Welcome to New York

A warning to all those who might ever consider traveling with me - don't. Just don't. However, if you want to laugh your ass off instead of get to your destination in under 2 hours it may be a risk you want to take.

Friday, 2/25/11.
Boston, 10 am.
Against our better judgment, in order to save $10, Cherie and I opted to take the Fung Wah into Chinatown. All jokes aside, it honestly was not as bad as I was expecting; albeit the faint smell of urine lingering in the air, the woman munching on fried chicken next to me, the man of Eastern European decent devouring an entire package of raw hot dogs, and the Asian woman behind me who managed to carry on a conversation the entire 4 hour ride.

New York or bust. (I didn't take this picture, I wish I did. Alas, I only brought my phone)

Chinatown, New York, 2 pm
Destination Brooklyn: For those of you who are unfamiliar with NYC (like myself) it should not, under any circumstances, take 3 hours to get from Chinatown in Manhattan to Greenpoint in Brooklyn, but it did. It didn't help that the second we got off the bus we were pelted with raindrops the size of my face as rivers of discarded bottles and food wrappers rushed down the sidewalks. At first we stood in awe wondering whether it was better to just stand there and hope it stopped raining or to keep on walking despite the fact that we were practically taking a shower in public. We opted for walking. Glad that $5 dollar umbrella I bought at Walgreens did nothing to help me thanks to the vicious winds.

Brooklyn, New York, 5 pm
Finally, we made it! Thanks to Cherie's friend Stephen for putting us up (or putting up with us) the whole weekend. You're awesome!

Exhausted, we made ourselves at home immediately and settled in to watching Pretty in Pink. A few hours later we managed to pull ourselves together enough to meet up with Brittany at The Trash Bar in Williamsburg ($10 cover for an hour of open bar? count me in!). The Trash Bar was full of interesting characters (probably because it's a metal bar). To the man with that hideous feather in your hair, you look ridiculous. I don't care how "alternative" you think you are, it looks like you bought it at Claire's. The rest of said characters were cool.
Back to Greenpoint we go trying to find Brooklyn Rod and Gun Club. Acting on some vague directions we eventually found it; a cozy, smoky, little folky (hah!) place with an oversized picnic table in the middle of the room where this girl was playing. 

Amazing.

Saturday, 2/26/11

A pretty low-key day in comparison to Friday. After meeting up with a long-lost friend for lunch and dropping my leftover pancakes off on Stephen's stoop, Cherie and I headed for Chelsea in search of some galleries. Instead we found FIT. Not bad, it's always interesting to see fashion trends from the past 100 years on display. Unfortunately, FIT is in the opposite direction of the Art Gallery District. We finally found the art galleries about an hour before they closed. We happened upon a reception for a Harriet Tubman themed show which was amazing.
After the galleries closed we met up with Brittany in the Lower East Side for some kick-ass mac and cheese at a restaurant called S'mac. Holy shit. The place was a jungle. If I could compare it to anything it would be this picture.

Vultures. The lot of us. Hovering over people trying to enjoy their meal like we hadn't eaten for days. Thank you to the lovely alternative couple who said "The Hell with this place, let's take the rest of this home" and gave us their table. The delicious mac and cheese was almost worth the swarms of buzzards.

Sunday, 2/27/11
A day of travel. And waiting... and waiting... and waiting.

10:30 am
Leaving Stephen's apartment. Pat on the back for not getting lost on our way back to Chinatown.

Ahahah...That's the best picture we could come up with?

The ride back to Boston was less than eventful. I slept. I fell asleep somewhere in CT and woke up somewhere in MA. I went from thinking it was 60 degrees and sunny and suddenly it looks like Narnia outside. What? Take me back to Brooklyn, please.

8pm and we're back in Lebanon. Dude, where's my car? No, I'm not just making reference to a horrible movie. Where is my car?
Oh. I have to call if I come back early, you say? Well thanks for telling me. Now I feel like a huge ass.

9pm. Where is my car? Oh. It's buried in 2 feet of snow and stuck behind a car that won't start? Ok. Now I feel like an even bigger ass.

10pm. Wow, you hate me. Thanks for getting my car and here's a measly tip for all your efforts. I promise to never do this again.

Most people just have a rabbit's foot for good luck. I need an entire rabbit...or maybe a jackalope.

11pm. Home. I'm going to bed.

Ain't no preacher man save my soul.