Travels With Brian

New York, New York

As the song says, it's so good they named it twice. So I went there twice... so far.

The first time I went was for a day conference. I landed late on the Friday night, met with some colleagues, had a beer, went to sleep, had a full on crazy day, went to a pub, had a very quick walk around part of Central park with the other English guy at the company, then came home.

The second time was a little different as I flew in from Canada having been there at Wattpad's head office for a week and a half prior. So this time I landed in New York on Thursday afternoon. This meant I had more time so I could help setup the next conference and explore more of the city.

And it's a hell of a city.*

* - Sorry, hell of a town. Well at least that's what the song says.

I'm still a country boy at heart and having grown up in very rural southwest England, cities still delight and terrify me in equal measure even though I've been to a fair few in my time.

Of course New York version 2 wasn't my first time in America due the aforementioned lightning fast trip to NY previously, but that wasn't my first time in the US either as I'd spent a month in the southwest states when I was in my early twenties. But this second visit to NY was the first time I'd really seen much of the city itself.

It is loud. Full on. Totally American. And kinda bonkers. But as with all places, the people are usually pretty cool. The one thing that phases me more than anything else in the US though is the guns. British police rarely carry guns; they usually rely on sarcasm, extreme politeness and occasionally handcuffs or severe disappointment if pushed. Seeing NY city police wandering around with machine guns wasn't something I liked, but there we go, everyone has their own systems. Besides, I was there for a conference, to work, to see friends and colleagues and hopefully put away some good food and drink. So that's largely what I did.

The first time I'd gone to NY I got a yellow cab from the airport to where my colleagues were staying. But this time, as I was staying not far from Times Square I thought I'd take the train from the airport instead. It wasn't like the Toronto Subway: it felt edgy, dark, and a bit gritty, a bit like the London Underground but with a different accent. But it got to where I needed to go, so that was fine by me.

My hotel was in one of the back streets to the south west of Times Square and was surrounded by taller buildings. A four or five story brick affair, it seemed like it had once been rather high class but had fallen on hard times. It had a scuffed looking grand piano in the entrance hall, and wood panelling, but everything was a little frayed around the edges. My bedroom was literally a foot bigger than the double bed that was in it, but it was clean and had wifi and a shower. Not sure it had a window, but it did have air conditioning.

That night I'd been invited to meet up with some of my team, some friends, fellow writers, and whoever the heck else turned up at an Irish bar a few blocks away. The food was distinctly average, as was the beer, but the company was excellent. At about 10pm though it turned into a karaoke night, so I made my excuses and wandered out into New York at night. I would have to be extremely drunk to sing in public, and no-one needs to hear a middle-aged Brit trying to hit the high notes in a Queen song.

I was tired, but didn't really feel sleepy, and as usual I was hungry.** And I smelt pizza. And I was in New York. It had to be done.

** - I am perpetually hungry. I'm not sure if I have a high metabolism, hollow legs, or Brian is developing beyond a figment of my imagination and needs his own source of sustenance, but my kids seem to have inherited that particular trait too. Our family food bill is horrendous, but we eat a diverse and interesting set of food and my kids love trying new things so I can't complain.