It seems I have been away for longer that I anticipated. Well, things have been busy. I realized that during much of May, I did not do many of the things I had been doing for many of the months prior: I was not writing, I was not meeting with my writing partner (shoutout to Miss C.). Now that I think about it, that may have been all that I didn't do. I still went to work, I still ate, I became even more obsessed with the Kardashian family. So it really seems I only neglected you during May. And for that, I apologize.
But this is not to say that there were things that happened that were not worth mentioning. We made a little vacation trip up to the Big Apple. The other times I've been up there, I've always flown into JFK. But this time, using Hotwire (shoutout to Hotwire), we got a killer deal but it involved flying into Laguardia. Neither of us had been to this airport, but I had made a vow to myself that if I were to ever move to New York I would live in Queens because that's where the Mets play and it is the home to my favorite Latina familia de television, The Suarezes. Laguardia, here we come.
We fly into Queens and into Laguardia. My first impression was that it was much smaller than JFK. We didn't have to take seven different trains around and within the airport. In fact, we just stepped off the plane and into the terminal and there was the foodcourt and those shops that sell books and those neck-pad-brace-pillows. I've never even seen those at JFK. In fact, I've only seen what look like mall kiosks at JFK--the kind that hawk flat irons, cell phone cases, and Rosetta Stone. I was impressed so far with Laguardia, to say the least.
We're out, we're walking around in the terminal. We see the sun so we figure that must be where our exit is and where we will meet the bus to take us into The City. Finally making it outside, we see some bus stops. Do you notice that regardless of what city you're in, bus stops all kind of look the same. And it seems to not matter whether you are at the airport or at the gas station across the street, there are always the same kind of looking people who hang out at the bus stop. Without describing the variety of people that fit this genre of loiterer, you can think about it and know who I'm talking about--especially if you know that angry little midget from Nashville, who always seemed to be weilding a knife or a Fanta bottle. These are the people who love bus stops. And they hang out at the airport bus stops, too.
The weird thing about this area, the loading/unloading area of the airport, was that there was no place to buy a metro card. I didn't understand how we could use public transportation in the Apple if we didn't have one, because hello, who carries cash around. I guess people who hang out at the bus stop carry cash because they all seemed to understand what was happening when the bus showed up and a few of them wandered on to it. I knew we would need the metro card to get on the train once we were abandoned by the bus driver in Harlem, and I wanted to be prepared. Also, I wanted to be able to just get on the bus and not worry about quarters and dimes and nickels. I guess regular bus riders only think in change.
Both of us were a little confused. We went back inside and asked the kind lady at the information desk where we could find a machine or a person that would sell us some metro cards. She thrust a thick visitor's guide in our hands and said something about Hudson News. This was the name of the airport bookstore. And it is also apparently the name of the place that we where we could find the key to The City--the metro card.
You know how I said Laguardia seems smaller than JFK? It's only smaller if you have an idea where you are going. Where we were once following the light of the sun, we were now staring at every neon and flourescent light, hoping it would read Hudson News. We went off in one direction that put us back in the area where we first entered the terminal and we were accosted by a sort of kindly sir who offered us his taxi services. We had just heard the announcement to not accept offers of rides from people who aren't in real taxis or buses. I don't understand why there isn't a train that goes to the airport, which could prevent the kinds of things that happen when you get into a stranger's car. Queens!
Figuring out that this is probably not where the Hudson News was, we turned in the opposite direction. We passed the lady who gave us all The City information. We ended up leaving the bible-thick tome of New York, along with the coupon book that included discounts to the Times Square Red Lobster and Phantom of the Opera, in our hotel room. Gross. So we're moving and I started to get frustrated because I was tired and for the first time since I've visited New York, I felt overwhelmed. I was tired and confused, and everything seemed to be in non-English. And there was no direct, overt or even neon-flourescent sign that there were metro cards to be purchased anywhere in this airport.
There might have been a bit of flared tempers during all of this. Neither one of us knew where we were going, and both of us were confused by the lack of clear and present signage. We eventually found the Hudson News where the metro cards could be found. Naturally, they were only available in denominations of $7. Weird, but we took two.
The rest of the trip was less taxing. We made it to our waaay downtown hotel--so downtown that it was on the corner of Wall Street. Both of us scowled at the bankers and financiers we saw Monday morning. I was hoping to see Ms. Bernie Madoff, but apparently she has been keeping a low profile. Lots of good food, lotttts of good drinks. Shoutout to Laura, Maura & Jane. I didn't realized how exhausted I was until we got home on Monday and promptly crashed after some Jimmy John's.
Next time, we'll probably fly into somewhere else. To say the least, I think Laguardia is a bit of a mess. Or it may just be one giant bus stop.
Jon
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