Hurry Up, So You Can Wait
Hurry Up, So You Can Wait
My trip to North America was an adventure.
I met new friends and visited old friends. I spent Christmas relaxing at home. Here are the highlights and lowlights, in bite-sized vignettes:
• I hauled my luggage into the streets, searching for a taxi to take me to the Airport Express train station. I was passed up by no fewer than five available cabs. They weren't ignoring me; they weren't paying attention. I got picked up by the dumbest taxi driver in Hong Kong.
He didn't know where the station was. Despite my repeated attempts to explain, he drove at a snail's pace, picking his way through traffic.
To make things worse, when we turned onto the correct road, he exited early, plopping us smack in the middle of a traffic jam.
Exasperated, I had him stop at the Central MTR station, yanked my bags out and walked the rest of the way. Instead of a nice, quick and comfortable ride, I reached the Airport Express station angry, perspiring and muttering: "I hope that's the glitch for the mission."
• All airports have the same motto: Hurry up, so you can wait. After two delays my flight was airborne. The seats on the new Airbus 340 were a lot more comfortable than those of the Boeing 747. I wasn't thrilled with the meals, though. Air Canada has a long way to go to match the service, hospitality and quality of Cathay Pacific. Prior to landing in Vancouver, they served breakfast: a nasty egg-like substance that was inedible. Don't even ask about the so-called bacon.
• First moment of reverse culture shock: All the signs at Vancouver airport were in English and French. Where was the Chinese?
• I picked up my bags after clearing customs and immigration, but as I made my way to the connecting counter, a long queue had formed. Air Canada had only four counters and even fewer staff on hand to handle the traffic. Two, to be exact.
Near the back of the queue, some jerk began beaking off in a loud voice about the queue's length. Everyone else was just as tired, but no one else was bitching but him. If he'd taken a moment to look, he would have noticed the separate queue for Business Class passengers.
When he got into that line, he bitched some more. Air Canada staff shunted off some of the load to other counters elsewhere in the airport, and he went with them, much to the relief of the rest of us. He acted as though Business Class passengers were the Potentates of the Earth, yet he had no class. He may have had the money to fly in the pointy end of the plane, but the loser needed the manners as well.
• More reverse culture shock: coming in for a landing over Edmonton International Airport, the hectares of farmland and the vastness of the space, along with farm houses festooned with Christmas lights, blew me away. I'd forgotten what that looked like.
• C-C-Cold! Wow, -15C felt a lot colder than I remembered; that used to be t-shirt weather. That's what I for spending more than three years in a hot climate.
• When I got back to my old house, I repacked for a trip to Newark the next day. It was late, and I had to be up at 6.15 to make the early flight. After a brief visit with my stepmother, I passed out.
• Security at the various airports was tighter, but I noticed no appreciable difference in the length of time it took to get through it. I was amazed at the idiots who tried to take sharps on board, then stood scratching their heads while security explained why they couldn't. One moron had several packs of sharp scissors and was arguing about taking them in his carry-on bag.
• Banking into the pattern approaching Toronto's Pearson International, I was treated to the coolest natural special effect. The sun was to the right side of plane; I was looking out the left window. As we passed low-lying clouds, the rays of the sun enveloped the plane and projected its full shadow onto the clouds. The shadow was surrounded by a circular rainbow corona.
• Clearing U.S. Immigration was fun. A nervous drug dog paced about while the guy at the counter stared at me with dead fish-eyes as he compared my face to the passport photo. It was hard to imagine he had even the tiniest trace of a sense of humour; they're trained to look that way. Good thing I'm not a doper.
• The approach into Newark came after nightfall. The whole
city sparkled and twinkled like bright light off a cut diamond. I've never seen city lights move that way; it was an unexpected delight!
• A stroke of luck! My flight arrived ahead of schedule and I caught the Airporter shuttle van to JFK on its final run of the day, which meant no travelling on commuter trains as I'd planned. It shaved off more than an hour of travel time.
At the counter I was served by a sweet middle-aged black woman who kept calling me baby, and I liked it! A younger black woman who led me outside to the shuttle stop was friendly as well. I thought that if everyone in New Jersey was this nice, then I'd be glad to visit again. I left with a big grin on my face.
• During the ride to JFK, I noticed an unpleasant odor worming its way into the van. So that's what everyone was talking about when they mentioned Jersey.
• From the Verrazzano Bridge, the skyline of Manhattan looked naked without the Twin Towers. The driver said they'd pulled six bodies from the rubble that day. Sobering.
• I had a bad moment at JFK when I called my friend Lisa to let her know I'd arrived earlier and at a different location than expected. Both of her numbers came back as not in service. I thought: What, she knew I was coming and moved? It took a moment to realise I had to use the area code.
Fifteen minutes later Lisa and her sister Randi came tearing around the corner in Lisa's Mitsubishi Eclipse. Both jumped out of the car and ran over to me, giving me huge welcoming hugs and smooches. It was weird seeing them in person after viewing them by web cam. They looked better than they did online. *Rowr*.
• I got an exclusive tour of Lisa's home, something few mortals have been privileged to see. I was interested in her office: the only room I'd ever seen on cam. It was neat seeing it from the reverse perspective. I presented gifts I'd brought from Hong Kong, which they were excited to receive.
• Another moment of reverse culture shock: We went to TGIF's for dinner, which was next door to my hotel. American food portions are freaking huge, and the food is heavy. I never eat that much at a serving any more.
• I stayed in the Hotel Room from Hell. You know you're in trouble when the mattress has a set of plastic sheets underneath the regular sheets, and the ceiling has plugs where the mounts used to be for a huge mirror. Ugh. More fun ensued the next morning, when the hot water in the shower lasted three seconds. There's nothing like an ice-cold shower to get the heart racing and the blood pumping. I never knew I could shower so fast.
• Lisa and Randi took me to an authentic New York diner for breakfast. Again, the food portions overwhelming: they served huge plates crammed with food. The waitress enquired whether I wanted to order anything on the side. I declined; I don't need a coronary bypass, thank you very much.
Later, as we drove around, each time we passed a diner, which were everywhere, Lisa announced with glee: Diner! She drove at high speed (she drove everywhere at high speed) to Jones Beach on Long Island, where we froze our asses at the boardwalk as the cold wind coming off the Atlantic cut through our clothing. Soon we went back to her place to relax. We made some of the Lychee tea I'd brought.
• Lisa's cat, Leidagirl, loved me. Normally afraid of strangers, she warmed up to me from the beginning. She rubbed her head against my hand and curled her body around my legs. I'd taken allergy medicine, and though deathly allergic to felines, I suffered no major reaction. If her cat loves me, then I must be a good guy. I should be in Lisa's good books for quite a while.
• We went for lunch at Paddy McGee's, a waterfront restaurant. The atmosphere was relaxed and the food was great. Every table had tall jars with big honking foot-long breadsticks. Cockroaches could pole-vault with those things.
• Later in the evening we watched a Christmas movie at Lisa's place and ordered authentic New York pizza. Another first! Pizza at Lizza's. It was greasy and delicious.
• On the way back to the hotel, we stopped by Randi's apartment and met Lisa's parents. Though we caught them in the middle of dinner, they were hospitable. Lisa's dad gave me a tour of his home, which looked cozy and warm; he was proud of it, with good reason. From there it was back to the rubber-sheet motel for one last night.
• The first leg of the trip was fun, albeit short-lived, but I got to see how my friends lived, where they grew up and what shaped them as people. I got to see little idiosyncrasies that aren't visible on the web. For example, Lisa tends to vent while driving. That's why she'll never need a psychiatrist; she uses what I call New York Therapy: when she goes into a bar, five minutes later sailors come running out.
• The places I visited felt alien and strange, yet at the same time, I saw how wonderful and comfortable they could be. The people were warm, decent and real.
More than anything, I wanted to know they were genuine, and that's what I got.
January 18, 2002
Next Tale - First, We Take Manhattan