Travel Log: Day 3 of East Coast Trip

* I also added some stuff to my Day 2 post.

NEW YORK

     My first day in New York started in Pennsylvania.  I woke up in the hostel and looked for a simpler route across town, specifically to the University of Pennsylvania and then to 30^th Street Station.  I was both happy and irritated to discover that there is a street called Arch that spanned the entire distance I needed to travel, furthermore, the street was within blocks from the hostel and the station.

     My bike was retrieved from the basement before dawn.  It was just me and the on-duty employee so I decided to ask him about how he got into this job at the hostel.  He informed me that his first hostel position came through Craigslist for a New Orleans hostel.  Then a friend hooked him up with the Philadelphia hostel.  We also discussed some other things related to travel.  I can’t decide who I liked more: my bunk-mate or this hospitality man.  Then I was off onto the cool, crisp streets of Philadelphia.

     The University of Pennsylvania was nearly empty when I arrived.  It struck me as rather small for an Ivy League campus, but urban campuses tend to run small. 

     Finally, it was time to head to the station where I could catch the bus to New York.  However, first I bought lip balm since Pennsylvania had been more arid than I expected.

     The Washington D.C. loader complained a little about how heavy my folding bike was, whereas, the Philadelphia loader was totally chill, turning down my attempt to help.  This time I reserved a special upper level window seat.  Although very similar, the fall color seemed richer, especially the reds, than on the road from Washington D.C. to Philadelphia.  

     On The Road

     My enjoyment of the trip was impacted by two issues, one minor and one major.  On the minor side was having to listen to an older sister oohing and awing (right behind me) at her younger sister’s picturesque photos from some countryside home and short hike.  On the major side was the fact that my card had filled up with photos and I had no backups nor had I brought the necessary hardware to transfer my photo, which meant that both time and money would be lost to solving this issue upon arriving in New York City. 

     The Megabus entered the heavily trafficked city by a long tunnel.  It was surreal finally seeing the seemingly endless rows of skyscrapers as I had seen so often on film and video.  My first stop was to a somewhat ghetto street where many grungy shops and vendors were concentrated.  When I went to lock my bike I realized my keys weren’t in my pocket.  I then checked every possible area of my bags and still I found no keys.  Indeed, I lost my keys somewhere between 30^th Street Station and this first stop.  Hence, I had to carry my bike inside every stop from there on.  And, go figure, this part of town was no help.
     Before continuing on my electronics store quest, I decided to get brunch at a New York University dining hall.  I was looking forward to a nostalgic buffet-style college meal on this trip, which was originally going to be at the University of Pennsylvania, but it didn't open early enough.  Even though the NYU dining hall was expensive, it was still a value compared to most of the city.  I got a table with an Asian mother and her slender son, her son's shirt matched the color of my bike (so I felt comfortable leaving it unsecured next to them, not to mention that it is heavy and bulky).  I called my mom and shared with her my trials and tribulations as well as my triumphs, which was helpful. 

     I then tried Staples, which was too expensive.  Finally, I found a Best Buy (I think, anyways), which had an SD Card-to-USB adapter, which would work, and was the cheapest option (under ten dollars).  After this I went to Starbucks and spent at least half an hour transferring all my photos to my Microsoft tablet and then clearing the SD card.

     With the new card I headed to Central Park via Columbus Circle.  I rode all around the park along the bike path, which goes east, then north, then west, and then south.  Overall, the ride was fairly relaxed, but one stretch near the northern tip had a fairly challenging hill, but I’ve been on much worse.  I took advantage of a few lookouts, including one near The Great Lawn, but I missed the bridges (the Gapstow and Bow).  The whole park is quite overwhelming and I think one has to commit to a small portion to have a proper experience. 

     Central Park was a wholly decentralizing experience, it went by too fast.  Security guards made sure bikes, cars, and pedestrians kept to their proper lanes.  A foreign senior citizen tourist asked me where the John Lennon tribute area was, but I sadly didn’t know.  I also remember a white kid was keeping up with me or I was keeping up with him.  Then a black kid came up and he was keeping at the same pace.  After awhile the black kid seemed to make the blowjob signal with his hand at me and then he sped off and rode his ass out of the park.  I was grateful for the scene; after all, I finally had a Central Park experience, one all my own.       

     It was getting dark so I decided it was time to check into the hostel.  Fortunately, New York’s grid was clear as a razor, I had no problem reading street signs and the directions made sense.  I crossed over to Brooklyn on the Manhattan Bridge.  

     I arrived at the address for the hostel (a few blocks from the bridge), which looked more like a private residence than a hostel.  There was a young black man laughing frequently at his laptop, and older black man who called someone about me, and an older Indian (as in India) walking around as if in a daze.  I was told to wait.

     After about twenty minutes, a big, bald black man drives up.  My bike is retrieved and put in the trunk of his car ad he tells me to get in.  Then he drives me at least a few miles deeper into Brooklyn, which drags on and on in the traffic and in my uncertainty.  Additionally, he was listening to some obnoxious electro-rap-dance music that sucked ass.  Furthermore, he kept trying to call his wife or girlfriend (or whoever) on video with great difficulty.  When I finally see and hear her, she looks and sounds (very slow mumbling) like she is strung out on drugs.  On a positive note, he talked to me about California and how he loved driving through the desert on a past vacation.  Finally, we pull up to the other hostel, which is a little nicer but so much farther away.   

     Once again I had to wait.  Finally, another black man, younger and with short hair, comes in and orients me and charges me, which fortunately was cheaper than I was expecting (probably because of the location).  However, this was the worst hostel: it wasn’t cheap enough, it was inconveniently located, they had no coffee other than some almost used up instant, and the bathroom was more confined and icky than most.

     Since I had a long day ahead, I decided to go to sleep early after some updated route research.