Chapter 1 - Getting There

Having a couple of assignments due and two midterms preceding the journey, and having to do most of the driving, including the NYC chaos and the every-man-for-himself tollbooth gauntlets, I was exhausted to say the least. The exhaustion continued to Monday when I returned home around 6:00 am and promptly enjoyed an uninterrupted sleep until 5:00 pm. Fatigue made the whole trip a bit of a blur, but then again, so is any well done trip.

Besides the near-incident at the border with my brother's expired passport, the fiascos did not begin until we actually hit the city. Before entering Lincoln Tunnel you are presented with an array of 15 toll gates in a dizzying permutation of the following states: open, closed, car, truck, bus, ezpass, cash. Every gate has some combination of these options with the only condition that closed and open are mutually exclusive (it cannot be both open and closed at the same time).

You have to quickly find a gate that satisfies the following criteria: open, car, cash. In order to make this reality TV show as exciting as possible, you must battle with a parking lot full of vehicles: buses and semi-trailers that can crush you, new expensive cars that would cost a fortune to repair, damaged cars that don't care if they hit you, and "luxury SUVs" that can crush you AND cost a fortune to repair. All vehicles want to get to the gate on the opposite side of you.

Now for the twist: The gates change configuration in real-time!! No sooner had I said the words, "Man, it would really suck if our gate closed and we had to aim for the only other cash one way over there" did our gate close and we had to aim for the only other cash one way over there. On Carter's daring suggestion, we turned back to the closed gate at the last minute and snuck in behind the last few vehicles in line. It only involved cutting across the path of a semi-trailer. How's that for some New York style driving?

My next piece of fun was when we put the car into parking for the weekend. The hotel has an arrangement with a parking facility in the next block over and of course it's valet parking. How often do I use valet parking in say, Calgary, Waterloo, or even Toronto? If you guessed never, you would be right. So after hustling our gear out of the van, getting a ticket stub and handing over the key, we successfully stowed the vehicle.

That went well, I thought to myself, beaming. "Did you tip the guy?" Asks Carter.

We had to go back later that night to retrieve the guidebook we left by mistake. It was the same guy who took our car earlier. As he accompanied me up the winding ramps, the tension was palpable. Of course as the driver, I have to be the one who goes to retrieve the book. "How's it going tonight!" I ask. No response. Boy, if looks could kill. Next time I left the tipping to Carter.

On Friday night we were all tired, we came, we saw, we left conquering to the next day.

Chapter 2 - There

On Saturday we woke up bright and early around noon. Today was the day of the highly anticipated breakdance battle, however, Carter had been unable to reach the organizer and we were becoming sceptical as to the battle's existence. Nevertheless, we set off to do some shopping, sight seeing and bboy (breakdance) viewing.

We went to the Soho area. They have all the big designer stores that seem to be absent in even Canada's biggest cities, but popular elsewhere in the world where "affluenza" occurs. Versace, Agnes B, Burberrey, Helmut Lang, J. Lindeberg...

Before noticing those stores, however, at street level there are all sorts of artists at work peddling their trades. Many painters. We also came across an a cappella group singing on a stairwell. A girl knitting hats.

We dined at Da Nico in Little Italy. The waiter was serious, but friendly and presumably apprehensive at first about letting four tourist-kids into his restaurant that has been patronized by, amongst others, the former Mayor Rudolph Guliani, and the Captain of the Yankees. The food was delicious and the price very reasonable.

We went to see the site of the former World Trade Center towers. I was in Hong Kong during the attack and felt sick watching the events unfold on a communal TV in the university. The scene of smouldering buildings looked like the visual effects from a movie. Seeing the huge excavation pit in New York did not make the event seem any less surreal and, if anything, perhaps slightly more surreal.

Thoughts of the tragedy sent the same chills down my spine that visiting the site of the first atomic bombing in Hiroshima did. How one person can kill another, especially someone he has never met, is beyond me.

The next site was a little more cheerful. We went to Battery Park in Southern Manhattan to take in the view of the monument mistakenly referred to by Carter as "The Eiffel Tower" that was in fact "The Statue of Liberty". It's much farther away from everything than implied by the movies and I got a better look at the replica in Odaiba in Tokyo. However, nothing beats the real thing set against the backdrop of a sunset in the crisp air of early spring.

Chapter 3 - The Confession

It was about 7:00 pm and about time that we head over to Staten Island for the breakdance battle. A quick survey of the troops revealed that enthusiasm for the trip to "Only The Strong" was at an all-time low. Richard, though he would have enjoyed the show, has no real interest in bboying. Ben was vaguely interested though he stopped actively breaking a while ago. Carter was sort of into it, but probably more keen on seeing the city. My enthusiasm for the battle was all but entirely erased when we made the decision that I would be retrieving the van from parking and driving all the way to Staten Island.

So we decided to try and reach the organizer of the battle again and carter managed to get through on his mobile phone. Apparently the event was well underway, "hype", and approximately 200 people were attending. We were also told that since the event was scheduled to end in two hours, and we were in Manhattan it would not be worth our time to make the trip. I felt disappointed and relieved at the same time.

It seems a little ridiculous that we drove at least 20 hours under a tight schedule and budget in the midst of exams, assignments, and work, and it ended up being "too difficult" to get to the battle. Perhaps with more planning, foresight, or commitment we would have made it. I wish I had seen the competition, but by no means do I feel it diminished the success of our trip.

We did manage to see some bboying in the end. On our last morning we saw some bboys on the street breaking for money!! Two were dancing and one was walking around with a collection hat. That is possibly the first and last time I will see something like that. But I am jumping ahead.

After the attempt to ostensibly confirm the details and existence of the event and the subsequent decision to abort our journey to attend, we sought food, perused the shops, and explored a little at night.

We stopped in Washington Square to pose for some goofy photos standing on some pedestals near the arch when a genuine bling bling New Yorker dressed like Sean "P. Diddy" Combs came running up to Carter and said "Can I be in your flick? Lemme be in your flick!" My brother snapped the photo and the guy said "Thanks man!" and ran off. Carter felt the guy deserved all the gratitude.

We returned exhausted to the hotel. I walked to the bed. Sat down at the foot. Leaned back, and passed out. I awoke a few hours later to a scene that looked like a gas attack. Carter was on his side lying on the other bed. Ben was prostrate on the floor by the bathroom door. Richard was in a similar position on the floor at the foot of my bed. The lights were still on.

After completely failing to find nightlife on Friday night, I was absolutely determined that I would find somewhere on Saturday night. Believing from Friday night's discussions that the rest of the crew were not to keen on seeking out a party, especially at 1 am, and especially at the potential cost of $30 US cover charges, I decided not to wake anyone and set out by myself.

Chapter 4 - Fashion 40

I consulted the magazine TimeOut that I purchased on Friday night by recommendation of a bartender. Combining that with an Internet search I had a short list of night life spots to check out. I put on some light-fabric dark navy trousers, a tight white sleeveless shirt, a dark grey light wool sweater on top, some black shoes and my stylin' jacket. Prepared for any scene.

I could not find the first club on the list where I expected, so I explored around the corner of the street where I found a tall black New York bouncer wearing a nice coat. A few trendy early-twenty-somethings spilling onto the streets. And the subdued pulsating bass of a party emanating from behind the curtained french doors. A red velvet rope between two supports marking the empty place a queue might be found.

"Excuse me, what's the name of this club?" said I.

"It's not a club, it's a lounge." replied bouncer.

"What's the name of this lounge?" smiling.

"Fashion 40."

"Cool." Smiling even more now that I knew I had found the place I was looking for. "You're open till 4?"

"Yeah."

What's the cover?"

"No cover." Even cooler.

"Cool. Can I come in?"

"You'll have to go around."

I humoured him and walked around the velvet rope. He seemed like a nice guy despite the apparent futility of making me walk around the rope.

"Can I see some ID?"

I thumbed through to the page with my photo and produced my passport for him to inspect. He took one look at the passport, one look at me, and started to laugh. I should explain that my passport photo is a black and white photo of me with short curly hair, a big ridiculous grin, and a tightly buttoned shirt with no tie. It looks like a bad yearbook photo from the [insert unfashionable decade here].

"I'm sorry! It's just that you looked like a model!... Haha!"

"That's ok." I said.

"Well, so do you model?"

Flattery will get you everywhere and there's nothing better for the ego than being asked if you model by someone in New York! I could tell this was going to be a good night.

I stepped inside and immediately enjoyed the look of the place. I scanned the room and after deciding I would stick around for a while, I headed for the bar. I ordered a scotch on ice.

"What kind?"

"Glenfiddich."

"12 dollars please."

That seemed kind of pricey until, unlike the bars and clubs I am used to, the girl just opened the bottle and filled the glass. No measuring out with the little shot glass. This is a swanky lounge in New York after all...

I proceeded upstairs and found a ledge at the top of the stairs that I could lean against, rest my drink, view the scenery, and not look too awkward without any friends. The first good thing to happen was a really attractive waitress bounced up to me and said "Wow! Your hair looks just like my boyfriend's! I thought 'hey, Mike is here!'"

I decided that looking like her boyfriend must mean I'm doing OK. ego+1.

Shortly after that encounter, I spot two girls and a guy walking up the stairs. They reach the top, and one of the girls, on her way past me, locks eyes with mine and strokes her hand across my mid-section as she walks by. Woah.

She walked to the opposite corner of the room and sat down on the couch with her friends. I looked around at my options and decided that even if I was not interested in her, this would be a good opportunity to start mingling. I walked over to their couch and sat down.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all." Said the guy. "My name's

I supposed I should change the names in case any of the people in this story ever read this. You never know. They can figure out who they are, but who knows who knows who. Or whatever Rumsfeld said. Anyway,

"Not at all." Said the guy. "My name's Eddy."

"Hi I'm William."

"My name's Anna."

"Hi, my name's William."

Finally, the girl who had brushed against me earlier.

"Hi, my name's George."

"Sorry?" I said.

"George."

"I'm really sorry, I can't really hear you..."

"George!"

"You heard right" said Eddy.

"Like the guys name" said George.

That was interesting. So we chatted for a while though what was really tempting me was the dance floor so I said "Let's go dance!" Reluctantly George and friends joined me.

After we hit the dance floor, George was not so reluctant and began grinding with me. Heavily. I tried to reciprocate politely without sending any signals that were too strong.

Eventually I managed to excuse myself and escaped to the bathroom. While waiting for a room - there were two private toilets, not boys and girls rooms with rows of stalls and urinals - who should appear but, yup, George. One stall promptly vacated and the perfect movie moment arose where I could have taken George's hand and guided her into the privacy of the washroom for each of us to explore our respective fantasies without fear of interruption.

I quickly stepped through the door, alone, closed it, and in the same motion locked it behind me. Close call.

This gave me the time and space I needed to devise a plan. I exited the washroom and she entered. I waited for her to finish and on our way back, I said "I only want to dance and have fun tonight."

"Nothing else?"

"Nothing else."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Ok, I understand." She said smiling.

So we danced some more and eventually she popped the question: "Do you like Mexican boys?"

"Sorry?"

"DO YOU LIKE MEXICAN BOYS??"

Again, I had heard correctly. Apparently she had "understood" that I was gay. Next thing I know I was being introduced to guys. She had forgotten my name was William and was introducing me as Shawn. Fair enough.

So we danced some more and she posed another conundrum: "My friend has a boyfriend and she's hooking up with another guy."

"Huh?"

She pointed behind us and it turned out to be none other than Anna and Eddy. "My friend Anna is about to cheat on her boyfriend! What should I do?"

So I said, "Take her aside, reminder about what she is doing, but ultimately, it's her decision."

"That's good advice!" said George and she went to have a chat with Anna.

Soon Eddy was talking to me. "Hey, I'm dancing with this girl, I'm about to hook up with her! But she has a boyfriend! This is crazy!"

"Go for it man!" I said.

Over the course of the night I chatted with Eddy, got picked up on the dance floor by another couple of girls, got told by one of them that she admired how I went out alone and the "I could be a New Yorker."

George produced her mobile phone at the end of the night, typed in "Sha" and asked if my name was spelled with a "w". I was about to correct her, and then I just took the phone, punched finnished off "Shaun" and gave her my number. "Promise me you'll find a sexy boy tonight!"

"Ok!" I said as she left.

Eventually I said my goodbyes and chatted up "Pete" the bouncer on the way out. If you're in New York, go to "Fashion 40" and tell them "Will from Canada" sent you. It won't get you anything, but I'm sure eventually something interesting will come of it.

I returned to my hotel room where everyone was sleeping soundly on the beds and the chamber no longer looked like the scene of a gas attack. I wrote some postcards and bid goodnight to the city of lights, action, and Mexican boys.

Epilogue

The following day and the return trip weren't nearly exciting enough to warrant any more energy and sleep loss detailing them considering I have a midterm exam and Japanese speech due tomorrow. Writing takes a lot of time, so please post a comment if you enjoyed my story!

On Sunday we met with Carter's cousin from New Jersey and ate at the ESPN sports center restaurant. Carter handled all the tipping at the valet parking smoothly and I suggested he look into bribery since since the action is often (physically) similar.

After that, we drove home.