The Eejit

Chapter 17: Breakfast In America

Fiona saw me off at the airport.

I said goodbye to her at the gate and walked with legs of lead, utterly bewildered towards the security barrier wishing that I could turn round and tell her the truth.

This was about as ridiculous as my life was ever going to get.

I had been completely silent when I wasn't going out with her and as a result I had let the best part of year subside without letting her know I liked her. Now that I was going out with her, I was still too much of a pussy to tell her that I'd rather be an accountant if it meant that we could be together. Rock and roll is all about playing it cool and so I had blindly followed the form book and yet again I had decided to play it cool – The Cleef - and as a result, I was moving to another country. Nice one, Toby.

I cut a pathetic figure in the smokey confines of the rear few seats of the plane. Fiona had told me I should let them know in advance what I liked to eat which I had dismissed at the time as an idea as ridiculous as telling them what I liked to do at weekends. She had done more long hall flying than I and as I sat curled up on a double seat in the caboose of the plane, I longed for her to be there, telling the airline staff what I preferred to eat and what I liked to do at the weekend as well. The silence I now endured had been my own choice. The flight was a mixture of red wine, Benson and Hedges and snatched sleep.

American Airlines flight AA whateveritwas touched down at JFK in the land of the free and following a $60 cab ride into Manhattan (about double what it should be) I moved into my allotted digs; a hotel on the lower Eastside of Manhattan, called the Hotel 17.

Now, Hotel 17 may have been so named because it was on E17th between 2nd and 3rd Avenue, or it may have so called because it was 17th in the list of the '20 worst places to stay on Earth', listed in reverse order of course. I fancy the latter.

My room would have offended prisoners.

The only furniture in the room was a single 'bed' that consisted of a thin, stained mattress on a black iron frame that was broken. On top of this was a blanket that you might consider using as a spunk rag had the previous 'inmates' not beaten you to it and a window without curtains that looked out onto the considerable St ServesYouRightForNotGoingToMass Catholic Church, which blocked out the sun completely except for a couple of hours between 6am and 8am when the sun streamed into the curtainless cell like divine retribution. The windows were unopenable. I was trapped.

It was about 7pm on my first evening and that's drinks time in my book so I set out in search of the few places that I knew in Manhattan. I had been to New York once before but didn't know it that well, certainly not well enough to stop the cab driver from the airport ripping me off. I did know where Molly's Shebeen was though and my spirits were lifted by the discovery that it was only a short walk from the detention centre that I was staying in.

Molly's was great. It was in the middle of the block between E22nd and E23rd on 3rd Avenue. I found it after a short but pleasant walk up from St Marks in the East Village towards uptown. Nestled in the heart of the lovely Grammercy Park, Molly's was dark, brooding and had an air of intrigue about it as guests huddled in quietly spoken groups over hearty food and strong liquor. Molly's straddled the border between Irish and Oirish, whilst staying just the right side. Some American bars could get very Oirish indeed but this was ok. The Guinness was pretty good but the lager that they serve is as weaker than the plot of a Jeffrey Archer novel. However, (and splendidly, in my opinion), beer in such places is customarily accompanied by a fucking enormous glass of whiskey and by the time you're onto round four, you are well away. Night one passed without incident apart from me getting totally pissed, which, in fairness, had been the aim. I strode back to my hotel feeling more confident that I wanted to be a resident of Manhattan and a musical one at that. As my head hit the disgusting mattress ticking my eyes closed and sleep took me willingly away from the dispiriting surroundings that would be my home for the foreseeable future.