New York, New York.
After our final night in Boston we arose from our Cambridge hotel and caught the oldest underground in the world and headed to the South Boston train station to jump on an Amtrak fast train and head to New York City, NY. The Rabbit informed us that the NY – Boston commute was the only commute that turned a profit for the national railway company. Wow – what an anorak.
The journey took us back down the New England coast through some ground we had already covered with the Truck of Justice, this time our driver was an American civil servant and just like Skuzzlefark he wasn’t for diverting.
The Don, who had become the morning driver across the States so he could deal with a latent case of travel sickness, was finding the train journey all a bit nauseating. He went up and asked the driver if he could have a go to relieve the nausea, producing his union ticket in the process, but the driver was having none of it the bloody scab. So he returned to his allocated seat and proceeded to change to the same colour as his Celtic strip.
The boys arrived at Penn Station and took the subway towards our palatial East Village apartment on 2nd Avenue. In hindsight, maybe a cab might have been the better option. We followed the Lurker who had become a semi-regular visitor to the Big Apple and had a fair idea of what line to catch. However, six blokes in tow carrying their recent lives on their backs across town meant that the journey slowly wore away at both their spinal cords and the patience of both the Road Trippers and the subway’s notorious commuters.
You can imagine Skuzzlefark’s face when he discovered that the Lurker had taken us on the wrong line and we had to ascend even more flights of stairs. The only thing that collectively brought a smile to most of our faces was the knowledge that JT had to drag his 600 kilogram bag with wheels up four flights of stairs after he lost his sherper in the Manhattan traffic.
Once we reached our destination we were told that our apartment wouldn’t be ready for an hour - so we headed down to a little bar on St Marks Place called Luca Bar. JT had been here before and while we were all a bit knackered from the trip down from Boston, we ate our food, drank our drinks and then headed back to the apartment to freshen up and prepare for our final assault on the greatest mountain of them all. New York City.
Upon receiving our keys to the apartment we opened up the door to the fifth floor apartment to be greeted by a classy New York two storey apartment that had a modern kitchen, tall ceilings, classic antique furniture, including an arnoir (see Seinfeld), two bathrooms and a roof top balcony. It was everything you could ask for in a great city like this, except three double beds, meaning one of the boys would have to jump in the cot with someone else.
Now while most women would have no problem sleeping together, and indeed most men would have no problem with women sleeping together either, the unwritten rule of all men is to have some distance between us when it comes to sleeping arrangements.
We’ll happily pat each other on the arse after someone takes a catch in slips, or kicks a goal from 50 meters on the angle, and some sports like Rugby League we clearly invented just so men could have the chance to lie on top of one other. But when it came to the bedroom, proximity is strictly off limits.
Thankfully after a couple of quick phone calls, additional bedding was arranged and “Awkward City” was avoided...or was it?
Once the boys had freshened up, they caught a cab across to Greenwich Village and took in a little Italian restaurant on the corner of Bleecker Street and McDougal.
Following our over-priced, under-performing meal (think Lygon Street with American accents) we headed across the road to a small bar the sat below the quiet wet Monday night Village streets. Our main purpose was to watch the presidential candidates being interviewed during the half time interval of an American institution - Monday Night Football.
It was a let down. In the end, we should have guessed, you’re not going to get much of an in-depth political debate when your interviewer is the American version of Sandy Roberts. Following the half-time interview we convinced our young lonely Irish barman to change the channel and try and locate the running of the race that stops the nation - and five slightly pissed Aussies in a bar in the Village - the mighty Melbourne Cup. Once located, JT and Skuzzlefark felt that this was far too much Australiana for one night and headed up the stairs in search of a new location. The Rabbit headed home and that left a dangerous combination in the Lurker, The Don, The Doctor, the Mikey, an Irishman and empty bar full of liquor to sample.
Our barman who was on until 4am was keen to get this five man party started and literally said, “lads I’m going out for smoke, the bar’s yours.”
It was like being in the best stocked Qantas Club you’ve ever seen, without the cold pies.
Meanwhile, across town, Miranda and Charlotte were finding it difficult to come to terms with living a Manhattan lifestyle where all the best men in New York were either gay or …… sorry wrong story line.
Meanwhile on the other side of 7th Avenue, JT and Skuzzlefark had managed to talk their way into one of the Village’s more exclusive bars aptly named Employees Only.
Inside the boys ran into some of Manhattan’s cooler kids. They also ran into a B-Grade celebrity comedian from aunty back home who surprisingly was not impressed with the Road Tripper’s heroic tales. Just to ruin the celebrity’s night The Doctor chose to baffle him with the most boring details he could muster in a conversation that would make Grandpa Simpson proud.
Realising that this was the Aussies for Obama tour and no additional extras were required, the boys moved on up the bar to people who deserved to be a part of the Road Trip You Can Believe In. And it didn’t take long. Meet independent movie director and his girlfriend that ran the Louis Vuitton store on the Upper East Side.
After the Melbourne Cup had run its race the other boys joined the fun activities that were being had with the Village Elite. It was like the Village Elite meets the Village Idiots. The Don, over an few martini’s, was impressed with some dude’s latest iphone program that enables democrat voters to go onto the www.barackobama.com website and download a list of contact numbers of potential voters in your area to call and get out to vote.
JT got the latest on local fashion from an “insider”, Skuzzlefark spent most of the night knocking back invitations for Sex in the City and the Doctor, Lurker and the Mikey amused themselves with tales of wonderment that would only make sense if you to had much to drink.
All in all, it was good preparation for the big election day that would occur in less than five hours. We had tasted a little bit of what New York had to offer....and we liked it.
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