POSR: To New York, Day 1

POSR sullen in the Subway

I took stock; two guitars, one rolling bag, one little backpack.  I was ready. With luggage stuffed with electronics, I thought it would be would be wise to have myself dropped off at the airport a good two hours prior in case security wanted to give me more than a once-over.

On the way to the airport I noticed the day. It was grey and drizzly all Thursday morning but no longer; at that point the clouds had left, the sun was bright, and the air was clear and cool. I felt a twinge of regret for having to leave such a beautiful day, and a bit of apprehension as to whether I had everything I needed. Then I remembered that I can be resourceful when necessary and that I have  always figured out a way to get by. ‘We are built to survive.’  It was going to be alright; I was leaving a beautiful day but I’m off to another adventure in one of my favorite cities – New York – and in one of my favorite boroughs – Brooklyn.

I just had to get through security.

We get to the airport and I say goodbye to my friend, who gave a heart-felt good luck before driving off. I went to face Continental Airlines.

Austin, Texas has one of my favorite airports. If you give yourself enough time, you realize what a breeze it is to get to your gate. There were but two obstacles; a suit cuts in front of me in the line, and I get charged $50 for my luggage and my guitar. I gave up all the money my friend lent me and some of my own, hand them my bag, take the guitar to the oversize luggage person and head for the security line. They scrutinize my battered I.D. for a hot minute and wave me through. Aside from having to cough up what little money I had, it was a pretty painless trip to the gate.

I had two hours to kill. I found myself a seat facing the tarmac and began my weekend project; picking the best tracks from The Beatles stereo remasters. I started listening to the albums that I felt bridged the gap between their merseybeat roots and their later pop experiments – Revolver and Rubber Soul. Time drifted by on their backbeat. Eventually I got a tap on my shoulder. Jake, his girl Jessica, Adam and Chris have arrived.

The first words out of Adams’ mouth wre, ‘wanna get a drink?’ Despite my budget, I said ‘yes’ without hesitation.  “There’s a bar down there called Campbell’s. I’ll tell them I’m a relation,” Adam said. I gathered my things, hoisted my bass onto my shoulders and we trudged down to the bar. The small bar was completely full. Adam had a bloody mary, I had an over-priced beer. Adam tells me that he barely woke up when his phone rings with Jake on the other line, telling him that he was there to pick him up.

”’Five minutes’ – I threw some dirty clothes in my backpack, and I hopped into his car.”

I noticed that Adam was still wearing the same clothes from the past night’s rehearsal. Impressed, I moved the topic to how slim my budget was. I ordered another beer. He said he was on a slim budget, too, and that he’ll have to figure out a way to find more money in New York. Halfway through our second round of drinks we get the text from Chris that the plane was boarding. We attempted to get halfway through my beer, and failing, we ran for the gate. Success – we were on time and tipsy and merry.

Chris and I are instructed to put our basses in an overhead bin. We found one with space and placed them on top of each other, joking that we might end up with another bass in about nine months. We found our seats – the very last ones on the plane. The stewardesses were sullen and misshapen, and slurred into the microphone like drunks. The pilot sounded like he had laryngitis.

We achieved cruising altitude, settled in, and reached for our respective audio devices – an old iPod nano for me, an iPhone for Chris, and a 15 inch Macbook for Adam. He ordered a double bloody mary.

We were served with ‘Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian,’ a movie Roger Ebert described as ‘like ectoplasm from a medium, it is the visible extrusion of a marketing campaign.’

We were served a salad and a hamburger, which reminded me of the New York Times headline, ‘Woman’s Life Shattered by Hamburger‘ – an expose on the ground beef industry. I scarfed it down anyways, E. Coli be damned.

Adam instructed me to get another tiny vodka bottle. Then he instructed me to get another cup of ice. Then he was happy.

The iPod and the flight lulled me in and out of sleep, to be nudged awake by the passage of large posteriors in the aisles.

Fairly soon we arrived in Newark. As always, people inexplicably rose from their seats when we arrived at the gate, despite the cabin door being closed.

Our basses survived the trip; Chris and I grabbed them and headed out the plane, making sure that Adam was close behind us. We took a trek to the luggage carousels, I found the proper one and we retrieved our bags quickly. Headed to the oversize luggage, crossed my fingers, and got the guitar. It felt intact. To the taxi kiosk. A long line. An old, cheerful black lady attended us. A bit of a struggle to find a cab that will take all five of us, and finally someone did. The long ride from Newark to … The Roosevelt Hotel midtown.

It seemed our manager Traey was in the middle of a musical about Fela Kuti and couldn’t greet us, so he asked two friends to host us until he got out of the theater. The two friends were Mary and Ann, two Asian girls from Toronto. They were incredibly bubbly and friendly. We piled into their little two-bed room and got acquainted.

We plotted drinks and food for Chris; I escaped for a cigarette with Adam downstairs. A door man accosted us and asked us if we were in a band. We groped our way through a conversation about how to go about success, then he invited us to go to the bar on the roof. We went back usptairs to join the others and are convinced by Mary and Ann to join them for one drink. I suggest the roof top bar. We gather and then we make our way there, which required taking a service elevator and having three large men unnecessarily guide us in its use. We got to the roof, stepped out into a dark hallway and onto the balcony. Suits abound. There was actually an Asian American group meeting, so I was surrounded by my expensively dressed brothers and sisters. We were given a low table by a loudspeaker and seated. The air was cool, and we were surrounded by skyscrapers and the successful. It was a bit disorienting, but again we settled in and talked to Mary and Ann. Mutual friends were discovered. The drinks sunk in, and we enjoyed each others’ company.

The time came to feed Chris, who hasn’t seen food since the morning. I suggested stepping out onto the street and seeing what we found. We huddled for a smoke and another Asian American, this time in hard-hat and yellow vest, came to bum one. We asked him where we could find food, and he pointed the way. His eyes were merry. We followed his directions. We found a busy street and I spied a corner market. I suggested that we go in and check it out, and luckily they had the obligatory little deli. Hefty bagels go around. A large plate of fries. A Foster’s lager the size of my head appeared in Adam’s hand.

We learned that people were converging onto our location and so we got beers, brown bags, and waited on the street. An old friend of Adam’s arrived, and more mutual friends were discovered. Traey arrived from his show, with a somewhat lukewarm review. We decided to head to Traey’s loft and said goodbye to Adam’s friend.

Back to the Roosevelt, and Mary and Ann, to retrieve our luggage. Promises to catch up with each other in our respective cities were exchanged and we parted. We cabbed it to Traey’s loft in the Upper West Side – that part of New York unknown to me. I took care of the fare and it tapped me out. We piled out and admired the building, walked in and admired the foyer, and took the elevator to the 14th floor. There were two lofts available to us and so found room for everyone. One of the lofts overlooked the river and the George Washington bridge – a beautiful sight. I sat down with Adam as the rest went out for groceries. We briefly discussed getting into some trouble before the night ended, thought the better of it (at least I did), and decided to rest before the next days’ business meeting. Sleep came to me on the couch, dreams putting three periods after my first days’ sentence.