Farewell NYC - Jan 2015

I was leaving New York again in an emotional state. I'm on edge right now (on the plane to London). I've been sleep deprived for the past week and have been thrown into a sensory overload. NYC has been a whirlwind of drinking, spending loads on drinking, recovering from drinking, only to drink again when hangovers wears off. 

It was my last day in NYC and I vowed to make the most of it. The others in the group was not leaving until Monday or Tuesday. I think I was leaving at a good time to salvage Sunday afternoon in London before it's back to work. 

I've only slept four hours but dragged myself out of bed to go to a diner. There was one around the corner from the Pod Hotel. I had a pancake and french toast with bacon and scrambled eggs. The food was cold and the coffee wasn't great but no matter. I went back to the room to shower and pack up my suitcase. 

My padlock was broken so I had to get a new one from Duane Reade. After being outside without gloves for ten minutes, I got windburn on my knuckles. The cold air can be so cruel. It looks like I've punched someone.

I meet the others at the Walforf and since they were drinking in the bar, I went to Grand Central to look around for an hour. Went into Strawberry. There was nothing I liked. It was a jungle of cheap clothing. 

I was in no mood to shop. I was a zombie. I could sleep for a hundred years. I could barely see with my eyes. But I went along with the others The Quays, an Irish pub in Astoria Queens. What the heck-if I was going to while away my last hours in NYC, it might as well be amongst friends. Pretty much doing what we had been doing before but now I have a taste for Guinness. As my friends say, NY Irish pubs have better Guinness than London. 

It was good to get out of Manhattan. I've never been to Queens before. The streets had a lot of snow and some cars were buried in it. 

The Quays was on a corner on a Main Street of Queens. I walked down the street for a bit but went back to the pub because it was too cold. 

I was explaining the story about how I got a bit of attitude from the baggage handler at the Pod because he misunderstood that I needed him to hold my suitcase for a moment while I buy a lock and then it goes back in the storeroom. He walked away and after I reminded him he was cross, saying I should have told him not to throw away the ticket. Then I was compelled to say: "You sold me the air shuttle ticket and told me to come back at 6.45pm." Why would I want my suitcase back so early??? I said to Emily. "What a dick."

"Now you sound like a true New Yorker."

And on that note, my time in the US has come to an end. Megan called a car and I was taken back to the Pod. 

I rested in the car and at the boarding gate. NYC had drifted away and I was ready to go home. I couldn't wait to see Grant and get back to my life in London. I miss Zumba and I was getting thick around the waist. I was consumed by NYC and I needed to feel normal again. 

I'm glad I stayed at the Pod instead of the Waldorf. I no longer needed to worry finding my way around or tipping in NY anymore. Life can be simple again. 

As much as I enjoyed it, the gleam of NYC has worn off on this third visit. I have come back with only a few cheap t shirts, one ridiculously expensive shirt from Anthropologie, stove top stuffing and  toiletries. No way a much as I brought back from the previous trips!