Making New York Great Again

So anyway… Washington Square Park.  We concluded by approaching a guy with an “Ask me anything” sign. This seemed like a good idea at the time, but I just ended up telling him about our secret mission to dump the remains of my mother in law around the planet. We pretty much established that he’d never heard of Giuseppe Garibaldi or indeed the infamous biscuits. He also knew nothing about the hand of god incident at the 1986 World Cup. What a loser this guy was. And as if that fact needed confirmation, confirmation arrived with the revelation that he was in fact a student of Computer Science and Art. As if my chat to date had not been patronising enough, I went on to ask him what he wanted to be when he grew up. He said “Porn star”…. But you know I’m lying. He actually said “Web Designer”. I punched him.  We wandered off in search of a statue of Marco de Oreo, or perhaps Gerry Ginger Nut. The rest of the day was lost to the exciting things you might expect a 50 something bloke ...

Call a doctor I think I’m ill. You see, I’m not sure I’m a real tourist anymore. We’ve been here four nights already and we haven’t been to Times Square, Grand Central or climbed any tall buildings. Ok there was the Statue of Liberty but is that a building? Maybe I’m a hypochondriac. After all yesterday afternoon we did go to Macy’s, aimlessly wandered around, considered buying some genuine 100% shite with MACY'S stamped on it, and then came to our senses. I’m not sure I even like Macy’s anymore. Gone are most of the wooden escalators. The food court is gone. Santa   is gone. The bargain handbag section is gone.   I did note they do have quite the selection of men’s underwear.   Trunks for average gentleman. Briefs for gentleman of a certain age, Jock straps for strapping jocks. Only Americans need apply. And.. and… Y backed thongs. Now this is not to be confused with Y fronts. Your front Y is to facilitate unfettered access to a gentleman’s frontage in times of need. Thi...

Having practically run up the Statue of Liberty I paused briefly to sign autographs and then we headed back on the boat to Manhattan. In a masterpiece of planning I’d secured us tickets for The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. It’s kind of sad I know, but it’s also entertainment in my price bracket. My price bracket ideally is somewhere between zero and fuck all. This had cost me nothing but some careful planning to get my ticket request in. Last year I’d seen Matt Damon. This year, the rather less famous but very funny British comedian John Oliver was the guest. John is a Cambridge Footlights alumni, like everyone from Bill Oddie to Richard Osman. However, he never really made it big in the UK save some panel show  appearances. But now, officially an American citizen,   he takes great delight in taking the piss out of his new found countryman. Particularly the ones with orange faces and pornstars in their closet.   Anyway, this year Mrs Steve also volunteered to attend. A...

With Jimmy’s haunting Black Country Brooklyn   accent ringing in our ears we headed back to the hotel. Parts of my attire needed half an hour or so in front of a warm hair dryer before we attacked the afternoon. A little rain will not defeat us! There’s no such thing as bad weather, it’s just bad clothing choices that cause the problems. I went out dressed for battle. Attired head to toe in Goretex I would not be defeated.   We were going to do what real men do when the going gets tough. We were going shopping! But no ordinary shopping. We were heading to New Jersey where sales tax is lower and AirPod 4’s have $30 off in Best Buy Hoboken. One problem, all trains to Hoboken are cancelled. We board the rail replacement bus service and continue our journey. Our bus has 3 stops Exchange Place, The Mall and Hoboken. Best Buy is located between the mall and Hoboken. It’s not ideal but somehow a perfect storm, literally the heavens have opened again as we arrive in Hoboken by bus. Le...

I awoke in our hotel room on the 32nd floor of the worst Hilton money can buy. Don’t worry dearest, it’s next door to the hotel you actually wanted to stay at but this is considerably cheaper. What’s not to like. It’s 4am and the rain is lashing the windows. I’d lie and say it was probably going to be a lovely day, but the forecast was for 100% rain. Our day was going to be terrible.   We started out by swimming to the diner which is on the same block as the hotel. I’d brought with me waterproof walking boots and a RAB jacket rated to 28000mm of hydrostatic head. For you normal people that means it’s about as waterproof as a bin liner, yet the 3 layers of Goretex hand shorn from Tibetan Goretex Goats in the Himalayan mountains means RAB can charge you hundreds of pounds for what essentially is just a pretty bin liner. And it matters not because THAT coat is still in the case. Obviously, I’ve left it there with my waterproof walking boots because…. Because heaven forbid I don’t want...