Come on Irene...

So after much drama and hideous inconvenience to start with, I am finally, actually on holidays. Day 1 and Day 2 were not completely awful, but they were the days that my plans all went astray so we aren't friends.

Day 3...well, guess the third's a charm. My flights did not get cancelled, I actually flew into New York with a bit of blue sky around! Fairly rough in and out of North Carolina though - I actually physically lifted off my seat at one stage which was pretty cool. Having run out of credit on my phone and being unable to contact the girl I am staying with, I was forced to scab the free wi-fi at the Amtrak station to email her, hoping wildly that she would receive it in the half hour before I turned up at her apartment.

I managed to navigate the subway, complete with token crazy people, to the apartment building. Once there, I realised I didn't know exactly which apartment number I was supposed to buzz. Damn, no credit, no free wi-fi anywhere, heavy bags...poop. I sat on the step as I contemplated my next move, pouring sweat in the humid temperature and surely looking an incredible sight. A girl, about my age, was heading into the building. I took a chance and asked her if she knew the girl I was supposed to be staying with. "Are you Kim?" she asks me. Either this blog has gone world-wide and turned me into an overnight celebrity, or I am staying with her.

She is most definitely not a scumbag, and the apartment is great. So I am one-up on the holiday successes now, after a couple of dismal failures. I go for a wander around the area, in Harlem, and have the greatest time people watching. I could stay here forever. My favourite experience was the liquor store, where I went to get a bottle of wine for me and my host. You cannot touch a single bottle. There are clear plastic walls up, and you look at the booze, make your selection, talk through the cut-out holes at the people on the other side, and they grab your choice for you. You pay through the little slidey-hole, just like at the subway, and they slide the bottle through a gap in the plastic walls. It is awesome. I am in the ghetto.

My lovely host asks me if I want to go out for drinks with some friends of hers - one of them is a guy from Brisbane and she figures we can talk Australian to each other. Sounds delightful. We head down to the East Village and meet a bunch of the drunkest people I have ever seen in my life. One of them is wearing a moon boot on his broken foot and it is giving off a "something crawled into my moon boot and died" smell. A girl is asleep in her seat, despite the loud shenanigans going on around her. One guy has apparently been in a fight as his shirt is ripped at the back - I discover later that in fact, the shirt has been ripped for some months now but it is his favourite so he continues to wear it. A boy tries to urinate in the pot plants out the front of the bar - this is the Australian, of course. The bar is awful. I smile - it is awesome. I am in New York City.

We visit a dive bar. There are $3 shots, and our Brisbane friend buys us a beer. I think this is nice of him, as I've only just met him, until I taste the beer. I'm not a beer drinker at all, I think the stuff is rather yuck, but this was by far the worst beer experience I have ever had. He calls it a PBR, it's Pabst Blue Ribbon and they are $2 a can. I have a brief flashback to my backpacking days and think I have been here before. I sigh. When in Rome...

Several PBR's and a third seedy bar later, I begin to think the stuff is not so bad and a definite bargain for $2 each. I also think that because I am thinking this, it is time to go home.

This morning I woke up with a pounding headache and the light still on. It has not subsided, and I am almost glad that there is a hurricane outside and I have an excuse to laze about all day and nurse my poor hangover.

On the other hand, I am thinking of all the incredible photos I could be taking in New York during a hurricane. Deserted streets, dramatic black clouds, there are some winners to be had I am sure. But I have promised my worried parents and everyone that I will be safe, so I stay here. I am itching to pick up my camera but there is really no point because the Subway has been closed and I can't get where I want to be anyway. So worried parents, you win, and I am safe, thanks to Mayor Bloomberg's emergency contingency plans. And I suffer, and dream of the photos that will not be mine today...

Things aren't so bad, I am checking news bulletins and the storm has been downgraded to a Category 1. Ok, so it's still a hurricane, but technically now it's more of a tropical storm. I am not going to be washed away today. And tomorrow, there will be more fun New York adventures to be had. I just hope my friends can make it soon...please travel gods, you have punished me enough this week. Please open the trains and planes for my friends to share this holiday with me, I will be forever grateful and (probably) never curse you again...

I am in New York City. There's a hurricane outside. It is awesome.