simply adore. Then, I ended my day with two of the most fantastic Gals in the world who took the time to make sure I enjoyed a proper Thanksgiving dinner complete with not just friends but "family". Yup, I'm pretty lucky.
And, in the end, I realized that as much as I LOVE to travel, there really is no place like home.
(Is it just me, or was that a "movie of the week" sort of ending?!)
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