Stat for today: Yesterday, I walked 10,534 steps. Overall, as of this moment, 7:24 p.m. on June 23, 2009, I have walked 981,803 steps in 88 days. Getting close to that million mark.
After the tour, we hopped on the subway. We had a problem on the subway. Make that two problems. No, make that two and a half problems.
Problem Number One: We had purchased all day subway passes. I put my pass in, but the turnstile stopped halfway through the lot. Now here’s the problem. You can only use your all day pass once every eighteen minutes. It makes sense, to limit the use to that time frame to avoid fare jumpers.
But I am claustrophobic. And I could see myself caged in this turnstile for 18 minutes. I was scared to death. I pushed my fat body out of the turnstile and was on the outside. Now I would have to wait 18 minutes before I could go through the turnstile again.
Problem one-half: I could not wait 18 minutes. I was at that moment having severe stomach cramps, and was silently farting up a storm with every step I took. I needed a bathroom immediately. I know that I would not be the first to pull down my pants in the Union Square Subway Station to take a dump, but I did not wish to join that throng.
Problem three: So I decided to spend the two bucks to get a new ticket. I reached into my pocket and my wallet was gone. Great, it’s lost, and I am going to have to cancel my credit cards, etc as soon as I get to the hotel, but I can’t get to the hotel because I don’t have any money for the subway, and pretty soon, I am going to either poop my pants or get arrested for public defecation and I won’t be able to prove who I am as I have lost my wallet and I am going to spend the night in the drunk tank near Union Square, and this is not how I planned the weekend.
A lady walked up to the turnstyle just then. She reached down and picked up a wallet. Who is this, she said. It’s mine, I shouted. She looked at me as if I were some stupid hick from Arkansas overwhelmed by the big city. Other than the Arkansas part, she was probably right.
She returned the wallet, but made us hold her flowers as she fished out her subway ticket. Fair deal, all in all. I bought my ticket, and we headed to 42 Street Station to find our hotel.
Usually when we go on a trip, we are very organized. We have everything printed out, sometimes twice, in a nice folder. Not this trip. We failed to print out our hotel room information and had failed to print out our plane tickets. I guess we were adopting the theme that we were going to be irresponsible on this trip.
So we called Marriott to find out where we were staying. They were not all that helpful. They told us it was a Courtyard on 40th Ave. After getting off the subway, we walked into the first Courtyard on 40th Avenue we came across. We asked if we had a reservation there. The guy behind the desk looked at us as if we were hicks from Idaho. He, too, was right, except for the Idaho part. His computer did not have us staying there. He recommended that we walk up a block and a half where there was another Courtyard. It was a long block and a half, especially with the silence gas passing going on between by legs.
We went into this one, and, joyfully this is the Marriott in which we were staying. But not before yet another person–the guy behind the desk–looked at us as if we were hicks from Indiana. All these looks were deserved.
The room was small–European small. Further, the hotel itself was funky, built in a building which had C shape. There were only about 7 rooms per floor, and it was not a tall building. It was not a great room, but it was ours.
We went into the room, and I was able to relieve myself. We showered, and I relieved myself again. We then took care of some fun stuff. We then decided if we did not get out the door soon, we would fall asleep until morning. We left for a walk around the Times Square area.
Note: The picture was taken on Coney Island.
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