It was still raining as we sat in a cab for an hour, listening to the driver squawk Bin Laden conspiracy theories. He dropped us off in Greenwich village, and we sat in a friendly little cafe watching the weather clear up and waiting for Ed and Keira to finish work. And so started a brilliant long weekend in Manhattan, staying with E & K in their apartment. On that first evening, we toured a couple of speakeasy style bars in the East Village. Please Don't Tell is a cosy dark bar, with a ridiculously gimmicky device to get in. You wander into a grotty looking hotdog shop. You shut yourself into the payphone kiosk on one wall, pick up the receiver and press a number (any number). Suddenly, the wall beside you reveals itself to be a hidden door, and you are led into the bar. We also visited Death & Co, a lovely bar, where, when Ed didn't have ID on him, the bouncer asked him to "just show me something that looks like an ID". Odd.
On Friday Ed took us (with Lindsey who had just arrived in town) to watch the Mets play the Dodgers, and we drank beer and ate hotdogs in amazing seats. In the intervals, Mr Mets, a man with a giant baseball for a head, shot t-shirts out of a hand-held cannon. We didn't manage to get any. Into Saturday, and we found ourselves in Brooklyn, drinking all day in the Brooklyn brewery, hipster spotting (there was at least one wannabe at our table, but he was too fat). Ed had suggested from there that we went bowling. My heart sank a bit. As a general rule, I dislike bowling, because I'm rubbish at it. I was surprised - it was a lot of fun. George, typically, excelled at it, scoring easily the most points (to the quiet consternation of our fat wannabe hipster) and between strikes she attempted to teach me how to avoid gutter balls.
Suddenly, it was Sunday. The day that has been creeping up on us for the last 14 weeks. We got up. Packed our bags. Went for a walk through TriBeCa in the sunshine. Had lunch. Said goodbye to Ed and Keira. Got the subway to the "Airtrain". Had an argument with an Airtrain employee after the ticket machine stole $5 (that was just me). Bag drop. Security. Plane. Films. Heathrow. Boring old North West London.
All my photos of an incredible 14 weeks' travelling are neatly set out and categorised here.