Woke up in the 5'o'clock hour after being out at the Echo for Palma Violets the night before. Flight to depart at 8:30am. Sit on the tarmac for two hours waiting to be re-directed. Nap my face off before we even take off. Wake up and don't even know how long I've been in-and-out of consciousness. Five hours maybe?
Land at JFK around 8pm. Take the AirTrain to the Jamaica station. Subway it to 23rd st. 'Thinking of a Dream I Had' rattles around my head as the soundtrack, along with some Kurt Vile. Women on the subway in NYC know to keep their eyes down to avoid the crazies and all the male gazes. A hobo goes around asking for some spare food, an Aussie responds with an orange and a half-pack of graham crackers.
Arrive in the Chelsea neighborhood. Go out to dinner at a local restaurant, Westville. Tiny. Tables stacked up right next to each other. We were next to a business couple on a first date or so. How can waiters/waitresses and such afford to live in NYC?
Finish up and crash on an air mattress.
No comments:
Post a Comment