NYC - Part I

In the doldrums between Christmas and New Year's in 2025 we took a trip to New York City with our son. But I don't want to write about that just yet.

I want to reminisce about another trip to NYC...

In the summer of 2004, my wife, a dear friend, and I set out in a green Ford Focus and crossed the country to New York City.

Yes: we drove all the way there. And back.

I guarantee you the amount of planning that went into the trip was this: we thought how fun it would be, realized it was possible, went to Target and bought a roadmap of the United States, bought some calling cards, and... that's about it.

Please take note: we did not book a hotel or have any guarantee of accommodations.

I remember that we left at about 8pm on a Friday and drove. And drove. And drove. We took the 40W through Arizona all the way into Knoxville and then the 81 to the 78 and the next thing we knew... we were in NYC during rush hour on a Monday morning.

My wife and I switched off driving (our friend who came didn't drive at the time) and we just flew through the country.

Even then, we were culture-shocked / fascinated by a few things:
- a restaurant in Oklahoma had a smoking and non-smoking section that was divided by an imaginary wall
- a mall that still had a movie theater inside it
- getting pulled over (I was shirtless) about 30 seconds after crossing into Arkansas in the middle of the night and the cop made me leave the car and asked if I was under the influence of, was in possession of, or if anyone in the car was under the influence of or in possession of, every single drug ever created in the history of mankind.
- I asked a gas station attendant if they took credit and the woman looked at me and said, "Why would I give you credit? I don't even know you!"
- I remember thinking Tennessee was the most beautiful state I drove through
- We experienced our first roundabout and it was the coolest thing on earth
- Entire states' freeway systems are actually toll roads? WTF
- You probably shouldn't be driving through the mountains in the middle of the night while listening to Coast to Coast with Art Bell because you'll convince yourself you're going to get abducted by aliens while crashing into Bigfoot only after an escaped convict with psychic powers has convinced you to murder your entire family to save yourself from the antichrist that only appears in rainbows only to discover it was all visions from another dimension.

It was an experience, let me tell you! The drive there and back was so damn fun (because we took a northern route on the way back and got to see even more of the country). It was (quite literally unless something happens in the future) a once-in-a-lifetime trip.

And I'll be honest: I fucking hated New York.

It was so fucking hot. It was so fucking humid. Not only was everyone rude, they were also mean. Not one single person we encountered was helpful or friendly.

But maybe that was because we were clueless young travelers who acted like we needed our hands held to navigate their city.

Walking around sucked. Just instant sweat. The subway sucked because you were stuffed inside this metal sausage with people who looked like they hated you specifically. And it was instant sweat in it.

Or maybe all the unfriendliness was because everyone was just too damn hot and pissed off at being too damn hot.

Because I certainly was too damn hot and pissed off at being too damn hot.

We ended up staying at a hostel and got lucky enough to have a room to ourselves. But the bathroom/shower was shared with the entire floor.

So that was... something.

Give us this our daily bread. Probably my son's favorite part of the trip.

We did the typical tourist stuff; if you name it off, we did it.

We went to the 9/11 Museum and I cried. I watched it all unfold live on television on the news while getting ready for school. It was a waking nightmare. And I experienced it via television.

We tried going to the Statue of Liberty on the very first day that it reopened to the public after 9/11 (we had no idea it had been closed the entire time). So, you can imagine what kind of shitshow that was. We didn't go and on every subsequent visit to the city we've not tried again. Something about the grim association with all that traumatic history? I really don't know.

Taking a red-eye flight and then not being able to sleep on the flight sucks.

Overall, the whirlwind trip ended and we came home and I swore that I would never visit NYC ever again and it could kiss my ass.

SoCal's where it's at, baby!

And then my wife and I went alone to NYC in December of 2016.

That time, we stayed in and wandered around Brooklyn; only taking the odd journey into Manhattan.

On that trip, it was like being in a completely different version of something familiar; a mirrored image that gives you a sense of déjà vu.

It wasn't that the city had changed, but it was myself who had.

I had changed from someone who hated walking around a city to being convinced a boots-on-the-ground approach is the only real way to experience what a city has to offer. You miss so much of the people, the places, the things; the life and essence of a city when you just drive through it from point A to point B.

But! My way of traversing a city isn't always compatible with my traveling companions.

Enter: my teenaged son.

He would tell you that dad's idea of walking out of the hotel with only a vague idea of where to go next results in only one thing: utter misery. He wants a complete, itemized inventory of scheduled destinations and the quickest path to them. I just don't work like that.

His saving grace: my wife. For every time I say, "Fuck it, let's wing it," she says, "Ok, but let's also make sure to go here and here and here."

You have to remember: I'm not a distracted guy, but I am very distractible by nature. There's a difference. I stand by the claim!

And when traveling, there's nothing I love more than saying, "Oh, that looks cool, let's walk that way!" And the next thing I know it's been 45 minutes of wandering.

And that's exactly how I write.

Stephen King calls it "pantsing": writing by the seat of your pants. Letting your mind wander; letting the words unfold and letting the story tell itself.

Imagine how much more coherent my writing would be if I planned and outlined and (oh my god) drafted and (gasp!) rewrote?!

I guess maybe if you're a teenager it's not particularly the funnest thing to walk around in a snow flurry while your parents aren't deciding on what the destination should be (other than pizza) but they just keep on walking.

And not deciding.

But deciding on a destination also has this finality to it that doesn't feel like vacation. The end of your trip is all about finality; a closing. You don't start your trip with finality! You have X-amount of days before you! The time seems limitless! The world is your oyster!