New York
So. I have officially arrived in New York. And, truly, there isn't much else I'm doing right now so I may as well post the full story, boring as it is. Here goes, in any case.
I am woken up, still groggy from the pathetic two hours or so of sleep grudgingly attained the night previously. Haphazardly checking and double-checking with my sleep-blurred mind my bags, I am rushed to get my various belongings together before hurrying to the airport. It still hasn't sunk in that I'm leaving. It still hasn't sunk in that I've left. But in a sense it's much more like I've arrived, and that the time before was simply laying the ground work for a new beginning. But I climb into the car, crushed by my luggage, and look through the window to see what I can of California. Not much meets the eye; the sky is foggy and the roads we drive on are certainly not very scenic. But sooner than I would have thought we pull in to the airport parking garage and haul my bags to the terminal for check-in. After snaking through the line of morning travelers, I confirm my flights and check my two larger bags. The system and I do battle for a time but eventually the transaction is successful and I proceed to security armed with my boarding passes, passport, and remaining two carry-on bags. Here I feel a tap on my shoulder, so I turn around. I blink. I blink again. And then I break into the biggest and widest smile I've had in weeks--Ryan has provided the best surprise he possibly could have, a visit and seeing-off of my friend Kymmo, resident of Reno, Nevada whom I have not seen for over a year. I give him a big hug and we happily chatter for a time. Yet soon--far too soon--the reprieve is over and I must say my goodbyes and cross the no-man's-land of security, beyond which point I will no longer be able to see my family and friend. After final hugs, photos, and goodbyes, I cross to the point after which I will then be completely, entirely on my own for the first time in my life. And yet it is marked by as unceremonious a marker as any, for I completely botch the security check--I take my laptop out of its case but don't think to do the same with my DVD player, which is located at the bottom of my roller bag. I also forget to take off my shoes, and my backpack needed a hand search, but eventually I am cleared, and pass through harried at the delay but otherwise intact. Now a new adventure begins--finding the right gate. I make my way to the gate printed on my boarding pass and sit down, ready for a slight wait.
I wait for maybe ten minutes before I decide to find an arrival/departure board to double check that my flight is indeed due to take off from this gate. As it turns out--it doesn't. The flight was moved to a different gate, so I quickly find the new one and discover it is currently boarding at the very moment. Needless to say, I get in line and thank my own precautious nature. I soon find my seat and settle in. In the seat to the right is a good-looking, twenty-something boy. He's very quiet, and was so for the duration of the flight. To my left, however, was a slightly ditsy grandmother, flying home to Florida. She had no queams about talking or asking for help with the various purchaseable flight entertainment luxuries. She and I talked on and off during the flight to Atlanta, and in the periods of silence I enjoyed the plane music--you could make your own playlist by selecting tracks from a number of CDs they had available. I ended up listening to Metallica's Death Magnetic and Lily Allen's It's Not Me It's You. After about three and a half hours of flight time we touched down in Georgia, and the guy to my right called his fiancee or wife--now I noticed the ring on his left hand. All-in-all, the two were pleasant enough flightmates. At this point I gathered my various bags from their respective crannies and disembarked in search of lunch and my next flight.
I wander the airport with no particular destination in mind, just on the look out for food. Eventually I find a food court and decide on Checkers, the Georgia equivalent of Rally's in California. One double cheeseburger aptly named the "Big Buford" and a vanilla shake later, I set out again with renewed focus in finding my next flight. A very long walk later and I'm still not yet at gate B2. Tired of walking with all my luggage in tow, I decide to check another arrival/departure board before I go any further. Low and behold--it's been moved. Again. And into a completely different section of the airport. I ask an employee for directions and then take the escalator down to the trains, and wait for the one leading to Concourse A. My flight now leaves from Gate A20, and it is easy enough to find. I settle into a seat in preparation for my hour layover until boarding and cheerily unpack my new laptop and put on some Porcupine Tree while going online to pass the time. An announcement states that due to traffic delays, my flight will be delayed another hour, so I call my roommate and let her know, since she is to pick me up from the airport. Yet time slips by faster than I would have thought, and before I think again about it boarding begins. I hurriedly pack up my laptop and board this new plane. This time, I have a window seat, so I am looking forward to this segment of the trip more than I did the first. A bit of confusion befalls me when I get to my seat, since it is occupied and both the person in it and the two others in the row adamantly declare that I must be wrong. Yet clearly, my seat is 38F, and someone is sitting in it. After I put my suitcase in the overhead compartment, however, the lady in my seat exclaims that she is in fact supposed to be in seat 30F, and hurries off. Before I can sit down, though, the girl in the middle seat tries to talk me into trading seats with her boyfriend so that they could sit together. While normally I would have no problem with this, I finally had a window seat this flight! and I hardly ever manage to secure such; her boyfriend also had a middle seat across from us and up one row. I decline her plea and take my seat. Good riddance.
Perhaps half an hour passes by. Then finally our plane is towed near the take-off strip. Yet here we wait again, and minutes stretch out longer and longer. After almost an hour, the captain makes an announcement--due to bad weather conditions in New York, our flight is delayed yet again. And fifteen minutes later, another announcement is made: severe thunderstorms and strong winds have caused the New York airspace to completely close until further notice. As could be expected, and angry protest sweeps the cabin, yet there is nothing to be done--we can't fly when we can't land. We are told another announcement will be made in an hour, and to make any calls we need to, correspondingly. I phone my poor roommate and tell her the news, then think of what I could do to pass the time. I am without any books, my DVD player is not in easy access, my gameboy is low on batteries, and my laptop can be frustrating to get back in its case so isn't viable to use when I might need to turn it off and stow it in short notice. So I think of who else I can call that has nothing better to do than talk to me about nothing and is loud enough to hear in the noisy airplane cabin. The answer, sadly, comes quickly--Scott. I call him and, sure enough, he picks up and we talk pointlessly for about 20 minutes before he's called away to do chores. I call a few other people with no more success, and eventually settle into a sleepy stupor. Now the pilot makes another announcement--due to the request of a passenger, the plane will be towed back to the gate and passengers will be given the opportunity to deplane. Yes--the request of one, single passenger. While arrangements are made to be towed, ANOTHER announcement is made--yet this one, unlike the others, finally contains some good news: The airport in New York has finally cleared our flight and we will depart in twelve minutes, at the agreement of the request-passenger. I inform my roommate once again and quickly we are in the air. Yet at this point the flight has been delayed three hours, and nobody is very happy. This time I do get out my laptop, and I enjoy Evergrey for just over an hour until my laptop dies with a sigh and a final few blinks. I enjoy the sights of the city lights beneath the plane when they're there to see, and otherwise do nothing. The Soloist is playing on the plane TVs, but I don't have the plane headphones with two jacks and don't feel much of an inclination to watch it anyway. After a long time, peanuts and ginger ale, the pilot announces the descent to New York and the bright city lights come into view for the first time. It's pretty amazing, how much electricity and streetlamps can be packed into such a small (from the aerial persective) area. The streets zigzag across the land in parallel lines, all straight lines and abrupt angles, interrupted only by the Hudson River or patches of trees. We fly directly over Citi Field and the baseball diamond looks puny, yet when compared with the houses next to it, must be simply enormous. We touch down in La Guardia Airport.
I take my things with me and set off for the baggage claim after texting my roommate that at long last, I finally made it to New York. And that's the truth--I'm in New York! She texts back to meet at the baggage claim, and meet we do in a flurry of hugs and hellos. Then we go to watch for my two checked bags. Many false alarms and some concern later, we identify the two nondescript bags and make our way to their car, some Chinese food graciously waiting for me as dinner. A relatively short drive later, filled with talk of skunks, roadkill, and rice, we pull up at their house in Suffern, tired and exhausted at 2:30AM but intact and thrilled. We get ready for sleep and nod off, leaving only today left to account for. Yet typing this has taken ages, so I think I'll stop here, satisfied in my long-awaited break from home, and, to a point, the safety of familiarity. Life from here on out is a blank slate.
My new laptop. :D
http://www.bestbuy.com/site/olspage.jsp?skuId=9459711&type=product&id=1218108085016
I am woken up, still groggy from the pathetic two hours or so of sleep grudgingly attained the night previously. Haphazardly checking and double-checking with my sleep-blurred mind my bags, I am rushed to get my various belongings together before hurrying to the airport. It still hasn't sunk in that I'm leaving. It still hasn't sunk in that I've left. But in a sense it's much more like I've arrived, and that the time before was simply laying the ground work for a new beginning. But I climb into the car, crushed by my luggage, and look through the window to see what I can of California. Not much meets the eye; the sky is foggy and the roads we drive on are certainly not very scenic. But sooner than I would have thought we pull in to the airport parking garage and haul my bags to the terminal for check-in. After snaking through the line of morning travelers, I confirm my flights and check my two larger bags. The system and I do battle for a time but eventually the transaction is successful and I proceed to security armed with my boarding passes, passport, and remaining two carry-on bags. Here I feel a tap on my shoulder, so I turn around. I blink. I blink again. And then I break into the biggest and widest smile I've had in weeks--Ryan has provided the best surprise he possibly could have, a visit and seeing-off of my friend Kymmo, resident of Reno, Nevada whom I have not seen for over a year. I give him a big hug and we happily chatter for a time. Yet soon--far too soon--the reprieve is over and I must say my goodbyes and cross the no-man's-land of security, beyond which point I will no longer be able to see my family and friend. After final hugs, photos, and goodbyes, I cross to the point after which I will then be completely, entirely on my own for the first time in my life. And yet it is marked by as unceremonious a marker as any, for I completely botch the security check--I take my laptop out of its case but don't think to do the same with my DVD player, which is located at the bottom of my roller bag. I also forget to take off my shoes, and my backpack needed a hand search, but eventually I am cleared, and pass through harried at the delay but otherwise intact. Now a new adventure begins--finding the right gate. I make my way to the gate printed on my boarding pass and sit down, ready for a slight wait.
I wait for maybe ten minutes before I decide to find an arrival/departure board to double check that my flight is indeed due to take off from this gate. As it turns out--it doesn't. The flight was moved to a different gate, so I quickly find the new one and discover it is currently boarding at the very moment. Needless to say, I get in line and thank my own precautious nature. I soon find my seat and settle in. In the seat to the right is a good-looking, twenty-something boy. He's very quiet, and was so for the duration of the flight. To my left, however, was a slightly ditsy grandmother, flying home to Florida. She had no queams about talking or asking for help with the various purchaseable flight entertainment luxuries. She and I talked on and off during the flight to Atlanta, and in the periods of silence I enjoyed the plane music--you could make your own playlist by selecting tracks from a number of CDs they had available. I ended up listening to Metallica's Death Magnetic and Lily Allen's It's Not Me It's You. After about three and a half hours of flight time we touched down in Georgia, and the guy to my right called his fiancee or wife--now I noticed the ring on his left hand. All-in-all, the two were pleasant enough flightmates. At this point I gathered my various bags from their respective crannies and disembarked in search of lunch and my next flight.
I wander the airport with no particular destination in mind, just on the look out for food. Eventually I find a food court and decide on Checkers, the Georgia equivalent of Rally's in California. One double cheeseburger aptly named the "Big Buford" and a vanilla shake later, I set out again with renewed focus in finding my next flight. A very long walk later and I'm still not yet at gate B2. Tired of walking with all my luggage in tow, I decide to check another arrival/departure board before I go any further. Low and behold--it's been moved. Again. And into a completely different section of the airport. I ask an employee for directions and then take the escalator down to the trains, and wait for the one leading to Concourse A. My flight now leaves from Gate A20, and it is easy enough to find. I settle into a seat in preparation for my hour layover until boarding and cheerily unpack my new laptop and put on some Porcupine Tree while going online to pass the time. An announcement states that due to traffic delays, my flight will be delayed another hour, so I call my roommate and let her know, since she is to pick me up from the airport. Yet time slips by faster than I would have thought, and before I think again about it boarding begins. I hurriedly pack up my laptop and board this new plane. This time, I have a window seat, so I am looking forward to this segment of the trip more than I did the first. A bit of confusion befalls me when I get to my seat, since it is occupied and both the person in it and the two others in the row adamantly declare that I must be wrong. Yet clearly, my seat is 38F, and someone is sitting in it. After I put my suitcase in the overhead compartment, however, the lady in my seat exclaims that she is in fact supposed to be in seat 30F, and hurries off. Before I can sit down, though, the girl in the middle seat tries to talk me into trading seats with her boyfriend so that they could sit together. While normally I would have no problem with this, I finally had a window seat this flight! and I hardly ever manage to secure such; her boyfriend also had a middle seat across from us and up one row. I decline her plea and take my seat. Good riddance.
Perhaps half an hour passes by. Then finally our plane is towed near the take-off strip. Yet here we wait again, and minutes stretch out longer and longer. After almost an hour, the captain makes an announcement--due to bad weather conditions in New York, our flight is delayed yet again. And fifteen minutes later, another announcement is made: severe thunderstorms and strong winds have caused the New York airspace to completely close until further notice. As could be expected, and angry protest sweeps the cabin, yet there is nothing to be done--we can't fly when we can't land. We are told another announcement will be made in an hour, and to make any calls we need to, correspondingly. I phone my poor roommate and tell her the news, then think of what I could do to pass the time. I am without any books, my DVD player is not in easy access, my gameboy is low on batteries, and my laptop can be frustrating to get back in its case so isn't viable to use when I might need to turn it off and stow it in short notice. So I think of who else I can call that has nothing better to do than talk to me about nothing and is loud enough to hear in the noisy airplane cabin. The answer, sadly, comes quickly--Scott. I call him and, sure enough, he picks up and we talk pointlessly for about 20 minutes before he's called away to do chores. I call a few other people with no more success, and eventually settle into a sleepy stupor. Now the pilot makes another announcement--due to the request of a passenger, the plane will be towed back to the gate and passengers will be given the opportunity to deplane. Yes--the request of one, single passenger. While arrangements are made to be towed, ANOTHER announcement is made--yet this one, unlike the others, finally contains some good news: The airport in New York has finally cleared our flight and we will depart in twelve minutes, at the agreement of the request-passenger. I inform my roommate once again and quickly we are in the air. Yet at this point the flight has been delayed three hours, and nobody is very happy. This time I do get out my laptop, and I enjoy Evergrey for just over an hour until my laptop dies with a sigh and a final few blinks. I enjoy the sights of the city lights beneath the plane when they're there to see, and otherwise do nothing. The Soloist is playing on the plane TVs, but I don't have the plane headphones with two jacks and don't feel much of an inclination to watch it anyway. After a long time, peanuts and ginger ale, the pilot announces the descent to New York and the bright city lights come into view for the first time. It's pretty amazing, how much electricity and streetlamps can be packed into such a small (from the aerial persective) area. The streets zigzag across the land in parallel lines, all straight lines and abrupt angles, interrupted only by the Hudson River or patches of trees. We fly directly over Citi Field and the baseball diamond looks puny, yet when compared with the houses next to it, must be simply enormous. We touch down in La Guardia Airport.
I take my things with me and set off for the baggage claim after texting my roommate that at long last, I finally made it to New York. And that's the truth--I'm in New York! She texts back to meet at the baggage claim, and meet we do in a flurry of hugs and hellos. Then we go to watch for my two checked bags. Many false alarms and some concern later, we identify the two nondescript bags and make our way to their car, some Chinese food graciously waiting for me as dinner. A relatively short drive later, filled with talk of skunks, roadkill, and rice, we pull up at their house in Suffern, tired and exhausted at 2:30AM but intact and thrilled. We get ready for sleep and nod off, leaving only today left to account for. Yet typing this has taken ages, so I think I'll stop here, satisfied in my long-awaited break from home, and, to a point, the safety of familiarity. Life from here on out is a blank slate.
My new laptop. :D
http://www.bestbuy.com/site/olspage.jsp?skuId=9459711&type=product&id=1218108085016