Travel 2005

John Coltrane A Love Supreme.
Brooklyn, New York - November 2005

I usually don't go in for these sorts of things, but I read on Kottke's site (new window) about people listing all the places they went in 2005, and I started thinking about mine. I spent quite a lot of time on the road last year. I'm sure there are rules beyond what I'm about to do. What would the internet be without senseless rules, but anyway.

Here's a list of places I spent at least one night in in 2005, more or less in chronological order (all places, unless otherwise noted, in the US of A), overnight flights not included:

• Death Valley National Park, California


• Las Vegas, California


• San Francisco, California


• St. Louis, Missouri


• Memphis, Tennessee


• Mobile, Alabama


• New Orleans, Louisiana


• Galveston, Texas


• Yosemite National Park, California


• New York (Manhattan), New York


• Fallon, Nevada


• Baker, Nevada


• Bicknell, Utah


• Moab, Utah


• Denver, Colorado


• Lincoln, Nebraska


• Chicago, Illinois


• Clarion, Pennsylvania


• Farmingdale, New York


• Beaune, France


• Bordeaux, France


• Tours, France


• Amboise, France


• Paris, France


• Southold, New York


• Brooklyn, New York

Could have been more. Stupid FedEx!!

Breakfast

The clean crisp taste of gin.
Brooklyn, New York - December 2005

When I decided to move back to New York, it wasn't because of the ease of living. No "Escape Your Whole Latitude" or "Come and Say G'day"-style ads are on billboards in far flung cities enticing people to come to New York. That's not the point of New York. Come here if you dare. You knew what you were getting into. Don't say I didn't warn you.

That said, one of the things me and the then-not-yet missus looked forward to when we were revving up to get out of San Francisco and head back here was, as "you can't be serious" as it might sound, egg sandwiches. In San Francsico, for whatever reason, it was bordering on impossible to get a simple egg sandwich, two eggs on some kind of bread, without enduring countless blank stares that seemed to be asking "How do you want me to get the eggs to not roll off of the bread?" When we did find one, it was always pushing the upper limits on allowable cost before needing to ask "Does that come with a free TV?"

In that way, New York is Brigadoon. On almost any corner, on any street or avenue, for under two dollars and ten words, including coffee, you're walking down Seventh Avenue nodding to the jealous stares of passers by thinking "Now, that's a guy who knows how to eat breakfast."

The ease of that broke down this morning. Sure, it was still two bucks, but the usual series of events leading up to me walking into the deli without an egg sandwich, and walking out with one broke down.

I got in line, and that was the end of the easy part.

The cook asked, "Who's next?" No one responded. "Who's next?"

Ok, fine, I figured. Must be my turn, I'll order "Two scrambled eggs on a roll."

"Umm... I was next." The until-then-mute woman ahead of me said. Fine, sigh, she orders.

"Who's next?" I order again, and wait.

And Wait.

And Wait.

Got tired of waiting, and asked, "Where's my sandwich?"

Straight in the eyes, "You never ordered." Fine, I order a third time, and seconds later, I'm handed a sandwich, and I bring it up to the counter, where the cashier looks at the magic marker scrawl on the foil wrapper and tells me that it'll be $6.75.

"It says here it's $1.99 with coffee."

"Yes. That's for two eggs on a roll."

"Right. That's what I ordered."

"No, this is four eggs, bacon, salami, hash browns, tomato and cheese on a bagel."

Hm. Sure, that's still a bargain, and I'm tempted, especially with the hash browns, but I say "Do i look like i'm trying to kill myself this morning?"

"Well, you did get tomato. that's a vegetable," she says, with the emotion of a slide rule.

"Actually it's a fruit." I tell her. Don't mess with me.

"Do you want the sandwich or not?"

I say "No" and order a fourth time, finally getting the sandwich I wanted. I pay my $2.16, and head over to the unpatrolled self-service coffee zone, where I briefly consider getting a 12 or 14 ounce cup rather than the prescribed 10 ouncer, but decided to play it safe because I figure I can use all the karma I can get these days, and I know Carson Daly is watching. Of course, they're out of regular coffee.

So, I told the cashier, who suggested "how about decaf?"

"Hm. That's not really the same." She shrugged, so I got all there was with caffeine, the hazelnut, the Urkel of coffee. A good idea at first, but by the time you're halfway through, you can't wait for "Perfect Strangers" to come on.

Outisde, it was still January. I was worn out. I was late for work. But my breakfast was going to be better than everyone else's, and they all knew it.