Sunday 14th July: I spent the day doing nothing in particular. Just walking around New York can be an experience. They have an unusual attitude to crossing the road, which is especially refreshing when you have just spent three years living in Germany. In New every junction (at least in Manhattan) has traffic lights. There are also signs telling pedestrians when to walk. These are almost universally ignored by everyone on the pavement(sorry, sidewalk). This is in complete contrast to Germany, where people will obey the pedestrian signals even at 03:00 when there isn't a car for five miles (sorry, eight kilometres) in any direction.
Kit called me and we arranged to meet for supper, so I walked over to her apartment and she took me to a place a few blocks away called 45 & X (because it's on the corner of 45th Street and 10th Avenue). It's not very well known because it's in Hell's Kitchen, which is an area most theatre goers tend to avoid. My spicy chicken sausage risotto was a little too rich (too much cream) for my taste, but the chocolate napoleon for dessert was excellent.
Kit went home to bed (she has to work in the morning, after all) but since it was only just after 23:00 I went over to the big cinema on 42nd Street. They had a late showing of Spider-man so I went to see it again - I'd seen it once in Germany but it's interesting to watch once you've been around New York. I recognised quite a few of the scenes as places I've already seen.
After the film I walked down 42nd Street to Bryan Park. The park itself was shut, but I sat on the steps outside and was still able to access the wireless network provided free inside. I didn't stay for very long, because sitting outside a park in New York in the early hours of the morning holding a relatively expensive piece of electronic equipment probably isn't good for your long term health prospects.
Friday, July 26, 2002
Saturday 13th July: I really should remember not to drink gin and tonic in large quantities. I didn't achieve anything at all today apart from sitting around and drinking liquids. By evening I was feeling a bit more lively, so I decided to follow up a tip I got from a native. Kate, who I met in the piano bar last night, had suggested there were quite a few bars from 40th to 50th Streets between 1st and 2nd Avenue that were good places to meet people. My Rough Guide listed a few as well, so I thought I'd try it out. I walked over to 3rd Avenue to find a famous bar called P.J.Clarke's between 55th and 56th Streets. Unfortunately it was shut for renovations. I also tried British Open, an anglophile pub dedicated to tennis, but that had closed down. I decided the Rough Guide wasn't helping much and switched to the tried and tested "walk around and look in the window" method of bar location, but I discovered curious thing. In New York on Saturday evening every single pub and bar I looked at was nearly empty. There just didn't seem to be anyone around. I walked a long way south, alternating between 1st and 2nd Avenue. At one point I found myself walking past the United Nations building, which I found a little sterile.
I ended up in the Fàilte Irish Whiskey Bar (2nd Avenue between 29th and 30th Street) trying the Guinness, which was nice. It too was almost empty, so I ended up chatting to the barmaid, Jennifer. She was very interested in my trip, and wanted to know all the different places I'd been in Europe. Suddenly, just after eleven, for no apparent reason the bar suddenly filled up. I have no idea where all these people were hiding, but (as if by magic) they suddenly appeared.
Jennifer was now being rushed off her feet serving drinks, so I thought I'd indulge in a little fan trip. For a while now I have been reading an internet comic called Goats. Most of the action (if you can call it that) takes place in a bar in New York. The bar and some of the characters are real, so I grabbed a cab and asked him to take me to Bleeker Street.
I wasn't totally sure where the Peculiar Pub was (I'd managed to lose the bit of paper I'd written the address on) so I ended up walking the length of the street. It's obviously a student area, just south of New York University, so every shop is a bar, restaurant or take-away. I eventually found the Peculiar Pub near the corner of Thompson Street. It's not particularly well decorated (wood features heavily in the design) but it does posess a remarkable collection of beers from around the world. This probably explains why it was so crowded. I had a quick look around, but I couldn't see anyone I recognised from the comic, mainly because it was so crowded. I ended up going to an Irish bar a few doors down and having another Guinness or two.
When I finally got a taxi home I was amazed to find it was the same taxi driver who'd driven me to Bleeker Street a few hours earlier. I have no idea how many taxi drivers there are in New York, but I'd imagine it's a fairly large coincidence.
I ended up in the Fàilte Irish Whiskey Bar (2nd Avenue between 29th and 30th Street) trying the Guinness, which was nice. It too was almost empty, so I ended up chatting to the barmaid, Jennifer. She was very interested in my trip, and wanted to know all the different places I'd been in Europe. Suddenly, just after eleven, for no apparent reason the bar suddenly filled up. I have no idea where all these people were hiding, but (as if by magic) they suddenly appeared.
Jennifer was now being rushed off her feet serving drinks, so I thought I'd indulge in a little fan trip. For a while now I have been reading an internet comic called Goats. Most of the action (if you can call it that) takes place in a bar in New York. The bar and some of the characters are real, so I grabbed a cab and asked him to take me to Bleeker Street.
I wasn't totally sure where the Peculiar Pub was (I'd managed to lose the bit of paper I'd written the address on) so I ended up walking the length of the street. It's obviously a student area, just south of New York University, so every shop is a bar, restaurant or take-away. I eventually found the Peculiar Pub near the corner of Thompson Street. It's not particularly well decorated (wood features heavily in the design) but it does posess a remarkable collection of beers from around the world. This probably explains why it was so crowded. I had a quick look around, but I couldn't see anyone I recognised from the comic, mainly because it was so crowded. I ended up going to an Irish bar a few doors down and having another Guinness or two.
When I finally got a taxi home I was amazed to find it was the same taxi driver who'd driven me to Bleeker Street a few hours earlier. I have no idea how many taxi drivers there are in New York, but I'd imagine it's a fairly large coincidence.
Friday 12th July: I spent a while on Friday sitting in Bryant Park getting my new wireless network card to work. After a few false starts it came online, and I was able to check my email and answer a few queries. For some reason Blogger is refusing to update my webpage so I will have to play around with it for a while.
That evening I decided to hit the town. I got a taxi down to Washington Square, and after wandering around for a while I found myself outside the Cubbyhole again. Why is it I'm drawn to lesbian bars? I managed to get a seat the bar and ordered a Guinness. Shortly after my first sip someone asked me if the seat next to me was taken. He ordered a Greyhound, I asked him what that was (vodka and cranberry juice, apparently) and we got talking. His name was Karl and he was originally from Norway. He had been in New York for twelve years, originally as a model, although he had been training as a lawyer and was now a paralegal (the stage before taking the bar). He had the sort of looks that go with being a male model - striking rather than attractive, 6'4", blonde, slim rather than muscular. He was also very obviously gay. Apparently he comes in the Cubbyhole to avoid being hit on by men. He asked me if I was gay, and upon my negative reply asked me what I was doing there. I told him I had discovered it last week and it seemed a nice place for a drink. He asked me if I realised that most of the women there were lesbians and I pointed out it was pretty obvious.
Having satisfied his curiosity, Karl seemed to decide to adopt me. He announced that, since I didn't have any other plans for the evening, he was going to take me out and show me the town. We decided to stay for a few more drinks, and got talking to a married couple called Peter and Jean. I couldn't help thinking Peter was living in denial, because while he was talking to me his wife was flirting with most of the women in the pub. Still, they seemed happy so who am I to judge? I also talked to a few of Karl's lesbian friends. When one of them found out I was straight she asked me if I was there hoping to see some "hot lesbian action". I laughed and said how sad would I have to be to come here for that, and she said it was actually quite common to get men in the bar looking for that kind of thing.
At some point I offered to buy Karl a drink and he suggested we move on, so we said our goodbyes and walked to a nearby club called Nells. Now I'm not going to say that we were the only white people in Nells, but we were definitely in the minority. It didn't help that I was the only man with long hair and I was accompanying a tall, camp man, but Karl knew the doormen so we got in without too much trouble (althought they confiscated my bottle of water - I assume they didn't want anyone drinking anything that wasn't from the bar, or maybe they just sold the water on to someone else). Inside, the club was decorated in a rather old-fashioned style, although it was rather dilapidated so maybe it was original. There was a sort of latin jazz band playing in the bar. The singer was very short and had very thick glasses which spoilt the effect somewhat, but they sounded good.
It was at this point that began to suspect that Karl's motives for letting him accompany me weren't entirely altruistic. Although he paid for some of the drinks he made me go to the bar to buy them, and he was very enthusiastic about introducing me to all his friends then making sure I sat next to him. When he dragged me downstairs to the disco I began to suspect that he was in fact using me as a novelty toyboy to show off with. I wasn't particularly bothered, mainly because I was already fairly drunk on Guinness and had now switched to gin and tonics. We danced for a while downstairs (we had our own little area of the dancefloor - whether this was because we were white, appeared to be gay or were just dancing really badly I don't know), then Karl announced we were leaving. We jumped in a cab and Karl shouted something at the driver, then he remembered it was Friday and changed his mind. We arrived at the corner of Grove Street and 4th and went into what Karl called "the piano bar". Basically it was a bar with a piano in the corner of the room surrounded by stools. There was a whole variety of people sitting and standing around the piano, which was being played very well by a man who was the spitting image of Andy McGrath (even down to the shorts) singing what I assumed were show tunes. Karl grabbed a stool by the piano and sent me to the bar (again), and when I came back he was in full voice. Apparently he had been a member of the New York Amateur Opera Society for ten years. I attempted to sing along, even though I didn't really know any of the words. After a while Karl announced he was going home because he was drunk, so I said goodbye and he staggered out to order a taxi.
By now I had met several other people in the bar, including a large black guy called Jay. We sang along to a few songs from Grease then they started singing something I didn't recognise so I stopped. Jay asked me why I wasn't singing.
"I don't know the words."
"Why not?"
"Well, I'm English."
"So what? This is Oklahoma! You're gay, aren't you?"
I had to admit that I was not. He seemed surprised, and asked me what I was doing in a gay bar (deja vu?). I pointed out that I had thought it was a bar for people who enjoyed singing, and he seemed happy with this.
I had also been talking to two women at the bar, Kate and Liz. Liz was slightly older than my mother, but we had been having an interesting conversation about how most American men were too insecure to come in a gay bar. However, I began to suspect her motives when she claimed a man at the other side of the bar was eyeing me up and offered to kiss me to get rid of him. While I was unwilling to doubt her generous nature I decided that it was time for me to go home, so I walked out and hailed a cab.
That evening I decided to hit the town. I got a taxi down to Washington Square, and after wandering around for a while I found myself outside the Cubbyhole again. Why is it I'm drawn to lesbian bars? I managed to get a seat the bar and ordered a Guinness. Shortly after my first sip someone asked me if the seat next to me was taken. He ordered a Greyhound, I asked him what that was (vodka and cranberry juice, apparently) and we got talking. His name was Karl and he was originally from Norway. He had been in New York for twelve years, originally as a model, although he had been training as a lawyer and was now a paralegal (the stage before taking the bar). He had the sort of looks that go with being a male model - striking rather than attractive, 6'4", blonde, slim rather than muscular. He was also very obviously gay. Apparently he comes in the Cubbyhole to avoid being hit on by men. He asked me if I was gay, and upon my negative reply asked me what I was doing there. I told him I had discovered it last week and it seemed a nice place for a drink. He asked me if I realised that most of the women there were lesbians and I pointed out it was pretty obvious.
Having satisfied his curiosity, Karl seemed to decide to adopt me. He announced that, since I didn't have any other plans for the evening, he was going to take me out and show me the town. We decided to stay for a few more drinks, and got talking to a married couple called Peter and Jean. I couldn't help thinking Peter was living in denial, because while he was talking to me his wife was flirting with most of the women in the pub. Still, they seemed happy so who am I to judge? I also talked to a few of Karl's lesbian friends. When one of them found out I was straight she asked me if I was there hoping to see some "hot lesbian action". I laughed and said how sad would I have to be to come here for that, and she said it was actually quite common to get men in the bar looking for that kind of thing.
At some point I offered to buy Karl a drink and he suggested we move on, so we said our goodbyes and walked to a nearby club called Nells. Now I'm not going to say that we were the only white people in Nells, but we were definitely in the minority. It didn't help that I was the only man with long hair and I was accompanying a tall, camp man, but Karl knew the doormen so we got in without too much trouble (althought they confiscated my bottle of water - I assume they didn't want anyone drinking anything that wasn't from the bar, or maybe they just sold the water on to someone else). Inside, the club was decorated in a rather old-fashioned style, although it was rather dilapidated so maybe it was original. There was a sort of latin jazz band playing in the bar. The singer was very short and had very thick glasses which spoilt the effect somewhat, but they sounded good.
It was at this point that began to suspect that Karl's motives for letting him accompany me weren't entirely altruistic. Although he paid for some of the drinks he made me go to the bar to buy them, and he was very enthusiastic about introducing me to all his friends then making sure I sat next to him. When he dragged me downstairs to the disco I began to suspect that he was in fact using me as a novelty toyboy to show off with. I wasn't particularly bothered, mainly because I was already fairly drunk on Guinness and had now switched to gin and tonics. We danced for a while downstairs (we had our own little area of the dancefloor - whether this was because we were white, appeared to be gay or were just dancing really badly I don't know), then Karl announced we were leaving. We jumped in a cab and Karl shouted something at the driver, then he remembered it was Friday and changed his mind. We arrived at the corner of Grove Street and 4th and went into what Karl called "the piano bar". Basically it was a bar with a piano in the corner of the room surrounded by stools. There was a whole variety of people sitting and standing around the piano, which was being played very well by a man who was the spitting image of Andy McGrath (even down to the shorts) singing what I assumed were show tunes. Karl grabbed a stool by the piano and sent me to the bar (again), and when I came back he was in full voice. Apparently he had been a member of the New York Amateur Opera Society for ten years. I attempted to sing along, even though I didn't really know any of the words. After a while Karl announced he was going home because he was drunk, so I said goodbye and he staggered out to order a taxi.
By now I had met several other people in the bar, including a large black guy called Jay. We sang along to a few songs from Grease then they started singing something I didn't recognise so I stopped. Jay asked me why I wasn't singing.
"I don't know the words."
"Why not?"
"Well, I'm English."
"So what? This is Oklahoma! You're gay, aren't you?"
I had to admit that I was not. He seemed surprised, and asked me what I was doing in a gay bar (deja vu?). I pointed out that I had thought it was a bar for people who enjoyed singing, and he seemed happy with this.
I had also been talking to two women at the bar, Kate and Liz. Liz was slightly older than my mother, but we had been having an interesting conversation about how most American men were too insecure to come in a gay bar. However, I began to suspect her motives when she claimed a man at the other side of the bar was eyeing me up and offered to kiss me to get rid of him. While I was unwilling to doubt her generous nature I decided that it was time for me to go home, so I walked out and hailed a cab.
Thursday 11th July: Having not had time on Wednesday, I went over to the electronics store on 45th Street to collect my wireless network card. Because my handheld PC does not have a CD drive I need a PC to install the drivers for the card, so I asked the salesman how much they would charge for this. "$95" was the reply. I felt this was a little steep, as I had just paid $99 for the card itself, so I declined. After asking around a few other shops I realised this was actually quite cheap, as the other shops either had no idea what I was talking about or would have charged me even more. I was finally rescued by an excellent salesman in the Gateway computer shop round the corner from my hotel. When I explained what I needed he said they only offered technical support on Gateway machines. I said I didn't need any support, just the use of a PC for about 15 minutes.
"So if I were to turn my back while you used one of the PCs in the shop, that would be all you need?"
"Yes, that's all I need. Is that okay with you?"
"I have no idea who you are or what you're talking about." He smiled.
Armed with this tacit agreement, I selected a PC in the corner of the shop and got to work. I downloaded and installed ActiveSync from the Microsoft website, plugged in my handheld and established a serial connection then installed the drivers from the CD provided with the card. One this was completed I unplugged the serial link and uninstalled ActiveSync, leaving the PC exactly as I found it. The salesman was talking to a customer, so I gave him a thumbs up as I left the shop. He smiled again.
In between technical support stops I went to see some of New York's famous buildings. Near Grand Central station is the Chrysler building. It's not open to the public but it's still an amazing building. I then went down to its big brother, the Empire State building. This one is open to the public, but I couldn't be bothered to queue up to get the lift. The queue goes halfway around the building and there's an X-ray machine, metal detector and bag search to get through (just in case someone tries to hijack the building, I suppose).
Just round the corner is one of the best comic shops in New York, which was recommended to me by a friend of Kit's - Jim Hanleys Universe (33rd Street between 5th and 6th Avenue). Well worth a visit if you're in to that sort of thing. I was looking for a specific comic - "White Trash", which was published when I was a student. A friend of mine had it and Martin's been trying to get hold of a copy ever since, so I thought I'd check into it. Amazingly enough it has just been republished after 10 years, so I bought a copy for Martin's birthday. I also bought a copy of T-shirts, one of which was an image taken from Neil Gaiman's Sandman series. I had noticed in Time Out that he was doing a reading and signing session for his new book at 18:00 in Barnes and Noble (East 17th Street between Broadway and Park Avenue South). I walked down there, stopping on the way to have a look in Macy's, apparently the world's largest department store. I found it rather disappointing - not a patch on Harrods.
I arrived at Barnes and Noble just before 18:00 and made my way up to the fourth floor. There is a large open area at the back with a small stage, but it was already packed. There were three hundred seats at the front in a roped off area, which you had to have a ticket for. The rest of us got to stand behind the rope. Neil appeared shortly after 18:00 and read from his new book "Coraline" for about 20 minutes, did about half an hour of questions and answers then a short speech about what he was working on at the moment. He seems to have his finger in many pies, although most of the films are being held up by lack of funding. There has been talk of a film of "Good Omens", which he wrote with Terry Pratchett, to be directed by Terry Gilliam, and they already have $45 million but when they went to the studio to get another $15 million they said no, because they were scared of Terry Gilliam!
After the talk Neil started signing books. I had managed to get myself at the start of the queue for signings, but they had to get through the three hundred people with tickets first. I sat there for a while and read "Bone in the throat" by Anthony Bourdain, but after an hour or so the woman in charge came round and said Neil was talking to everyone who wanted a signing so they probably weren't going to have time to get to us. I had wanted to get a copy of the new book signed for Martin's birthday, but they had some copies that had been signed earlier so I bought one of them instead.
I stopped off at a café on the way home and had a hot dog with chilli (traditional American food) which was very good, then went back to the hotel.
"So if I were to turn my back while you used one of the PCs in the shop, that would be all you need?"
"Yes, that's all I need. Is that okay with you?"
"I have no idea who you are or what you're talking about." He smiled.
Armed with this tacit agreement, I selected a PC in the corner of the shop and got to work. I downloaded and installed ActiveSync from the Microsoft website, plugged in my handheld and established a serial connection then installed the drivers from the CD provided with the card. One this was completed I unplugged the serial link and uninstalled ActiveSync, leaving the PC exactly as I found it. The salesman was talking to a customer, so I gave him a thumbs up as I left the shop. He smiled again.
In between technical support stops I went to see some of New York's famous buildings. Near Grand Central station is the Chrysler building. It's not open to the public but it's still an amazing building. I then went down to its big brother, the Empire State building. This one is open to the public, but I couldn't be bothered to queue up to get the lift. The queue goes halfway around the building and there's an X-ray machine, metal detector and bag search to get through (just in case someone tries to hijack the building, I suppose).
Just round the corner is one of the best comic shops in New York, which was recommended to me by a friend of Kit's - Jim Hanleys Universe (33rd Street between 5th and 6th Avenue). Well worth a visit if you're in to that sort of thing. I was looking for a specific comic - "White Trash", which was published when I was a student. A friend of mine had it and Martin's been trying to get hold of a copy ever since, so I thought I'd check into it. Amazingly enough it has just been republished after 10 years, so I bought a copy for Martin's birthday. I also bought a copy of T-shirts, one of which was an image taken from Neil Gaiman's Sandman series. I had noticed in Time Out that he was doing a reading and signing session for his new book at 18:00 in Barnes and Noble (East 17th Street between Broadway and Park Avenue South). I walked down there, stopping on the way to have a look in Macy's, apparently the world's largest department store. I found it rather disappointing - not a patch on Harrods.
I arrived at Barnes and Noble just before 18:00 and made my way up to the fourth floor. There is a large open area at the back with a small stage, but it was already packed. There were three hundred seats at the front in a roped off area, which you had to have a ticket for. The rest of us got to stand behind the rope. Neil appeared shortly after 18:00 and read from his new book "Coraline" for about 20 minutes, did about half an hour of questions and answers then a short speech about what he was working on at the moment. He seems to have his finger in many pies, although most of the films are being held up by lack of funding. There has been talk of a film of "Good Omens", which he wrote with Terry Pratchett, to be directed by Terry Gilliam, and they already have $45 million but when they went to the studio to get another $15 million they said no, because they were scared of Terry Gilliam!
After the talk Neil started signing books. I had managed to get myself at the start of the queue for signings, but they had to get through the three hundred people with tickets first. I sat there for a while and read "Bone in the throat" by Anthony Bourdain, but after an hour or so the woman in charge came round and said Neil was talking to everyone who wanted a signing so they probably weren't going to have time to get to us. I had wanted to get a copy of the new book signed for Martin's birthday, but they had some copies that had been signed earlier so I bought one of them instead.
I stopped off at a café on the way home and had a hot dog with chilli (traditional American food) which was very good, then went back to the hotel.
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