I (heart) New York — really, I do!
I haven’t driven in more than a week, but boy, have I covered the miles in a whole bunch of unpleasant ways. …
SPOILED
I’ve typically taken Amtrak’s Acela Express for my roundtrip jaunts between D.C. and Manhattan. And last night, in the interest of time, I hopped aboard the Regional Service car and paid the $35 to upgrade to business class. And you know what? It sucked in comparison! All they did for biz class was take a coach car and tape a sign over “Coach Class” to read “Business Class.” The seats were so much less comfy than the Acela’s, and the ride took 45 minutes longer.
The neat thing about the Acela is that it only makes about six stops: BWI Airport, Baltimore, Philly, Wilmington, Del., Newark and Penn Station in New York. But the Regional Service only added Trenton and a couple of others, and I swear, the ride felt like it took forever. Next time, just for the happiness factor of my ass alone, I’m just going to pay the extra $100 and ride the Acela, which is all biz class and is comfy as hell. (And, it only takes a little less than three hours in a nicer car.)
I can be cheap about a lot of things — I won’t pay retail for designer bags/shoes/clothes, I shop the grocery store specials, etc. — but I am one unhappy goddess when my ass hurts. Oh well — I guess it still beats sitting on it all day in an office in a suit. 😉
JUNK IN THE TRUNK
When I left, my car had been buried in an ice avalanche for days … I am looking forward to actually driving — these cabbies are NUTS!
Speaking of cabbies, N.Y. cabs have a “Customer Bill of Rights” that pretty much every driver I had managed to violate. First of all, half of these guys had no idea where to go when I gave them addresses. I’m not going to obscure places — I’m tossing out hotel and restaurant names and telling THEM which direction to go in, which is odd. How can you be a New York cabbie and not know where to go? GAH.
But the worst took me from the train station to the hotel in Chelsea — a $4 ride, really. (I was being lazy and hailed a cab anyway.) So, $20 later (yeah, I know!), I was infuriated because not only did I have to put my own bags into the car, but I had to get them out. I got dropped at the hotel, and after (unfortunately) tipping the asshole with the turban, the B.O. and the cell phone plot done in Arabic to blow up the city (seriously, I don’t know — they’re not supposed to sit on the phone for the whole ride!), I got dragged away while I was still in the trunk.
It’s funny now, I suppose, but it took me so long to get my big, honkin’ suitcase out of the trunk myself that he thought I was done. (I still had a small bag with a laptop in the trunk to fetch.) Anyway, Terrorist-in-Training decided I must have been done (even though I never closed the trunk) — which I wasn’t because the trunk was so DEEP that I had to practically crawl IN to get my second bag — and started driving away. HAH!
He didn’t speak a word of English, but he sure as hell recognized, “HEY ASSHOLE!” because he stopped and I was able to put my FEET ON THE GROUND AGAIN.
Two obnoxious gay men stopped to laugh at me. Which, they reminded me of someone I dislike anyway, and I immediately shot them a big, fat, “FUCK YOU” while I was at it. *kick* No wonder people think I’m a native — my trash-mouth fits right in!
I really do love New York, though. I love that people think I’m coming home when I go there, and I can put up with the assholitry because I have stories to tell when I come home. Because really, how funny is the image of me riding in a cab with my feet sticking out of someone’s trunk? I suppose that’s NOT an unusual occurrence up there! 😉