New York

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Fung Wahhhhhhh????

Sunday, December 9th, 2007

I am convinced that the loneliest feeling in the world is walking through the streets of New York on a Sunday morning all by one’s self, pulling over 100 lbs. of luggage, and having to navigate the stairs down into the subway. Oh, and then to eject said self from the train straight back up the stairs into Chinatown, and lug one’s belongings like a pack mule, searching for the Fung Wah bus to Boston – which, by the way, provides no guarantee that it will make it to Boston without exploding on the freeway or blowing a tire. A regular occurrence, I’m told.

Thus began my morning.

When I finally arrived at the ticket window, my hands were blistered from pulling my bags, and I could scarcely sign my name on the form for my shaking extremities. I loaded my suitcases onto the bus, and boarded.

This is where I realized that God never wastes anything. Thinking back to September, my sister’s dog Gabe barfed on the backseat of my car, and I almost barfed right on top of it. I now know that that unsavory event was simply in preparation for the smell on-board the Fung Wah. It was as if the good Lord gave me an early, preparatory dosage of repulsive stench to ready and steady me for today’s odor.

Luckily, I secured a window seat, and wound up sitting behind two teenage kids who were sharing one set of iPod earbuds and a box of Frosted Flakes. Note to self: do not chew dry cereal in public. The crunch very well could earn you a good throttling.

The hoodlum behind me failed to silence the obnoxious ringer on his cell phone, and talked continuously to his various homies. “Yo, dawg, what up? Ah, I’m on the bus. You know how it is.” Sir? Do they, really?

We embarked on what can only be described as a terrifying journey in a glorified sardine can, hurtling across New England. But how can I complain? For $15 and in just 4 hours, it got me where I was going: Boston, to Christina’s Beacon Hill apartment, with exposed brick walls, and wine and cheese and olives waiting on the table.

More about the end of my New York adventure tomorrow. Until then, Boston beckons.

Never stopping, never sleeping

Friday, December 7th, 2007

My name is Annie Parsons, and this is the longest day of my life.

I am finally home after a 2 1/2 hour subway adventure, trying to make my way home to Heidi’s. I left my friends Sarah and Alex’s place at 11:15, and thought, “I can make it back – no problem.” I would have, too, if the train didn’t straight up STOP RUNNING. Everybody off. No more service. This train is returning to Queens.

Luckily, I was saved by this man, who I followed like a little lost puppy to a bus. He graciously gave me directions to where I needed to go. In return, I told him how to find my blog (shameless advertising to strangers in New York). So if he finds it, HI KEITH!

Other than the long journey home tonight, my day was filled with friends, and food, and enough walking to bore a remarkable hole in each heel. It will be a miracle if I make it to Boston still standing.

My life as a slapstick comedy

Tuesday, December 4th, 2007

After hours of travel yesterday, and even more hours of travel today, I disembarked the plane, gathered my luggage, walked through the sliding glass doors, victoriously breathed in the air… and promptly tripped. Fell on my face, deeply skinning both knees and tearing my new jeans.

Welcome to New York.

My left knee is especially bad – a huge goose egg of a welt threatening to burst through my pants, and a deep cut that almost caused me to bleed to death on the hour-long subway ride from the airport. Maybe I’m a sissy, but it hurts. It hurts to walk, it hurts to bend, it hurts to lower my body down into a chair. Luckily, my sweet friend Heidi provided me with Neosporin, a huge bandage, and an icepack, and I have been able to pick the cotton scraps and gravel from the wound. We’ll see if I’m recovered enough to take the City by foot tomorrow.

First stop: “The Lion King.” Naaaaaa – sa – bwen – yaaaaahhh!!!