(Disclaimer - Sarah, I stole a bunch of your pictures (again). Hope it's okay. Let me know if it's not)
I have the worst case of post-trip blues. This after-fun-depression is only equal to the first time I had gone to California. Not 'kinda', but just as much. And that journey was a two week trip - this one lasted for only three days. So I'm going to blog about it. Gotta tell the story somewhere (again - my friends on this side of the pond are probably getting sick of it, by this point).
Am I crazy for hopping on an 8 hour flight, just to go to two DMB shows? Possibly. But am I deranged for putting myself through a double jet lag, a two hour waiting line at customs and another hour of training it and walking blocks and blocks with three bags hanging off me to visit New York City for a couple of days? Absolutely not.
I never really had the desire to visit NYC before, because in my mind that wasn't the Real America. I was right - it is not. Someone once told me it's like Amsterdam, only bigger and with sky scrapers. That, it is not either. This city is unparalleled and unique. Not American, not European, not Asian - and then again, it is. It's as relaxing as a summer breeze on a lazy afternoon and at the same time so energizing, it turns you into an ADHD patient instantly.
I realize I'm talking in cliches right now. It has all been said before and I guess with reason. Although I don't particularly enjoy being a rundown path (ha), I'll just say it in the most overused phrase ever put on a t-shirt: I love NY!
My favorite NY moments are touristy and not so touristy. I loved being on Top of the Rock. With only the sound of an occasional helicopter and the bending of the horizon, you feel like you're standing on top of the world. The city is literally at your feet - I even managed to shoot a picture of the streets. No small feat for someone with my case of vertigo. Another favorite was Times Square, which seems to be the center source of all the buzzing you can feel throughout the city.
But my favorite moments where this: whenever I was in Central Park, be it by myself, with Sarah, or with a whole bunch of us. Watching people, watching the scenery, watching myself be happy. Various times I was just walking down the streets, and I suddenly felt very much at place, like I belonged there. Riding the train, people unwilling to look at each other, half asleep for the most part - and then suddenly there's a look of understanding, a wordless communication of a shared feeling about a fellow traveller.
New York may not be Amsterdam, New Yorkers you can pretty much compare to inhabitants of larger cities in The Netherlands. Moody, aloof, unbothered, fast. No wonder I felt at home :)
Honesty dictates me to say that the city was only half the reason I enjoyed this trip so immensely. The other half is DMB and the group of people I hung out with. There were Sarah and Bobbo, lifelines in a setting of unfamiliar faces. There was Morgan, whom I'd never met before and who isn't a fraction of how intimidating he can look and there were Becker and Popejoy, hilarious and kind men, whom I'd only met once before but who immediately took me into the group like I'd been part of it for years. And there was Bobbo's girlfriend, a more quiet but straight up girl who nicely balanced out my big mouth.
So let's do a quick recap of the extended weekend.
Thursday 11I had had quite a bad head cold for a couple of days, and still had a stuffy and sore head. In a very undutch fashion, I just popped a dozen pills instead of letting it work its own way out of my system. That helped a little, but of course didn't prevent my ears from exploding completely when we were descending towards JFK. Even a tiny vain popped. However, for the first time ever, a stewart took notice of my pain and educated me in the solution: two foam cups with wet towels in 'em, drinking water and blowing your nose simultaneously. I will be forever thankful to that man.
Customs was eventful; the line was so long, it went on outside the massive room. An old German man accused an orthodox jew of carrying a bomb. The customs officer was suspicious why I would travel two times to the US in a year "just for fun". After picking up my baggage I realized I had no idea where to go from there. I could just take a cab, but called Robert just in case. After giving me shit for my unprepared ways, he got me on the right track and an hour later, I was the first one to arrive at the hotel.
Bobbo had managed to get us some sort of an apartment within the Essex House Hotel on South Central Park. Needless to say, it was absolutely fabulous. We had a common room and two bedrooms and with an extra pullout couch and another nice wide coach, it was perfect for 7 people. It was more than just a place to crash - it was also a great place to hang out and just laugh and talk.
After maybe 20 minutes, Morgan knocks on the door. I open it and in front of me is standing a bald headed giant. Not exactly of average American height. Which was pretty nice - for once, the shorter kids would be the minority :). We headed out for a bar to meet up with some other group. Which is when the man with the hammer started pounding on my head and told me to get to bed. So I left them and went back to the hotel, where minutes later Bobbo, Annelise and Sarah arrived. After much missed hugs, they went out to the bar with Morgan and the other group and I fell into a blissful sleep in my awesome bed.
Friday 12Next morning, Sarah and I got up at the crack of dawn to go to the Statue of Liberty. Yes, we went there. We were being tourists. Lady Liberty though is a symbol of hope for everyone in search of a new life in the United States - if you know me, you'll understand I have been wanting to meet her for quite some time. It was an awesome little trip. We were there early, which meant no waiting lines and no packed ferry. The tour at the Statue and Ellis Island were interesting and a tiny bit emotional. Chances are I'll never really move to the States. But my circumstances are not that set in stone (fortunately or unfortunately - depends on how you look at it) and the dream of living overseas is something I do not weep over, but cherish. Even if it all won't come true.
We accidently stumbled upon the landmark which tells the history of the founding of New Amsterdam and us (the Dutch) finally selling it (I do believe for 30 florines and Suriname). That was certainly not going to be the last time I came across little tangible pieces of proof that "We Were Here First - I Mean After The Natives".
We walked up to ground zero which had less of an impact than standing with Lady Liberty and looking at the skyline. Looking at that skyline you know two things: 1. It's absolutely gorgeous and I want that and 2. Something is missing. Something terrible has happened. This is f-ing real.
Back at the hotel I took a nap until the door to my room flies open and Popejoy is announcing his arrival loudly. Morgan, Sarah, Becker, Popejoy and me took a quick walk through the park and once again (I'm starting to sound like a broken record - see Deer Creek), everything with these people is just so laid back and relaxed. Absolutely effortless.
Before we go on to the next part of the day, I have to explain that I've been diagnosed with chronic rheumatoid arthritis. This means I get infections in my joints, mostly in my limbs, hands and feet. I have started small doses of chemo a couple of weeks ago. If all goes well, this will eventually start to suppress the symptoms - possibly almost completely. However, it's still heavy medication and the doctor warned me about alcohol.
You feel where I'm going with this, right?
We had some beers at the hotel. I wisely stuck to Miller Lite and did not partake into the finer beers Morgan had brought. We went to a bar called Mustang Sally's, because that's apparently where you pre-party before an MSG show. I had a Yuengling (spellcheck please). And then, Popejoy ordered Rumplemintz. Since I'm a stupid, irresponsible and immature cow, I had one too. Or two. And some more beer. And after some much needed, delicious pizza we went to the venue (kicks ass, btw) and had some more beers.
I am officially That Girl. The one you hate at shows. The one you're wondering about if she's going to remember the setlist tomorrow morning (I didn't; well, not completely). The one who keeps dancing from left to right and yells too loudly. I am that girl. Please do not hate me. Especially, since it was So. Much. Fun. I was walking the ledge, but managed to stay on the right side and I had so much unbridled FUN. I spent the rest of the weekend with a permanent smile fixed on my inner face. Fun! Fun! Fun!. Or rather, Beer! Beer! Beer!
After the show we went to Mustang Harry's, because that's apparently where you post-party after an MSG show. I got felt up by a dinosaur. Things were blurry. Suddenly everyone had left and dinosaur's hand was still on my ass. Fortunately, it wasn't dramatic as it seemed and turned out they were waiting outside for me. After an uncomfortable (won't get into that) cab ride back to the hotel, I got educated on pop music, had a furious discussion about Schmayer, discovered Popejoy's music (which is a current fixture in my CD player - I absolutely love that disc. Check out www.joshuapopejoy.com) and listened to men gushing over their women (it was cute). How I was the last one still standing - beats me. I could cry tears from joy though after I had helped everyone to bed. Finally, sleep!
Next up: Saturday and Sunday. The best opener I could ever have wished for. Frightening sandwiches. Why I'll never be sorry.
