What a rough flight! Rachael and I both arrive at Laguardia and meet up to take a taxi into town. Knowing the Big Apple Hostel was going to be near Time Square, we did not expect the grand arrival going right through it and arriving at the place only a block away. We were both glued to our windows, watching the towering buildings of Manhattan and taking in the strange stench of the air (a mix of street food, and garbage... considering we were coming in the evening before trash pick up the streets were filled with garbage bags.Rachael ended up bunked with a group of three asian girls who spoke no English. She was not happy. I never got to see my roommates until late at night and early in the morning.
We immediately went out to scout a place to eat as we were starving and lo and behold was a wonderful little deli next door called the Cranberry Cafe. We pretty much downed some Italian pflatbread sandwiches and decided to go explore our surroundings.
On the corner of 7th and 45th was, day in and day out, the same person dressed as Elmo for photographs. I became very fond of him / her considering we passed him constantly. It was night and I walked to the Rockefeller Center and Radio City Hall, passing the smells of curry being cooked on street carts. Rachael was
quite distressed with her overzealous roommates so we decided we needed to find a cheap drinking hole so that we may pass out easily the first night. We stumbled upon the Blarney Stone west of Time 
Square, a relatively empty bar that had great music playing. The bartender was Irish and he poured stiff drinks. We spent the majority of the time entertained by the bum across the street everyone referred to as "Bobby". He was blatantly shooting up heroine as people walked by sometimes doing a triple-take. Stay classy NYC, stay classy.
We immediately went out to scout a place to eat as we were starving and lo and behold was a wonderful little deli next door called the Cranberry Cafe. We pretty much downed some Italian pflatbread sandwiches and decided to go explore our surroundings.
On the corner of 7th and 45th was, day in and day out, the same person dressed as Elmo for photographs. I became very fond of him / her considering we passed him constantly. It was night and I walked to the Rockefeller Center and Radio City Hall, passing the smells of curry being cooked on street carts. Rachael was
quite distressed with her overzealous roommates so we decided we needed to find a cheap drinking hole so that we may pass out easily the first night. We stumbled upon the Blarney Stone west of Time 
Square, a relatively empty bar that had great music playing. The bartender was Irish and he poured stiff drinks. We spent the majority of the time entertained by the bum across the street everyone referred to as "Bobby". He was blatantly shooting up heroine as people walked by sometimes doing a triple-take. Stay classy NYC, stay classy.On the way back we We stopped at this little place called the Rum House where a lounge singer who claimed to have been there over a 16 years sang us some Nat King Cole songs. Between songs she asked Rachael and I if we were singers, considering I was wording the songs along with her (I grew up listening to Nat King Cole). Like a deer in the headlight, Rachael said, "We're EX-singers" and left soon afterwards.
We spent the rest of the evening at the hostel hanging out with a group of Australian tourists drinking Newcastle and talking about the city. They were going on a somewhat tour through America, next stop Las Vegas. A young French guy sat with us briefly. Talk about an international experience. It was a good night to start off our vacation.
We spent the rest of the evening at the hostel hanging out with a group of Australian tourists drinking Newcastle and talking about the city. They were going on a somewhat tour through America, next stop Las Vegas. A young French guy sat with us briefly. Talk about an international experience. It was a good night to start off our vacation.
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