One Man's Terrorist...

We spent a very rainy Sunday doing very rainy
Sunday things. We did our laundry, ate some fish
and chips and found a swimming pool to shower.

Will tried to woo the lady behind the desk, telling
her an elaborate story of RVing woe. She didn't seem
to be empathising, so I chipped in, allbeit a bit brunt,
with 'we don't want to swim, we only want a shower.'
It did the trick, somehow, and our personal hygiene
was sorted for the next three days, at least.

Yesterday morning we headed back into Manhattan.
We took the train to Ground Zero, now a construction
site rather than a ruin; but still visually the same as
when I last saw it. Boarded up and impossible to glimpse
from ground level, it's hard to imagine what happened
there. We went into the World Financial Center to get a
better view and rest our weary legs.

Will said he expected to feel more emotion, and I must
admit I felt little in comparison to the sadness I felt last
time. Like I said, it's difficult to imagine what happened
there, especially when the site has become a tourist hotspot.

We headed for Battery Park and boarded the ferry for
Liberty Island; replacing thoughts of terrorism with those
of freedom. There's a saying in there somewhere...

The gloomy grey sky was replaced by marshmallow-fluff
clouds and a sky the colour of... Will's jumper. It made for
picture-perfect views of Libby and the Manhattan skyline.
I tried unsuccessfully to get a photo of a seagull mid-flight.
Looking back, I forget why. Shivering and wind-blown, we
caught the next ferry back to Battery Park and walked
down Wall Street to Brooklyn Bridge, before heading into
Chinatown for tea.

I had promised Will that the lower east side was an
experience like no other, and so we headed there as
the sun set with the hope of finding some dingy backstreet
bars, live bands and cheap drinks. In the end, we failed on
all three, but what we did find was, thankfully, a whole lot
better.

Stumbling upon a little bar called Lolitas, somewhere in
Noho I think, we were approached by a bloke who
informed us the show would be starting downstairs at 8pm.

Tonight, it turned out, was comedy night. This was
pretty much exactly what Will had been looking for;
a tiny basement venue, full of regulars and best of all,
completely free. We couldn't have found a better place
to spend our evening if we'd tried. It was my first
experience of a comedy night, and I liked it a whole
bunch.

Especially when I found out Kristen Schaal from
Flight of the Conchords was doing an act. I got all
excited, not least because I was wearing my Canada
geese jumper which I bought to 'be like Brett'.
Saddo, I know.

Anyway, she turned out to be not all that funny really,
but boy was I happy! After the show, we headed back
into the bar to continue our drinking, and Will insisted
I go ask her for a picture. I refused, so he went and
asked her for me. She came over and chatted a while,
and was very nice indeed; she even gave us directions
back to our tube stop.

Will and I got way too drunk and, after a disagreement
over how to get home (I say disagreement, in reality we
were one step away from a full on brawl), arrived back
to our RV at some stupid hour this morning.

Today, Tuesday, was streetcleaning on the road we
have been calling home. Time to move. I arose at 8am,
still drunk, and drove round the corner where we
managed to get a couple more hours sleep before being
moved on by a siren, informing us that we were still
parked on a Tuesday-streetcleaning road.

Nursing our hangovers, we decided to leave NYC,
despite Will not having yet being up the Empire
State Building. Another day in bustling New York
seemed too much like hard work. We craved a
quieter town, somewhere historic, sleepy, maybe
with a headless horseman to keep us on our toes.

We know the perfect place, so this afternoon we're
heading up the interstate to Sleepy Hollow.