Sunday in the park with...me myself and I

Sunday

Good heavens – an early alarm call! We had to be out of the apartment by 10am. J set off for the airport soon after 9am and then I just had to check out and kill time for five hours. I thought I would take the opportunity to explore some more art galleries in Chelsea so I walked up to 25th Street between 9th and 10th Avenues before realising the flaw in my plan – private art galleries are closed on Sundays. Doh! I walked along to 7th and 28th and took the subway up to 42nd Street and Times Square, bought myself a coffee and sat in Bryant Park for an hour or so writing. I then followed Broadway up to Central Park and found a pleasant rock on which to bask, watching a man on a unicycle go around and around. Eventually it was time to make a move so I took a subway back down to 14th Street (sitting opposite a man with a parrot on his shoulder), picked up my suitcase from Chelsmore Apartments and hopped in a taxi to Newark International Airport. I felt strangely nostalgic as the taxi drove me through the streets, past the cafes, bars and landmarks which had become so familiar. Through the Holland Tunnel and out onto the freeway across New Jersey above container parks and shopping malls. I checked in at the airport and then found a bench outside in the sun where I sat and wrote for an hour or so, with the Manhattan skyline twinkling in the sun on the distant horizon. Reluctantly I queued to go through security (shoes off) and down to the featureless departure gate. Thank goodness for mind-bending prose of Ben Okri.

The flight was totally full. I was fascinated by an elderly man in an adjacent row who looked just like the character from ‘The Vicar of Dibley’ who says: “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Yes.” He was persistently kicking a bag that the woman sitting in front of him had put under her seat. Each time she rearranged the bag, he kicked it away again. This was repeated about five times. Just before take off he got up and extracted a three-quarters empty litre bottle of Absolut Vodka from his overhead locker. He disappeared to the galley and came back with a plastic glass and proceeded to pout himself a drink. The steward came over and told him he could not consume his own alcohol on the plane and asked him to surrender the bottle. The man refused. At this point it became patently clear that the old fellow had consumed the rest of the bottle between the duty free shop and getting on the plane. Let’s just say he was a trifle tipsy. The steward in charge came over and there followed all kinds of high jinks – resulting in the plane missing its departure slot, the police being called and the time-consuming removal of the man and his luggage from the plane. If only he had waited a few more minutes before retrieving his bottle! Felt a bit sorry for him – seemed like a nice old chap. He was just partial to a drop of your finest.

I watched ‘Dodgeball’ (amusing), ‘Before Sunset’ (touching) and something about the day before yesterday but after tomorrow – which, warned the guide, “Contains scenes of aircraft in severe conditions”! Everybody else seemed to be fast asleep but, as usual, I didn’t get a wink.

Heathrow Airport – delays at passport control leading to knock-on delays at baggage reclaim. Delays on the Heathrow Express due to an earlier incident. Paddington Station – underground closed due to God only knows. Taxi queue a mile long and the wait even longer if your destination doesn’t line up with their ‘taxi-share’ arrangement. Welcome back to London! London is officially broken! It doesn’t work! After a month of services which just happen – I was back to this chaos and incompetence we call London.

Finally arrived home, a £30 taxi fare lighter, and Sammie did a triple backward somersault.