USA 2013 – Day 1 – Dual Fridays

My first point of contact with America was landing at LAX, where I narrowly missed an airport shooting. The plane from Melbourne into LAX had arrived slightly late and we had a very minimal amount of time to make the transfer to the flight to JFK. As a result we were given express boarding passes and rushed through all security and customs in order to make the flight in time. It was a quick rush and we were very well directed at every turn to make sure we got to the right place. By my calculations it would have been about the time when we were taxiing on the runway about to take off when the shooting at Terminal 3 occurred. Quite scary upon reflection, as the Tom Bradley International Terminal is right next to Terminal 3 and obviously because of the closeness in time.

I’d had plenty enough of flying by that stage, and the additional five or six hours to fly west to east was exhausting. I started to watch a screening of “2 Guns” and I could not follow who was working for who and who was betraying who, so I decided I was much too tired to bother. I managed to have two or three short naps on the plane and arrived into JFK quite exhausted but excited at the prospect of exploring and being in New York City. As soon as I got out of the terminal I was immediately hustled by some black men with notepads asking me where I was going. It appeared it was their job to hustle people into taxis and I don’t even want to think about what they were going to charge. I said I’d be catching the AirTrain into the city and he quickly responded that the AirTrain was not operating today. I can be quite gullible at times but in this instance I definitely smelled bullshit. I politely said that I would be catching the AirTrain when coming back the other way so I’ll just go check it out first regardless. When I got up to the upper platform to catch the AirTrain, they were fine and running as normal. Welcome to the city.

I caught the AirTrain to Jamaica Station and then transferred to the Long Island Railroad to catch a train into Penn Station. Penn Station was my first taste of the New York subway system, and this station is particularly busy (probably the busiest in the entire city) so it was quite a shock to see just how full on the foot traffic was. I got my weekly subway card for $30 and caught for the first time what was to be my favourite subway train: the . A few stops later I got out at 14th Street and walked across to my AirBnB accommodation at Horatio Street. I rang the buzzer of the apartment 4D but there was no response. Having landed with a mobile with no American reception, I was in a slight pickle. I walked down the street looking for a payphone to make a call to the host. I got as far as “The Standard”, still carrying all my luggage. I paused to talk to a man on the street who appeared to be setting up taxis for people leaving The Standard. He worked for The Standard and was kind enough to lend me his mobile phone to make a call after laughing off the suggestion of a payphone (I’m aware they are a bit of a dying art and I did not see one at all while in New York). I got in contact with the host and boy did she like to talk, which was not good since I was on someone else’s phone and completely abusing the privilege. I could barely make out the words she was saying due to the traffic noise and pub noise spilling out onto the street. I did manage to get an address from her, where she had left the keys for the apartment – it was about seven blocks east.

The walk to the apartment block where she had left the keys was long, but I did get the benefit of seeing all the sites of Greenwich Street. There were plenty of Halloween decorations left on the streets and houses from the night before. I found myself at the address where the keys were located and went up to the doorman at the desk to ask for them as instructed. Initially he had no idea what I was talking about but checked on the system for the hosts name. Things weren’t looking promising, and the option of falling down on the ground in utter exhaustion both from the flight and the difficulty of the situation became more and more enticing. The doorman did find a record on the system and low and behold happened to have a sealed bag with some apartment keys on them, addressed to me. Hallelujah!

But if I was to think that things would get better from this point on, I would have been horribly mistaken.

I trudged the seven blocks back to the apartment and arrived back at the front door where I was many hours ago. I remember at this point thinking: “It’s over. I’ve done it. Soon I’ll be in a cosy apartment in bed or having a shower, whatever, just off the street and done travelling”. There were four keys: one for the very front door, one for the next door into the apartment complex, one for the apartment door and another one for the deadlock on the apartment door. I took the key ‘FD1’, as directed by the instructions in the sealed bag, and put it in the front door. The key when in. The key would not turn. I tried for no less than 15 minutes to open the door with the key, trying all variations such as: a little bit in, a little bit out and turn, little bit in and jiggle, left, right etc.

It would not open.

I saw no option but to catch the  all the way up to 79th Street to visit Sarah at her hotel. I would be staying there on some cushions at the very least and the use of her hotel Wi-Fi may help me to resolve this situation. It was good to see Sarah after not seeing her for a few days and being emotionally and cognitively crushed. I had many litres of water and slumped my head on the bed for a small while, explaining all of the events that occurred so far and what was going to be my next move. I couldn’t think of a next move, except to email the host using the hotel Wi-Fi and ask for tips as to why the door would not open.

A response came back not too long after saying that the key had to be jiggled and had to be turned carefully. A reliable door handle would be great if you are setting up your apartment as an accommodation destination, I thought. I had tried for a long time and was thoroughly convinced that it could not be opened for one reason or another. Sarah, not pleased with the thought of me crashing on her hotel floor on some cushions said that we’d both go back and try the lock again. I thought it would be good to take her just to check that I wasn’t doing something utterly retarded. She seems to have more of a knack with life. So we both caught the  downtown back to the apartment and I was back at the door once again. Sarah tried the ‘FD1’ key in the front door and faced exactly the same issues that I did. The key when in but it would not turn, no matter what.

It was at this point that Sarah’s knack for life charms kicked in. As we were tussling with the door handle a man and a woman came up behind us. They looked like they were about to enter the same apartment complex and when we asked them if they were, it was indeed true. The man was aware of the Internet listing for the apartment I was trying to get into so he knew my story checked out in that regard. I said that I’d been having trouble with the front door key and invited him to open the door with his keys to show me how it was done. He put his key in and turned – no issue whatsoever. At this point he got me to open up the second door with my second key to prove that I was indeed entitled to be entering the apartment complex. That key worked with no issue. So we were in, but we were still stuck with a front door key did not work. I invited him at having a go at opening the first door with my first key. He could not do it either. We thanked them for all the help and went upstairs to check it out – I could sleep here for at least tonight and resolve the key situation later.

Upon entering the apartment, I spotted two extra pairs of keys on the table. I picked one set up and compared the FD1 key to the FD1 key that was part of my set. They were different. I went downstairs, leaving Sarah in the apartment and taking my original keys and the new set. At this point my brain was completely cooked and I struggled to comprehend the scenarios of if the new keys didn’t work and which doors I should have left open and whether Sarah would be able to come down and get me in without locking herself out. Anyway, the new set of keys worked all the way up to the apartment. Now I was in. Now I was done.

One last duty: to walk Sarah back down to the 14th Street Station, so she could return back to her hotel. I returned back to the apartment, keys working successfully, and promptly crashed in a heap into bed. I can’t remember how late it was but it was well past midnight and I had indeed suffered that the full wrath of the dual Fridays.

Welcome to New York.