Sunday 21st / Monday 22nd – The Final Chapter

So it's all over.
I spent 13 weeks in America, the longest time I’ve ever spent away from home in one go. I met many new faces, and made many new friends. I did things that I would never have done at home, and things that I’m happy to enjoy both in and out of the country. I spent pretty much all of the money I earned whilst I was here, and don’t have that many souvenirs to show for it. But I do have a head full of memories, 566 photos of my experiences, and a 20,805 word blog that documents it all.
On Saturday, I packed away all my stuff and crammed it into two bags (and I taped my guitar into a box!). I had to leave one or two things behind in America, as they purely wouldn’t fit, but I got pretty much everything in that I wanted. So I spent most of the rest of Saturday bumming around and passing time by watching TV and playing guitar. Since I’ve been here, I haven’t played guitar even nearly as much as I used to back at home – mainly due to the fact that the axe I bought out here isn’t that nice to play. It was definitely nice to come home to a guitar that would do what I wanted it to do without me having to think too hard!
Saturday night we all chilled out in Jed’s room, staying up until 2am just chatting, watching a movie and having some buds. On Saturday morning when I woke up at 11 for lunch, it still hadn’t hit me that I was leaving for good. I said goodbye to everyone who was going to be working that day, grabbed a can of South-side mix, and headed back to the dorms to finish packing and start waiting for Tim to turn up. Tim is a taxi driver who, for the past 3 months has been giving us all lifts about in his taxi off the record. We’d get a discount, and he’d get to pocket the whole fare (instead of the 50% the company would give him if we rode with him legitimately).
When Tim turned up at the dorms at 3pm, he was picking me up on his day off – that’s how much he valued our cash!!
Saying goodbye to the five or six friends that were left at the dorms was pretty hard, though I’m glad that I didn’t leave earlier in the Summer when there were more people to say goodbye to – that would have been very difficult. Strangely though, even as I sat in the taxi on the way to JFK airport, my leaving still hadn’t sunk in. In fact, even as I sat in Terminal 4 waiting to be called up for boarding (I got here waaaayyy too early!) I still didn’t feel like I was never going to be coming back.


The flight back home was a fairly uneventful one, but it wasn’t as smooth as I’d been hoping for either. Theresa had told me that her son (a cop at the airport) was going to find me and upgrade me to a better seat home. I wasn’t entirely convinced that that was definitely going to happen, so I wasn’t surprised when I ended up in coach class like had been planned. I was a little surprised though when instead of a fellow bunac-er sitting next to me, a very large jewish gentleman came and parked his 20 stone body in the next seat along. He nicely sprawled over the armrests too, ensuring that there was no way I was going to be able to lean on that side for the following seven hours. More drama was had when it turned out he hadn’t informed anyone in advance that he was going to want a kosher meal to eat, and a poor stewardess had to rumble him up a fruit platter instead. But his piece-de-resistance came when just as I’d nearly dropped off into a well earned sleep, his gut rumbled and his spare gas came pouring out, filling the air that we were both sharing, and waking me instantly.
We departed John F. Kennedy airport as the sun was setting, and reached England’s grey and pleasant lands as it was rising this morning. Getting off the plane, getting through customs, going through baggage collection and finally leaving the terminal wasn’t complicated at all. Things only became difficult when my English debit card refused to work in the underground ticket machines. I exchange the $7 I had in my pockets for a measly £3at the travel exchange place, and paired that up with the little left-over cash I had from June so that I could buy a tube ticket to get me to Euston.


I spent an hour waiting for my train in Euston, which was the perfect amount of time for me to sit in a pub, eating a fry-up and drinking PG Tips (after I cleaned the residue off the chip on my card – probably a result of going swimming with my wallet in my pocket during the summer, and the reason why it hadn’t been working). I then boarded the train that was north-bound, plonking my 2nd class ass in a nice comfy 1st class seat, refused the complimentary tea I was offered (I was all tea’d out by then) and relaxed for the rest of my journey home.As the train crawled further and further North, the weather got greyer, wetter, and just generally more and more miserable. I remembered what the attraction of America had been in the first place. In my time on Long Island, it probably rained on about 15 occasions. I’d been back in the UK for 5 hours, and already everything outside was getting wet. Even though I came back the same colour as when I left, it was so nice being able to walk round everywhere in very few layers, lapping up the warm air and the sun whenever the need took me.

As I finish this final blog entry off, I’m sitting in my room in Macclesfield, waiting for my mum to finish cooking a curry so that I can eat it before passing out with exhaustion in my bed. I haven’t slept at all for over 26 hours now and everything feels like one big dream to me. I’m sure it’ll hit me later, maybe when I wake up to the sound of my family instead of the sound of Artur’s alarm clock. Tomorrow I’m meeting up with Del for lunch in Macclesfield, and later on in the week, who knows who I’ll see first!

I want to finish by thanking every single person who’s been there to work illegally long shifts with me, waiting on some of the most fussy and ridiculous rich people ever to walk the planet; every single person who also will never be cured of complete detestation of fried chicken; every person who got drunk with me and made me laugh; every strange or annoying employee that created a topic of conversation for the rest of us; and every person who was there to help me spend every last penny that I earned at Piping Rock.

I wouldn’t have missed any of it for the world

Friday 19th – My Last Shift

I’m going to make this blog entry a short one, as I’m going to wait ‘til I get home before closing this chapter in my life properly.
Last night was PRC’s Rock ‘n’ Roll night, and my final shift. Usually, employees get covered in water, cake, or something worse on their last night, but I got lucky as Cam and Dave had been given the night off. So instead I spent my last shift smuggling drinks out to the back, working quite lightly, and just generally enjoying the band that was playing (despite their shoddy singer). It was a nice way to finish what has been a working summer of ups and downs. On Sunday I’m going to have to say goodbye to all of the people that are still here now, and also have to say bye to Cathy (the old Scottish lady who’s worked here for 40 years, and who I used to work with/for every weekend in the morning). That’s going to be hard, but for the moment I’m just trying to relax and enjoy what little time I have left here by doing sod all.

Thursday 18th – Bloc Party 2

Before leaving for work today, I had 10 minutes spare so decided to check my facebook and email. Not much had happened on facebook, a few people had updated their statuses, a couple of wall posts and photo comments had been written, but generally the world was being quite quiet. So I checked my emails. I had one from Hotmail, one from my Dad, and one from RSVP. I nearly deleted it, assuming it was spam, but ended up opening it anyway to have a look. And I’m so glad I did. The email read as follows:

Hello!

You are on the list for the Bloc Party gig tonight with a +1 (so you can bring a friend).You will need to go to the VIP entrance / line to get your tickets and your VIP area access.

Have a great time

This made my day. I no longer had to fear about not being able to get into the gig, and definitely didn’t have to worry about not being able to see. The day was too long for me. All I could think about at work was going to the gig. After seeing them last month at Webster Hall, I was very very excited.
We planned to get the 4.30 train into NYC, so that we’d get there an hour before doors opened. This was because whilst Cam and I were on the VIP list, Dave was not, and was going to have to queue like everyone else. For the first time since I got to America though, the trains were delayed (due to a fatality apparently) and we got into New York at about half 6. By this time, the line to get in was longer than that for anything else going on in the city. It wrapped right round the building and headed up Broadway. So instead of making Dave queue, we simply glanced at the VIP list and pretended he was someone else. It turned out that not only was I on the list, but I was actually eligible for the extra-VIP treatment. Most people on the list got in before everyone else but except for that, they were normal folk. Me and Cam got access to a special side-stage (and later on, we got to skip the queue into the aftershow party too!).


So we picked up our wristbands, had a few drinks in a nearby bar, and headed into the gig. The support band Amazing Baby were an odd mish-mash of musicians. Most notable was their heavy-metal lead guitarist head-banging at one end of the stage by himself. So whilst they played, we drank. Stupidly, I got really drunk at this gig (as this is the first time I’ve been at a big gig and been able to stand by the stage and the bar at the same time.
But when Bloc Party came on, it was unbelievable. The set was roughly one third new stuff from Intimacy, and strangely they opened with their newest single, Talons (which isn’t even on the album!). By the time the band had closed with Flux and Helicopter, I was covered in sweat and was ready to just go home and collapse.
But on the way out of the show, I was handed a flyer for the band’s aftershow.



Normally speaking I may not have bothered, as it was blatently going to be a VERY expensive night out. However, the flyer said “MOBY DJ SET” on it, and I instantly knew that we had to go. After an argument with a taxi driver who’d tried to charge us $30 for a $10 ride, we got some money out (pretty much all that was left from my earnings this summer) and showed our blue wristbands to the bouncer who let us straight in. Sadly we weren’t there long enough to see Moby DJ, as we had to get the last train home to Locust Valley at 1am – but all in all, the night was pretty damn good.


Bloc Party – Roseland Ballroom – 09/18/08

Talons
Trojan Horse
Hunting For Witches
Positive Tension
Signs
Song For Clay (Disappear Here)
Banquet Better Than Heaven
The Once And Future King
This Modern Love
The Prayer
Like Eating Glass
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Ares
Price Of Gasoline
Flux
Helicopter

Tuesday 16th – One Last Look at Manhattan

Ok, so on writing this I now know that this probably wasn’t going to have been my last trip into Manhattan, but I’ll come to that in a bit.
So for once (possibly the first time since I’ve been here!), we got a morning train into Manhattan, arriving just before midday. We’d already decided on seeing Brooklyn Bridge, so we got the subway south to as near as we could get to the bridge, before getting off and walking through a typical Manhattan-Chinatown-downtown suburb type bit to get to the river that separates Manhattan and Brooklyn. It turned out that we’d actually ended up at Williamsburg Bridge, so we walked down the peninsular towards Manhattan Bridge and Brookyln Bridge. It wasn’t a particularly momentus occasion seeing the bridge, but it was quite cool none-the-less. I would have walked across it, except that I was knakered from walking by this point and had to fit in a couple of extra stops during the day.

Anahaita and Dave went off to go shopping so that I could see the next item on my list, Grand Central Station. Like the bridge, I couldn’t explain why I wanted to see it, except that it was one of these places that I’d seen in movies and wanted to experience first hand. It was quite a cool experience too, as I got off the subway I walked down a corridor, that whilst it’s decorated in the same fashion as the Grand Central that I’d seen on TV plenty of times, it was very small and claustrophobic – not at all what I’d expected.
Then, as I rounded a corner wandering if I was ever going to find the place I was looking for, the space I was in opened right out and turned into the familiar sight of Grand Central. That place is perfectly symmetrical, the two photos below are of opposite ends of the terminal.

After the station, I set off in hope of finding the final few presents I wanted to buy for people back home. Sadly though, despite having been smothered by tourist shops every time I’d been into NYC previous to this occasion, it took me the best part of 45 minutes to find one this time to buy my last bits of tat to give to my mates.
The rest of the day involved yet more subway trips (I covered the length of manhattan four times that day!), a meal at Ruby Tuesdays and then one final movie. I was pretty happy at the end of the day that I’d had a pretty good last day out in NYC, and was happy that I’d done pretty much everything I wanted to in the city.

That was until today, when I found out that Bloc Party are going to be playing a free gig on Thursday. It’s on a first come first served basis, and I intend to be both of these. That would be awesome.

Saturday 13th – Goodbye Del

Weirdly, when I first met Del, we didn’t get along in the same way I got along with Maria. About a few weeks into her arrival though, something clicked, and all of a sudden she was the most random ditsy funny person I’d ever met (sorry Tom, you’re not even close mate!).
Since then, we’ve had random encounters on the beach, adventures in the city, perfectly timed signature hand shakes, plenty of ice cream, misinterpretations of each others speech and uncountable mentions of each others names (both in the traditional Del?!! style, and the mew and improved Wall-E style: Del-l?).
So this morning, when she decided to leave at 5am to get to the airport (I better be given an evening flight, this time of flight was not appropriate), I was sad to see her go. I woke up at 4.40 and gave her a hand packing, before watching with some amusement as she woke half of Piping Rock up to say goodbye (guys, you all looked stunning at 5am!). I didn’t go back to sleep after she left, deciding on balance to stay up, chat to some Brits on msn, and go into work half an hour early at half 7. I would have felt mad tired when I woke up anyway, and was awake by this point.
The plan is to meet up in Manchester a day or two after I get back, as she’s at Uni there and I don’t go back to bath ‘til the 25th. It’s going to be a strange experience, but that’s what this summer’s been full of…
Safe safe.

Monday 8th – Goodbye Maria / Skydiving Part 2

This morning everyone awoke in one of two states. The lucky ones among us woke up still drunk from the night before. The unlucky ones woke up sober and hungover. We’d done our best to make Maria’s final night at PRC as enjoyable as possible, and as with everything we do at Piping Rock, this involved copious amounts of alcohol. We stayed up late playing child’s games, drinking, and telling Maria we’d miss her until we eventually all ran out of steam and fell asleep.
I woke up in the morning on the couch in the lounge, so hazily dragged myself downstairs to sober up before leaving for my second jump of the summer. I packed all my stuff and checked that I had everything ready to go before I had to go and do something very difficult.


I got along with Maria the second I met her, and have known that saying goodbye was going to be hard from the start. So having to say goodbye to the wee Scottish girl that I’d adopted as my sister (well, one of two – but Del’s still here at the moment) was one of the worst things I’ve done since I’ve been here.
The first proper blog entry I wrote for this trip included a bit about how I felt I hadn’t said a proper goodbye to my family and friends before leaving. So I tried to make sure that this goodbye was done properly in the hope that it would make me feel in a better mood than I did sat on platform 2 in Macclesfield back in June (almost 3 months ago now). As I climbed into my taxi to take me to the train station, I didn’t feel the same feelings as I’d done in Macc, instead I just felt really sad. Sad to see one of my best friends go, not knowing when we’d meet again.

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Last time we skydived, the Americans were all still here, and so we drove to Calverton to experience free-falling at 120mph. This time though, it was only me and John jumping, and I was meeting John out there. So I had to get a taxi to Syosset and then the train to Port Jefferson to get there. This took well over an hour and by the time I arrive in Port Jeff, my hangover was beginning to subside (helped by a brew and a donut from Dunkin Donuts!). However, when John turned up, it appeared that I was not the one with the hangover. He’d been out to a famous (on Long Island) place the night before called the Boardy Barn – a tent filled with $2 beers that opens 4 hours a week during the summer. It didn’t take long for him to decide that it was only going to be me jumping today.
The previous jump was a bit of a blur to be honest. The first time you do something as intense as free-falling through the sky at terminal velocity, you’re so pumped on adrenaline that you don’t really take in everything that happens. So it made sense for me to do a second jump. It also made sense to get a video of the whole event this time so that the feelings I felt would be cemented in my head for the rest of my life.

This time, I only waited half an hour before being called up to be strapped into my harness. This time I ditched my glasses, deciding that they only made the journey more uncomfortable last time without really adding much. Most of the thrill of the jump is feeling like you’re flying, not being able to see the ground rise up towards you. My jump buddy soon cottoned onto the fact that I wasn’t back to experience the same thing as last time, and was hoping for something a bit more this time. So instead of sitting in the doorway and dropping out the plane, we dived this time.
The journey up to 13,500ft was pretty much the same as last time, only interspersed by the odd comment by my cameraman. But the jump itself was completely different.
When it was our turn to go, we stood up and walked towards the door. Facing backwards, we then dived out of the door, backflipping down towards the earth. As we flipped, I could see the plane move away from me faster than you can imagine. As we turned over to become belly down, my jump partner told me to move my hands out, and the cameraman flew over. We spun around, cracked knuckles and whooped and screamed with excitement. And this time I was calm enough to realise what was happening, which made the whole journey even more enjoyable. When the cord was finally pulled and we had slowed down to a snail’s pace, I was handed the straps to the ‘chute and I was allowed to steer us. If you pull one strap down far enough (from right above your head to down below your waist), you immediately dive downwards in a spiral. He let me change things about and soar through the air as we headed towards the runway which we’d left only 10 minutes ago.

Once on the ground, I was left shaking with excitement. This jump had been a hundred times better than the first one. I think I might have found a new addiction…

Sunday 7th – The Breakdown of Team GB

About a week into being here in the US, it was apparent that as well as everyone got along, for some unknown reason the Brits were going to be constantly closer together. For this reason, Maria, Del and I named ourselves Team GB. When I mention Team GB now, it also includes Cam (I know he’s American, ignore that!), Anahita, Dave, Kirsty, Gill, Natasha and Kate.
In two weeks, I fly home.
The day before that, Anahita leaves.
In a weeks time, Del leaves.
And tomorrow, Maria goes.
We’ve talked about meeting up over Christmas, and obviously everyone’s going to keep in touch over facebook and msn; but after being in such close contact with such a good group of friends for three months, it’s going to be weird to see these people leave. It was sad saying goodbye to all of the American folk who left a few weeks ago, but this is going to be harder. These were the people that would discuss with me the weirdness of the snack jars, saying things wrong and cheese flavoured popcorn. We convinced the Americans that we call beers smooths, that we refer to napping as ‘going for a dream’, and that the beach is called ‘water on the rocks’. We’d get lost in New York together and complain about work together. These were the people that went through times square with me, went up the empire state building and left me on a subway train overnight.
This is a sad blog entry.