Here, There and Everywhere

Ticket To Ride

February 7th, 1964

It is a sunny but chilly day on the day that The Beatles arrive in New York.

Within a matter of hours, the four and their partners find themselves in the predicament of being surrounded by unusually tall buildings and a culture they have only read about in novels.

 New York is intimidating. The accents sound strange, the food odd, the air different. The skyscrapers leave shadows so massive in the afternoons that the sunlight can hardly grace the sidewalks. They almost feel as though they've landed on Mars, like some puzzle piece that is daringly out of place. They work hard to be friendly and to hide their English accents as best they can, yet the funny looks from strangers are endless. 

Ringo adjusts his messed-up mop top with a comb the moment they get off of the plane. Although he'd never admit it, deep down he cares a great deal about his image. The four are suddenly accosted by the shrieks and squeals of a small herd of screaming females, who had been awake all night by the tarmac in anticipation for their arrival. They politely wave and rush past the crowd after signing some of their shirts, vinyls, arms, and most any object pushed in their direction, just begging for a signature.

Paul leans close and shouts to John so that he can hear over the noise:

"Ha John! What daft bloke had the idea that we can't be big in the states, like back home?"

He earns an absentminded nod of approval from Lennon, who is too busy swooning over one blonde woman in the crowd to take in what Paul has just said. They share a friendly chuckle, but there is a truth inside the sentiment that lingers heavy between them. They are aware that this very well could be what they have been waiting for since they were boys; their big break, the lucky chance to make a name for themselves. 

For some reason, the thought sends an uncomfortable shiver through John's body, so he pushes the idea aside.

Julia, Dorothy, and George's squeeze, Beverly, inconspicuously try to file down the steps of the plane after the four boys have made their entrance. They had to wait behind in the front of the plane, to avoid the possibility of unjust injury or unwarranted photographs. 

The three ladies decide to catch a Taxi and get a glimpse of the hotel before the others can. Paul figures he should pull some familiarity in, so he suggests taking a stroll along 5th Avenue to visit a few quaint music stores and take a peek at some of the merchandise; a tradition they've held back in Liverpool since the teenage years. John then glances down at his jean pockets, only to find them entirely void of all paper. His hands sway left and right, and shift for the cash he was sure he'd stuffed someplace in his jeans. His friends watch as his expression changes. Finally, with a disgruntled sigh of defeat, he laughs at George and gives his shoulder a light, playful slap. But something in his eyes looks deflated, and they all recognize it.

One thing about John; he is absolutely horrendous with his money.

"Well shite. Have you any Taxi fair, my Georgie? Think I left mine in me wallet, back at the 'otel."

"Cheapskate," Ringo chimes with an insufferable grin. 

"Right tightwad, Johnny baby," Paul smiles as he initiates his signature eyebrow raise. 

George rolls his eyes and nods once in John's direction, his eyes fixed on Paul instead. He pulls out a five dollar bill that he just acquired from the bank after switching it over from English currency, and he hands it to John. 

"Fine, ya right bastard," George sighs. "Cheap arsehole, ya are. Stop spendin' it all on hookers, and maybe ya'd bloody 'ave a dollar!"

Lennon chuckles along, and finally admits with some hesitation, "Fine! I am a cheap arsehole. Just don't talk about me slags that way."