Flip Flop Flying

In New York

with 9 comments

It’s 5.30am and I’m grumpy. Jetlag put me to sleep around 9.30-ish last night, and I woke up every couple of hours during the night. This hotel room has got a toilet which has water constantly dripping and making a noise. Brain focuses on it; Craig go insane.

The hotel itself, The Hudson Hotel, is all very swanky in the lobby area. It’s really close to Central Park, which is a very nice thing. My room, though, is fairly average. The bed is comfy, but the room’s pretty tiny: there’s virtually no cupboard space, especially when what cupboard space there is is taken up with mini-bar, mini-telly, mini-hifi, enormo-sized hotel directory, and shrink-wrapped CDs of the sort of music only business travellers who never listen to music might open. And – waaaaah! – there’s no YES Network on the TV, so no lying in bed watching Yankees games for me.

See, told you I was grumpy. I’m even grumpier cos connecting to the internet in the room failed. I keep getting errors when I try and use the hotel’s $10-a-day wireless service. (You don’t need me to rant about the price of wireless internet in hotels, do you?) I’ve got a crap view out of the window too.

So, yes, last night, before I fell asleep, I had an aching muscle pain in my upper arm. Nothing serious. Not until I woke up at 1am after dreaming that an upper arm ache was the first sign of rabies.

My brain’s a jumble right now.

The flight was good, though. I wore a Nicorette patch on my arm to keep the cigarette cravings at bay; I read a good Pet Shop Boys interview in The Word magazine; I did some drawing; and I watched Syriana, which I really enjoyed.

Right. I’m gonna shower and go and find somewhere with Internet access and coffee to drink.

So, the above was all written a couple of hours ago. Starbucks makes you pay for Internet it seems, so I’m back in my hotel room after a pleasant rainy walk around the southern edge of Central Park. A very helpful tech support guy connected me to the Internet. I already miss Billy cos I saw a friendly little Cocker just like him in the park.

On TV right now there’s a psychic medium connecting people with their dead loved ones over the phone. It’s quite scary.

Written by Craig

April 5th, 2006 at 8:51 am

Posted in Uncategorized

9 Responses to 'In New York'

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  1. welcome! Hope you have a pleasant stay and my offer of a pint still stands…minaabril@gmail.com

    I’m not a mental case, just a devoted minipopper. (I’ve discussed them in several college classes I teach…)


    5 Apr 06 at 15:11

  2. Craig, I know you’re probably mad busy but since I now know you like Dan Flavin I really hugely recommend a visit to Dia: Beacon. It’s a train ride from Grand Central – takes about an hour. I think the website is http://www.dia.org. Enjoy your time in the US. Ian.

    Ian Mac

    5 Apr 06 at 15:21

  3. Have a good time Craig,
    don’t worry too much.


    5 Apr 06 at 16:12

  4. Business or pleasure, sir?

    Matt Sephton

    5 Apr 06 at 16:31

  5. this is like getting a postcard, innit.


    5 Apr 06 at 16:53

  6. oh, don’t know if you’re already fully-booked/planned, but remembering your google-maps-springsteen-locations post: why not visiting some of them? or coney island, for that is a real-life springsteen song…


    5 Apr 06 at 20:14

  7. Mina – should I need a pint, I know where to go now!
    Ian – Excellent, that looks cool. I was in Grand Central today looking at the departure boards thinking that it’d be nice to take a train somewhere.
    b7b – Thanks. I’ll try not to.
    Matt – Pleasure. Hopefully.
    bushra – And it will continue to be so…
    b7b – Yes, I am wondering exactly how much of an effort it would be to go to Asbury Park.


    5 Apr 06 at 20:30

  8. Cheer up, honey, you’re in the Big Apple. Tune in – chill out. Don’t panic until you can feel the froth in your mouth. ;)


    6 Apr 06 at 09:25

  9. I totally agree with Ian Mac. We went to Dia Beacon a year or so ago and it is a stunning collection. Afterwards, stroll into Beacon town itself and try to find the redneck bar we had lunch in, and couldn’t help overhear the man at the bar telling the barlady about his brother killing his wife all while his drinking companion went through scratchcard after scratchcard after scratchcard.

    And I know what you mean about missing Billy too. Whenever we are away we see little Marfa’s face in every dog we come across.


    7 Apr 06 at 11:35

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