Leg one: Tampa to New York City

9 May

Thursday, April 27th TPA to LGA:

Plane trip: 6 on a scale from 1 to 10 (10 being the worse). When I was little, I loved getting on a plane… I wanted to be a pilot for Christ sake! I would look forward to that plane ride as it was my last glass of water here on earth. As I have gotten older, for some stupid reason my mortally clock kicks in and now I’m filled with anxiety throughout a plan ride. No matter what I do, plane ride are NOT enjoyable any more. I have no idea if its because, the planes are still big, but more crowded, which means the seats are tiny and no matter how many pillows you ask for or how many ways you attempt to put your body in the damn plane seat, you will never get a comfortable position no.matter.what – and lets not get started on the “rudeness factor” of the airline industry. Remember when a 2 hour trip merited a meal? Ok, so it was a bad meal back then too, but it was something, I’m surprise that they still give you something to drink!

But back to the air…

The plane ride was a bit bumpy into NYC which ended brilliantly when our pilot confused our 737 aircraft to be an Indy 500 race car… and overshot the runway on the landing. He compensated nicely by putting the breaks at “aircraft” speed, which is NOT the same as putting the breaks on a Indy 500 race car… I can certainly say that all of the 200+ passengers took a shit and we proved it when the doors to the plane were opened and literally prompted the “lets-get-out-alive” attitude in all of us. I think the pilot was in the wrong line of work… if you ask me he should make a great “evacuation leader” of some sort, since I’m pretty sure that everyone was out of that plane in less than 5 min.

And I thought I was safe until the cab ride…

The cab ride had to have been the worst travel experience I had while in New York. (And I been to NYC numerous times) It was accurate to the movies and television shows that portray it. Now, I’m normally what you call a “close driver” anyway, which means that after driving on the interstates in Florida (which is a necessity to get anywhere with suitable food and entertainment) I have gotten to the point where the appropriate distance between my front bumper and the back bumper of the car in front of me is approximately the size of a cantaloupe. This leaves me just enough room to maneuver if the fool in front of me should slow down or, God forbid, try to stop. I often scare the shit out of people (figuratively speaking) when I drive because when brake lights flare I often don’t slow down, yet when I saw the way that people drive on New York streets I myself had trepidations about getting into a car and attempting to pull into traffic.

The cab ride went along the lines of this:

– The driver honks and pulls into traffic in front of three other cars.
– I grip the handle with a viselike death grip and clench my teeth
– Driver runs two yellow lights and almost sideswipes a van.
– I am sweating copiously and my teeth are grinding.
– Driver honks one time in warning and pulls off the road to access the bridge ramp, missing another car by a frog hair.
-I shit myself (figuratively…of course).

I survived it…. so there is a day two….


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