Klipspringer 5 in New York

After spending some more time lying around the house and sneezing, I set off one Friday afternoon into the sunset. Kind of, but more south. Anyway, I took a 4:30 train into Boston from the station directly behind my house, and then started to walk in the general direction of South Station, thinking that I'd try to find a train or bus headed to D.C., because that's where I felt like going. While walking, I found myself in Chinatown passing by a large, very diverse (don't even start, it's just the easiest and fewest words to put there, or was) group of people who seemed to be waiting for something on a sidewalk. After walking a little further, and realizing that South Station was just a couple blocks away, I further realized that I was right next to ticket booths for some of the Chinatown bus lines, "charter" buses which regularly travel Boston->NY for $10. At first I was going to continue on to South Station, but my curiosity got the better of me and I decided to get the bus to New York instead. So I got a ticket, headed over to the particular street where my bus would be coming and in short order found myself headed south-west. Now, I'd been hoping that whoever sat next to me would be interesting and talkative and maybe even be able to offer me a place to stay, since I really had no idea what I was going to do about that. Unfortunately, the friendly-seeming, young guy of South Asian descent who sat next to me promptly passed out and proceeded to spend the next four hours adjusting positions so as to remain as close to asleep as possible. What little I did find out about him was that he was a student travelling to visit a friend, and that he had been, despite appearances, sleeping well. So we got into New York some time around 11pm and I really had no idea what to do. As much as I'd told myself that I'd just need to go up to someone and ask for help, I couldn't quite bring myself to walk over to a complete stranger and ask if they had some spare floor space, so I picked up my back pack and set off wandering aimlessly down Canal Street. I knew I was in Chinatown, was pretty sure that that was part of Manhattan, but the part of Manhattan I was at all familiar with consisted primarily of numbered streets that went straight in one direction or another, which these streets most certainly did not. Thus, when two girls of about my age approached me and asked that I take a picture of them in front of one of the streets of Little Italy, I did and then, after a slight hesitation and a brief explanation of my situation, asked them if they could tell me where I was. They were extremely helpful, sketched out a little map and gave me the address of a hostel. During the ensuing conversation I learned that their names were Natasha and Christina, that Natasha was a student at Middlebury and lived in New Jersey, that Christina was German and visiting Natasha, whom she'd met while Natasha was taking some time off from school and visited Germany, and that Natasha was showing Christina around the city. Well, by the time that had all been worked out, they were comfortable enough with me that Natasha offered to give me a ride around show me the few places Christina hadn't seen yet, and drop me off somewhere, so we headed off towards the car, asking a few people along the way for directions to the street we were looking for, including a waiter and a limo driver. Eventually we reached the car, and we began the last part of the tour, stopping at one point like good tourists to take pictures of the Empire State Building lit up all red, white, and blue. Eventually, it then being in the vicintiy of midnight, it was deemed about time to head home and therefore time to drop me off. As we headed toward the hostel they had recommended, Natasha expressed some regret that she was so far out of the city and couldn't, therefore, offer me a place to stay. But, thinking it over, she said that, if I would like to, I could stay with her and then she could take me to the bus which could take me back into the city the next day. I of course accepted the offer with as little hesitation as surprise and politeness necessitated and from there we proceeded on our way to Mahwah, NJ. My staying over, however, required a decent cover, as Natasha was fairly sure that her mother would be less than thrilled about the bringing home of a random guy picked up off the streets of New York. So we began discussing possible connections. I didn't know anyone else at Middlebury, but she knew an Emily at Bowdoin. Which wasn't particularly helpful for me. From further clues that she gave I thought it must be someone that I know, but she couldn't remember the last name and I was blanking. In the meantime, Natasha remembered that her mother was planning to go into the city in the morning, and called home to verify this. As it was the case, and her father and brother were away for the weekend, she decided that rather than go to the trouble of having to explain my presence, I could simply slip into her brother's room, sleep there, and not come out until after 9:45 the next morning, at which point her mom would have left. This made sense to me and is what happened, although as we pulled up to the house Natasha remembered Emily's last name: Glinick! Who I've known and worked with in the theater for a year and a half! Apparently Emily's ex-boyfriend was a good friend of Natasha's at Middlebury. Or maybe it was a friend of a friend of Natasha's. In any case, they'd met a couple times, and if need be I had a semi-legitimate excuse for being there. After we went in the house and I was introduced to their friendly golden retriever, named Simba, I took my stuff up to her brother's room, brushed my teeth, and went to bed, hardly believing, but thoroughly relishing, my good luck.

The next day I woke up almost late enough, examined the brother's book collection and read my own until the appointed time, took a needed shower, grabbed some breakfast out of the fridge (Natasha had made it clear that I was welcome to food), and read about Marlon Brando and other stuff in the papers. I then found the computer with internet access (Natasha and Christina were just getting up at this point), and used the Bowdoin alumni stalkernet to find people I know who might be in New York. After a while, it being by then past 1pm, we headed to a nearby town where we could window shop, get coffee (Dunkin' Donuts), and I could grab a bus into the city. I got in during the middle of the afternoon and proceeded to walk around midtown Manhattan, trying to find people who I wanted to run into and who might be able to provide me with a place to stay that night. One person had moved out of his posted address and I accidentally interrupted a voice lesson. When I finally found a place with a doorman who let me use a cell phone to try to call people, it turned out that everyone was away for the fourth of July holiday, or just wasn't at home. When I finally reached an actual person I was excited, but then it turned out that she was in Maine, which wasn't so hot. At that point I decided that I was done with New York and traipsed off towards Chinatown to catch the next bus to D.C. Around then I noticed that my right knee was starting to feel kind of painfully wonked from miles of stomping on concrete carrying a fairly heavy backpack. But it wasn't bad enough to keep me from getting to the bus and setting off for DC. I like omens, mostly because it's fun to pick them out or make them up in retrospect, but there does seem to be some truth to them too, and as much as previous day had seemed full of signs of good fortune, so too was this day pointing toward a bunch of not so happiness. But I took the 7pm bus to DC oblivious to this. Oh, let me just say, before ending, that I recommend travelling in the middle part of the day, when it's hot, or overnight if you have to. But don't travel so that you get into a new place late at night. That's just stupid. Anyway, the story will continue later on, in Washington.