A last minute jaunt outta NYC and into sunshine
I love the NYC subway system. The arteries of the city and we’re the blood and all that jazz. If it wasn’t for the ‘A’ to Howard Beach where I could catch the Air Train to JFK Airport, I would never make my flight. I’m always late for everything and this past weekend was no exception. It all started when I snoozed my alarm—an alarm I never use anymore—for a half an hour more than I should have.
For whatever reason, despite my lateness, I decided to check my email. There was a message from my friend Lauren who was in a bind. Her bag was snatched late the night before and she lost everything. Though she was able to get into her apartment thanks to her roommate, she had no keys to lock up on her way to work. So before heading out, I walked over and dropped off the spare set I had from the time I cat sat for her.
Once on the bus I made a conscious effort to not look at the time until I got to the airport. I figured my arriving on time was now left to fate and mass transit. Once on the ‘A’ train I was entertained by a homeless woman who was hard at work tearing down advertisements to my left. Nearby there was a sign from the M.T.A. warning about the illegality of vandalism. I don’t think she cared. To my amazement, after the bus, subway and Air Train, I made it to the airport nearly an hour early. Sweet.
This was a good thing in more ways than one because, although my ticket was from US Airways and I had been standing on the US Airways check-in line, my flight was actually being handled by United. A fact I was not ware of until I got to the counter. Thankfully I had no bags to check and United has those convenient self-serve ticket kiosks. This added time bonus allowed me time for a nice sausage biscuit, hash browns and tea from McDonald’s. Oh ya gotta love airport food choices.
I boarded my first flight. It was a tiny plane with about fourteen rows. I joked that it barely looked big enough to fit any people. To make it worse, the guy next to me thought he was in his living room. You know the type; slouched back, legs spread, feet on my side of the aisle. What’s next, his head on my shoulder? I understand in Japan this is commonplace. I however am not at all comfortable with this. Of course things would be different if this guy was a cute Asian girl.
Why am I going to Miami?
Well, to be honest … for no reason at all. OK, that’s not completely true. I went because my friend Helen asked me to go. She was on her way down for business and said she’d be bored. So she asked me and her friend Melissa to meet her. At first I was unsure about the expense of such a trip, but soon the fun factor would overrule the practicality of it all and off I went.
It was also clear that I needed to start taking real advantage of this self-employment status of mine. If I had a job—in an office cube with all of the frills, restrictions and aggravations—I’d never be able to do half the things I do now. Things like midday beer lunches with friends or an afternoon of watching movies or a hop-skip on down to Miami for a couple of days. It’s all part of my new freedom that I need to respect and cultivate.
Peeking out of the window to the world below, I realized something. Cookie-cutter suburban developments are ugly even from 17,000 feet up. They look like clumps of metal rivets on a poorly embroidered denim jacket. Unlike the older cities that helped to define our country and mixed culture, these parasites simply feed off of them and grow on their outer skin, offering little culture in return.
At Dulles Airport
To get from Terminal A where I arrived to Terminal C where I get my next flight, I had to take a shuttle. These things are like something out of a sci-fi movie. They’re huge and look like a hybrid of a military transport vehicle and a subway train. One in the terminal I feasted on an Aunt Annie’s Pretzel Dog and water. Again … airport food … yum. I think I inspired a couple of guys from Canada or South Dakota or somewhere to get the same thing.
