Taking the author’s tour of NYC for the next 4 days. I’ve been here before, so it’s not your “country boy in the big city” kinda deal that is trademarked with open mouths and schedules chock full of touristy sites. It’s still an amazing place, and it still leaves ME waddling in awe and inspiration. I’ve never come to New York on MY own, with no guide (read in: friend) to show ME the sites or take me to great little shops in Little Italy where stories linger through time (I’ll share that one later). But, I’m here, I have book events at The Tank on both Monday and Tuesday (where I will silently sing birthday wishes to ME, and will disallow others to do the same out loud), and I have brought the camera to let you see what I am seeing. In order to do this proper, I’ll just have to check in as I pass through the hotel and update posts daily. So, what you read now will have more later. I’ll make sure to let MY Facebook friends know when the updates are in, and I’ll be dumping all of my photos there as well.
And so begins Day 1.
6:30 am: I wake up, even though I don’t need to get up for another 45 minutes. I’m a travel geek, and have, on many occasions, departed from quality sleep to get things going, jumping up and down like a kid on Christmas (albeit at 4 am, 3 hours before mom & dad are comitted to waking). Coffee! Quick! I manage half a cup before I realize I didn’t need the caffeine to begin with.
8:00 am: Alice drops me off at MARTA. I make it to Five Points, and switch to the Southbound train, where the automated voice informs us all that the train is going Northbound. I quickly send the all important message to Twitter (& Facebook): “Oh MARTA, you do live to entertain. Telling ppl on southbound train that its going north. Very cheeky.” I realize at this point that I needed more caffeine.
9:00 am: I arrive at the airport, where I realize at check in that airlines have changed their luggage check in policies. No longer is it free for the 1st bag. Now you pay $15…IF, IF that is you meet the size and weight requirements. Ugh. Are you kidding me? I should have figured out a way to just carry on. I would have threatened the lady that I would send me pet dragon out of hiding to destroy the minions of Air Tran, but she was really nice. No worries Sandra, here’s my card. Abuse ME.
10:20 am: I board the plane, sitting across the aisle from a young woman, who felt it necessary to bring her floatation devices with her. Both of them. They seemed to fit pretty snug in her shirt, and I don’t know what her plan was to deploy them. Anyway, she slept the whole trip with her mouth wide open. And I mean, she slept. Hard. Comatose like. Through the take off, through the landing, and through most every other inconvenience in between. I thought of grabbing her once we got off the plan and suggesting that she steer clear of any opportunity to fall asleep in the presence of her fellow college students. But then I thought she probably already had, and if I looked hard enough, I could probably find the eveidence online.
1:13 pm: I grab a yellow machine of death for MY march into oblivion–or Manhattan, whichever came first.
“Hello Mr. Cab driver. Please don’t make me sick today. Kthanx,” I said in a Tweet. He didn’t listen. Instead, he drove at breakneck speed through the barriers of time & space. Somehow I managed to coerce him into dropping me off a block shy of the hotel, rather than sit in traffic and sneak up on the hotel a foot at the time (note: cabs DO NOT charge by the foot).
1:47 pm: I am at the hotel! YAY! Here’s a few images from the 24th floor. The ironic placement of McGraw Hill does not escape ME (though that is not entirely due to the publishing aspect, but because of sister Ali, who was convinced that Faith Hill & Tim McGraw had formed a business).