Coming to America

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All is well.

We were up around 3 in the morning for a trance-like drive through a deserted Merseyside at dawn. The fond farewell to our parents was brief, but that’s the way it needed to be. As Manchester airport’s terminal 3 gradually came alive, our initial arrangements went smoothly, despite me somehow ending up with some unknown chap’s boarding pass as well as my own (I hope that whoever John Fayer was, he managed to get to Paris!)

The flight from Manchester to Heathrow was uneventful, the most inspiring thing being the bacon and egg panini that BA gave us for breakfast. Waiting patiently at terminal 5 for our departure, it still hadn’t sunk in that this thing was finally happening for real, after all the aeons of planning.

Our Boeing 747 was stifling hot when we took our seats – because Tim claims to be a bad flyer I gave him the window seat (though he seemed fine at take off to me!) This was my first time flying inter-continental and I marvelled at the films and television shows on offer on the tiny screen attached to the seat in front of me. Even better was the free beer we had as an aperitif to our curry. Even better was the free bottle of wine we had after it (185 ml – don’t get too excited!) It was also my first time in an aeroplane toilet and I had to wonder if the Mile High Club really is possible. While standing around afterwards for Tim to retake his seat, I had my first conversation with an American, wishing to know if I was in the queue for the lavatory. It was brief, but it was oddly reassuring, as if my brain finally figured out that this wasn’t just another of my trips to Malaga, it was much, much more.

We arrived at JFK 30 minutes early – a good omen? However, it was actually bloody raining – a bad omen? The captain reckoned it was due to clear up by the evening, but starting the round the world trip in what was essentially Manchester conditions with a little more humidity was a bit of a downer! Not quite a “drowner” though. Waiting in line to be processed was another stifling experience, but once we got to the bit where they photograph your iris and take your fingerprints, it was plain sailing.  

The subway was interesting – we bought a 7 day pass and thought we were doing really well until we missed our stop by one station. You’d think it would be perfectly simple to cross the platform and come straight back in the other direction, but oh no, not in this sprawling metropolis. We got through more platforms than a 70s disco experience! We’d have been better off walking, but eventually we made our connection and got to Grand Central station. By now, with big backpacks weighing us down, we were getting a bit huffy and puffy, but then, as we walked out into the street it hit us – New York City in all its unmistakable glory! Skyscrapers, yellow cabs and a million and one people on the move...in that moment it really felt like we’d made it.

The walk to the YMCA was fairly brief and check-in wasn’t a problem. As for the room, well, we always knew it would be bunkbeds, but we didn’t know it would be bunkbeds and only about two square feet of floor space! At first I felt that infamous feeling that every traveller must get, i.e. “How the bloody hell am I going to manage like this for the next six months of my life???” But then we put the football on the telly, fired up the computer, went and had a shower, and sure enough my home-away-from-home-instincts began to kick in. Plus the accommodation includes a complimentary beer at O’Neills bar round the corner – wayhay!

And that’s where we’re off to now – to get some grub and just enough ale in us to send us off into blissful snoozies tonight. It’s only 17:30 here, but back home it’s gone half ten, and we’ve been on the road since 4.

And so, I repeat that all is well.