Hostile Traveler

I’m a little bit behind in updates at this point, so I’ll be working on catching up over the next few posts. I left NYC last Friday and am currently in Chicago, but I wanted to post a bit about what has happened in between. Right about now is where you should imagine one of those wavy flashback routines they do on TV or something.

My last night in New York City, the weather was great and I had some time to wander around the area. Times Square in the summertime is a magnet for tourist, freaks, and sometimes both. Really, it’s one of those sensory overload places where everything is noise, neon, and LEDs. With that said, there’s a kind of beauty in the chaos that you can enjoy for 2-3 seconds before someone bumps into you and curses you out in a foreign language. Anyways, here’s a few shots during the day:

…and some at night:

Note the mob of people in the last one. Between the restaurants, Broadway shows, and everything else, the whole area was jammed with people. Still, after going to Hong Kong and Tokyo, this kind of action is child’s play. Okay, except that some of the people are taller than my shoulder.

Times Square is a very different place now than it used to be in the 70s and 80s, at least from what I’ve read. It used to be a very gritty area, full of peepshows, adult bookstores, strip clubs, and so on. It’s since been sanitized and Disney-fied, and there are only a few vestiges of what used to be on the fringes of the area. While I’m sure the generic tourist places like the Hard Rock Cafe and such are raking in the bucks, there’s something to be said about seedy places. At the very least, they’re a lot more interesting to blog about.

I had intended on taking some pictures of the last peep shows and such in the area, but decided against the idea. I’m not really big on bringing home souvenirs, and that includes my own teeth in a bag. Really, I just didn’t like the idea of getting my ass beat for taking a photo of the wrong place. I’m not a real journalist by any stretch, and I sorta like being able to chew with my own teeth. So, no photos for you. Sorry. Still, in a strange way I was happy to see that there’s still some grit to the city, even though it’s being slowly whittled away by the moral police.

On Friday, the class I was attending ended early, so I decided to head to Penn station to see if I could get an earlier train out of the city. I’m not terribly experienced with the whole train thing, so I agreed to take a ticket for a much earlier regional train. Now I know better. The Acela has spoiled me. It’s quiet, has beer, comfortable, has beer, fast, and oh yeah - it has beer. The regional line, in comparison, is like something you’d see in Mexico. Think 70s-era upholstery, loud, packed with people, and decidedly slow. I wound up having to walk through 5 cars before I found a seat, and almost came to blows with some hippie shithead over luggage space taken over by his 5 ratty duffel bags full of crap. Incidentally - for you wired hippies that may be reading this - patchouli oil does not cover the smell of stale weed and bong water - it just adds another layer to the funk. Cut the shit and take a shower.

In an attempt to tune out the surroundings, I worked on my notebook praying-mantis style in the cramped seat. Of course, YASA (Yet Another Suited Assclown) next to me spends the entire trip on his cellphone doing cold calls. He’s an insurance salesman, which in itself is enough to make me want to bludgeon him to death, and the cellphone isn’t helping. Okay, count to 10, put on headphones, tune out with music.

Fast forward a couple hours. YASA taps me on the shoulder and is saying some shit while pointing at his phone. I take off my headphones and he says, “My battery died.” Even though I want to say, “About fucking time!” I keep it to myself and gloat internally. Then he has the balls to say, “Do you mind if I plug into your computer?”

Now, murder is frowned upon in civilized cultures, but sometimes there are justifiable reasons for suddenly terminating someones life. I think the guy could tell by the look in my eyes that a little part of me inside snapped when he asked, and he started to recoil a bit before I could even open my mouth. While I don’t recall exactly what I said, I believe I started out by politely asking, “Are you fucking kidding me?” and it sorta went from there.

My new friend got off at the next stop. I don’t know if it was the stop he wanted to get off at, but he probably figured it was a good idea. It’s a pity, really, because I feel like we had a connection there. It may have wound up being a connection of my hand and his throat, but it was a connection nonetheless.

At any rate, the rest of the trip was uneventful, and I was home long enough to get my stuff together to head to Chicago this week for yet another class. But, that’s another story.