NYC

Sue didn’t adjust at all well to New York.  I asked her how she liked the atmosphere, to which she replied, "Do you mean THE SMELL?" 

It's true.  Put a few hundred thousand people together in Times Square on a sultry summer day, and you've got a LOT of body odour, bad breath, and farts being generated there.  It's like going into the bathroom after someone on a lager bender has had their first poo of the day.  The stench could actually spin you around and pin you to a wall if you thought about it too much. 

There are other smells too, from the vendors of roasted nuts, hot-dogs and knishes that are everywhere.  They're not all exactly complementary.  It's like someone has stuck a fetid old bag on your head, and you're not sure what that bag once had in it, but you're sure that whatever it was, it was once ALIVE. 

Plus, I was deeply unhappy about the knishes.  This was because I couldn’t find one.  On my return to New York City I attempted to buy one, but entirely unsuccessfully.  When we were here with Brownie, I was curious about them but never asked a street vendor for one because I am pretty clueless and had no idea what a knish was.  I could've been presented with a squid on a stick, and been forced to eat it in front of the savvy New Yorkers who would have pointed and laughed. 

I mean, let's face it - the word knish sounds pretty unappealing.  It sounds like you've just sneezed.  "Honey, could you pass me a tissue?  I have knish all over my face." 

So I asked Jim and Mechelle while in Edinburgh.  They are Trustworthy Americans and unlikely to lie to me about these things.  Mechelle informed me that it's some sort of deep-fried potato thing.  Thus convinced, I felt that eating a knish was a valid New York Experience and I should try it. 

But that's only if you can find the things!  I tried knish vendors all over New York who all shook their  heads at me sadly and offered hotdogs instead.  I began to fear some sort of plot. Or possibly you can only buy a knish if you are one of The Initiated.  Perhaps you buy a knish, not by ASKING for a knish but by saying something like, "The Eagle flies at dawn.  Today is a good day for Meeting Old Friends."  To which the vendor would hand over a knish and reply, "I hear it is old cold in Vladivostock in April," by which he actually means, "That will be 2 dollars and do you want ketchup?" 

It was very traumatic, but I took comfort from the fact that Sue was having an even worse time.  She has  tramped up and down and around Manhattan with my nephew Luke, in search of a wooden baseball bat for under $20.  This has turned into something akin to the Quest for the Holy Grail, or my fruitless attempt for a knish. 

Caro and I arrived in New York one day ahead of Sue, landing at Newark and taking a taxi back to the Milford Plaza, which was where we stayed with Lisa Brown.  The flight itself was a nightmare, in that I found myself squeezed into a seat next to a hugely fat man who kept dropping things and asking me to pick them up.  He probably fancied me.  These looks of mine are such a trial.

On arrival we did very little.  That is entirely our ethos on this holiday.  We also assumed that as soon as Sue and Luke arrived we would be doing lots of walking as those two wanted to have the New York Experience in Five Days.  Caro and I had tried this one year earlier and found that it's also a good way to bring on the Fatal Heart Attack Experience, but there’s no telling some people.  Fortunately for us, they are early risers.  If you’ve been paying attention you will know that, for her, early means “before eleven”.  So Luke and Sue did lots of tourist before lunchtime while Caro enjoyed room service in bed. 

Caro loves room service.  Every morning she would order breakfast, and every morning would be beside herself with delight because some kind person would bring her scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and fried potatoes while we watched Jerry Springer.  (“This morning we expose people cheating on their spouses with kitchen appliances!”)  It was a nice, relaxing way to start the day - except for the morning I decided I wanted blueberry pancakes with maple syrup.  I let Caro order for me and I was glad I did because her phone conversation went something like this.
CARO:  Ah, yes, I’d like to order breakfast please?  Yes, that’s right.  I’d like one All-American, with bacon and potato and coffee.  Is that ok?  Yes.  And also one blueberry pancakes?  Yes.  Yes.  That’s right.  Blueberry.  Blue-berry.  Yes.  Blueberry.  Blueberry.  The pancakes.  Yes.  Yes.   Yes.  Yes.  (Pause).   Blueberry.  (Pause).  Blueberry.  (Pause).   I HAVEN’T FINISHED.   Blueberry.  Blueberry.  Blueberry.  Blueberry.  Blueberry.  Blueberry.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  Blueberry.

Then after she got off the phone:

CARO:  Effwit.

Despite this setback to our breakfast routine, we recovered sufficiently to join Sue and Luke on a trip to the  World Trade Centre, but didn't go up it.  Our thinking was, “Once you’ve been up one tower you’ve been up them all.”  We had done towers in Auckland and Sydney and felt we had done the tower thing.  Besides, we could always do it some other time, right?  That’s the sound of hindsight you hear banging about in the background there.  So Caro and I left Sue and Luke to explore the Twin Towers despite the fact that Sue suffers from vertigo, and so saw the marvellous view of that sprawling metropolis while clinging to the floor.

If you think that's bad, bear in mind she had been up the Empire State Building the previous night, so perhaps not the best holiday idea for Sue there. 

OTHER BAD HOLIDAY IDEAS: 
1. A week in the Amazon Basin for People Who Are Afraid of Spiders. 
2. A tour through Ethiopia for Anorexics. 
3. A fun-packed holiday in the casinos of Las Vegas for epileptics. 
4. An adventure holiday potholing for claustrophobics. 
5. An exciting week in Hedonism for Nuns. 

Conversely, Luke just loved it, and took photos of everything.  He loved the Chrysler Building best, and it seemed to pop wherever we went - "Oops! There it is again!"   The only thing that bothered me about the Chrysler Building is that the top of it always seems to be knocked off in movies.  Godzilla took it out, a  meteor smacked it in Armageddon, and I believe the aliens blasted it in Independence Day.  I really feel the New Yorkers should give serious thought to lowering it by about 20 feet to save it this sort of abuse.