hull in my head

As my flight from Seattle touched down in New York, the clock began: 24 hours to see as much as I could, without making myself completely sick.

At the airport I was met by my two very helpful friends: Marcus and Josh, They happened to be in the Big Apple doing volunteer work and agreed to pick me up. I was also met by a sickly hot and sticky climate that I would come to assume New York was always like. “Muggy” as the kids say…

Our first stop in the city was for food. Having eaten no more than the less than generous snack crackers provide on my flight, I had earned a well-deserved appetite. With England’s reputation for bland food looming over my head we decided to go for something I KNOW I will not be able to find across the pond. Soul food!

After a short drive we found ourselves in Harlem at Brother Jimmy’s. I literally inhaled fried green tomatoes, a pulled pork sandwich, collared greens, corn bread, and anything else my friends fed me out of pity/astonishment. It was all amazingly tasty.

After our late diner began the whirlwind tour of 3 of the 5 burrows. We went to Time Square where even in the late hour was as bright as day, we walked the promenade, I stood at the steps of Steven Spielberg’s supposedly renovated brownstone too chicken to ring the door bell, watched the city in all it’s Hollywood backdrop like beauty from atop of 90 Sans roof, and after thoroughly exhausting ourselves got a few hours of sleep.

The next day was very fun as well and definitely more of a “me” experience. Save for a great tour and subsequent lunch at Bethel (The branch headquarters of Jehovah’s Witnesses), I spent the entire day just wandering around by myself looking at whatever caught my eye. I went to a few coffee shops, a cool bakery, got an amazingly meticulous and gentle hair cut, was sticker shocked by a $1,200 overcoat that I fancied, hung out in a park, was saturated with rain from a torrential thunderstorm, eat real New York pizza, and most impressively mastered the subway. I even learned to speak a few words of New Yorker.

New Yorker of course is the languageless language of the city. Typically it is all done with eye movement, head movement, or strategically placed fingers. I chose the head moving dialect. It occurred as I was exiting the Subway, I was heading to an elevator when a hard looking man all “thugged out” in his Roccawear best, put out his arm and held the elevator door for me. Like lightening in my mind came all the angles of what to say and how to say it. Instantaneously I knew that as a “tourist” and nerdy looking white guy I couldn’t do anything tacky and lose the respect of this guy. I also knew that in holding the door for me he was showing a genuine sign of kindness that needed to be acknowledged. So I nodded at him (chin up as to not show submission) and he replied back with an even less exaggerated nod slightly to the left. I took it as loosely translating to: “Thanks but don’t think for a second that I am intimidated or impressed by you, your small act of kindness did not go unnoticed however I am retaining all my masculinity and “rawness” and expressing that if provoked I will fight back (although I would undoubtedly lose)” To which he replied: “Duly noted sir, I understand your position and will not back down myself. Enjoy the ride up to the street level.” Or something to that effect, you can’t expect me to accurately translate New Yorker after only one day.

I spent the rest of the night sitting in the airport in wet smelling clothes waiting for my delayed airline and growing more and more excited with every English accent I would hear. “Fourteen hours till I live in England” I kept telling myself, still trying to will myself to believe it. The last hour before boarding I sat with aching feet and equal measures of exhaustion and elation daydreaming of what my new life would hold. It’s going to be an amazing year.