Sunday, 14. September 2008.
It's my last day in the US and I have to go get some gifts for the family. I would also like to get a new box for my bike because this one got quite ripped and torn and it would take plenty of duct tape to fix it.
I get myself a map of bike shops in Brooklyn and decide to shop for some gifts along the way.
It's a hot September day, but at least the humidity has lowered down a bit since my last stay in July. I find a croissant shop near Grand Army Plaza and have my breakfast at around 1 pm.
I start my quest for a bike box, but finding a box in a good condition proves to be mission impossible. For some reason most bike shops are either out of bicycle boxes or are keeping them for their own needs. The only shop that had some, and was charging quite some money for them, had a couple in worse condition than mine, so I decided to keep mine and just duct tape it well.
I manage to find some gifts for my beloved ones and get back to Peter's place.
Peter is back as well, so we still have some time to chat before the taxi comes to pick me up. I leave a handful of things I didn't manage to fit in my bags, mostly bike stuff like helmet, extra tubes, bike water bottles, camping cookset,... hoping he can have some use for them. I already left my sleeping bag with the lady who owned the car I was driving, asking her to pass it to a needy person if she comes across any.
Still, my backpack probably weighs as much as I do and then there's my carry on and the HUGE box with bike inside. I look as if I'm going on some loooong expedition.
The taxi is already outside waiting. The driver looks quite sketchy and the taxi doesn't really say "taxi" on the rooftop, but Peter assures me it's a regular taxi company so I put my stuff in, say goodbye to my good friend Peter and leave New York City.
Along the way, we're passing all the sketchiest areas of New York City. Maybe not all, but definitely many. The driver tries to entertain me, but he assumes I'm English since I'm travelling with British Airways so he tries to remember all the English football players he knows, dead and alive. He's Mexican and the only Mexican football player I know is Blanco, and that doesn't help the conversation that much, to be honest.
So I just decide to play it along and we switch to British politics, British colonies, London and whatnot, but honestly I'm happy when we reach the airport and can't wait to load all my stuff on the plane and relax in my seat. In fact, I'm so happy that I leave a big tip to my Mexican taxi driver and then drag my stuff to the check in point.
The line before the check in counters is long and I'm sure I don't get unnoticed with my huge bike box and two backpacks. It's quite a balancing game, because I first put the two backpacks against each other then get back to get the bike, as the line moves on. Entertained by the show, the couple behind me decides to help, so now I'm progressively moving my backpacks and they're moving my bike.
Then the guy starts talking to me, seeing my Roman address on the bike tag. He says he's been to Rome and asks me what I have been doing in the US. I tell him about my trip and every bigger place I've visited he's either lived or worked there. Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Monterey,... The guy's lived just about everywhere. I'm like, wtf! So, after all this, he asks me something assuming I am Italian and I tell him I am Croatian instead. Yes, you guessed it - he says he's Croatian too!
He tells me about his visit to Croatia and how his grandparents are Croatian and we even figure out what area they were from. I'm thinking; hey, what are the chances?!
So he tells me about his trip and it turns out he's been on the road for two years. Gave up his job in an IT company and started travelling the world. In Australia he met the girl that is standing next to him and she joined him for a year. In fact, she's returning home via Europe, which is why they are at JFK in the check in queue.
We exchange information and I proceed towards the metal detector. The information I found on internet about checking in my bike for free was true - I didn't have to pay a cent to check it in.
I get on the plane, take my seat and relax. Phew, finally I'm on my way back home. The seat next to me is still empty. I just hope it doesn't belong to some boring person or someone who's gonna fart all through the flight or snore real loud. And non stinky feet would be nice too.
Then I see the most gorgeous girl you could actually see on a plane, or elsewhere for that matter. Tall, blonde, slim, elegant and incredibly good looking. I'm like, whoa!
And guess what, she takes exactly the seat next to me, the one that I was praying doesn't get taken by some obnoxious guy or a mother with a 3 year old kid (if I'm not mistaken, under 3 years of age you don't pay the ticket but you sit in your mom's lap or something) that is going to annoy the shit out of me. And instead - bingo!
However, I'm too intimidated by her beauty that I don't say anything for a good part of the flight.
When we finally start chatting, it's as we're playing broken telephones. I say something and she replies something totally off topic. I mean, way, way off. I start wondering if she's dumb or something. The conversation goes something like this:
me: "Where are you from?"
her: "Australia."
me: "So you're going to Australia?"
her: "No, I'm going back to UK. I'll spend some time there."
me: "And where in Australia are you from?"
her: "London."
me: "Oh, I didn't know there is London in Australia"
her: "No, it's not in Australia."
me: "Where is it?"
her: "London?"
me: "Well, wherever you are from in Australia"
her: "London is in the UK"
me: "I know it's in the UK. But didn't you say you're Australian?"
her: "Yes, I am Australian"
And so forth.
She also has a pretty bad accent, which I can't really blame on her Australian heritage because I do much better with understanding other Ozzies. She just speaks in a weird way.
We talk some more in the above style and then I try watching "The Bucket List" with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman.
The movie is quite entertaining and before I know it we're in London.
I get up, pick up my carry on backpack from the overhead cabinet and wait until the crowd in front of me diminishes so I can move towards the exit. I turn around and only now that we're standing next to each other I notice a hearing aid behind her ear. She can't hear well - that's why our conversation didn't make much sense. I feel sorry for her and kind of bad that I even thought she was dumb. Shame on me. Nobody's perfect, and I'm so far from it. Err, what can I do?