Back to New York!

Saturday, 13. September 2008.
Speaking of songs, you know how you remember certain situations with certain songs going with them? Like, you remember certain situation and know exactly what song was playing or, even better, you hear a song and remember vividly a situation you were in when this song was playing.
For example, when I think of New Mexico I think of myself driving on the highway in sunset, when surrounding barren hills with occasional desertish vegetation start changing their color to a beautiful shade of orange with tendency to red, while Tracy Chapman is playing in the car stereo (in reality a cassette player). This happened on my first trip across the US in 1996 and I was driving from Phoenix where my dad used to live to Albuquerque where I intended to check out a record store I was in touch with its owners (only to find out there's a time zone limit between New Mexico and Arizona so I got there an hour later then I thought when the shop was already closed) and to this day I remember the overwhelming the sense of freedom driving on a vacant highway with nothing but nature around me and a long road ahead of me.
Another example of a song I always associate to a certain situation is "I Hope You're Unhappy" by Farside. In 1999 my band "This Side Up" was touring the United States and we were rotating a handful of tapes in the car. Our original guitar player couldn't come, so a longtime friend from the Roman HC scene stepped in. Adriano is his name. I don't think Adriano had more than 1 tape with him and whenever his tape would end up in the car stereo my attention would get caught by this beautiful song that I didn't know. And practically every time the song would play I'd ask him "Who's this?" and he'd reply "Farside." I must have asked him the same question 5 or 6 times, until I learned that the beautiful, slow, melodic song was Farside. When I hear this song, I think of that tour back in 1999.
So this time, 9 years and 3 US trips later, cars' stereos had cassette players replaced with CD players, but somehow I ended up not having any CDs with me so I listened to the radio. And about 3 or 4 times I heard this song that I liked, although I had no clue who it is by, so I wrote down the lyrics with intent to Google it up when I find the internet connection.
Indeed, once in my hotel room, I googled the lyrics and found out it's "How Far We've Come" by Matchbox 20. So now, when I hear this song, I think of my long crossing of the US, West to East, with my bike on the back seat and the right foot on the gas pedal, because I didn't have much time to do it.
Anyway, I wake up around 10 am, get the breakfast in the hotel's restaurant and get on the road again, one last time.
The day is sunny, which is quite some change from yesterday's wet weather. There are clouds here and there, but they're not threatening to rain at all.
I arrange to meet with Mrs. Allen to deliver her car. Her cousin is meeting me in a parking lot near an intersection and then I should follow him to her place. We're just outside Baltimore in a small village that not all the maps show.
I meet her cousin, get the car to its owner. She denotes a mark on the rear bumper that hadn't been there when she delivered the car in Los Angeles. Indeed, I noticed that scratch right at the parking lot and realized it was fresh (bits of paint were still there and would stick to your finger if you passed it over the scratch, indicating that it hadn't rained between the time scratch was done and the time I picked up the car in LA). Fortunately, I marked the scratch on the car document I had with me (a copy of it was in LA) so I was free of any liability. I picked up the car with the scratch and delivered it with the scratch - it's LA's branch responsability to deal with that. I just felt sorry for the lady that had left the car intact and got it with a scratch, but hopefully the insurance took care of that.
She thanked me for getting the vehicle to her and asked her cousin to give me a ride to Baltimore.
In Baltimore I first intended to take the Chinese bus (super cheap bus transfer service that connects China Towns of different US cities) but after realizing it will only leave in a couple of hours I take the Greyhound that is leaving right away.
It's interesting how the vast majority of people on the bus are black. Does it mean black people are generally poorer than white people, or they just like the public transportation better. I'd like to believe the latter, but I'm afraid it's what I said first .
On the way to NYC, the bus stops in Newark where a big number of people get dropped off.
Newark, famous for it's airport, considered one of the 3 major New York City airports (JFK, La Guardia and Newark) is not a place you'd like to take your tourist tour, get an ice cream and enjoy the city beauty. There's not much to enjoy in Newark. Although downtown gives a slightly better impression than the rest of the city, it mostly feels like a very sketchy place. I'm glad when we leave it behind and head to NYC.
In a bit over an hour, thanx to the notorious NYC traffic, I'm finally in New York City.
I get my huge box with the bike in it off the bus and try to find my way outside. Peter Ka is coming to pick me up (quite figuratively, cos he doesn't own a car) and I'm trying to find a place where he could spot me and also to figure out where the hell in Manhattan I am.
A couple of text messages later, Peter and I are hugging on the 34th Street, like two old friends who haven't seen each other in a lifetime. But he's been away to Colombia and I was gone for almost two months, so we sure had stories to tell each other.
We hail a cab and go towards Brooklyn. Yet, before we get there I still have to get off at 10th Street to retrieve a couple of packages I sent to Peter Ki that he's left with a concierge service down the road from his apartment.
With 2 boxes of stuff I've just picked up, the HUGE box with my bike inside and two pannier bags, we get off the cab at Peter's place and get in, in a few trips.
The place is super tidy. Apparently, Peter's Japanese roommate is back and there's been some huge cleaning today after the brunch they organized at their place. Plus, there are even some new pieces of furniture in the apartment.
Before everyone else arrives, Peter and I chat about respective trips and enjoy the leftovers from the brunch. Then all of a sudden the place is crowded because there are Peter and the two roommates, a roommates friend, the other roommates girlfriend, Peter's friend from college and I, with all my stuff.
Everyone decides to watch a movie called "Snakes On A Plane". The title doesn't promise a whole lot and indeed it proves to be pretty awful. I give up and check my e-mail instead. The two girls give up shortly after and in the end I believe only Peter and Kansan (his roommate - the spelling is most likely wrong) manage to watch the movie until the end.
Once everyone's gone I pack my bags and get some well deserved sleep on the couch downstairs.