Sunday, 5 May 2024

New York City

Here we are on a cool, rainy day in New York. Last night we put our luggage outside our stateroom door for pickup overnight. This morning we are up at 6am just as we are passing the Statue of Liberty, clearly visible from our veranda, since the QM2 is sailing backwards into its berth in Red Hook, Brooklyn. Although we are not scheduled to debark until 8:50, we have our last dining room breakfast at 6:30, return to our stateroom for last minute chores, say farewell to our room steward, Ting (from the Philippines), and head out to the Grand Lobby to wait for our number to be called--it's still only about 7:45.

Things are very chaotic as the hordes of passengers create long lines waiting to depart. Of course, folks are always trying to get into earlier groups, but the ship's crew make sure there are no cheaters (that is, until we ourselves, become cheaters--but by special permission). After leaving the ship, passengers must collect their luggage and go through customs and immigration. At 8:50 we are the first people on a line for departure, but there are two other lines ahead of us. The problem is that we have a prepaid car picking us up at 9:30; unless we start moving soon, we might have a problem.

To speed things up, I first ask a female office if we could skip to the front of the three lines since Will is still using a cane and walking very slowly. She says," no!". A few minutes later, a young male crew member comes by and I tell him about our waiting pre-paid car. He immediately lets us skip ahead and go down the gangway before anyone else. I guess money is a more convincing argument that being old and handicapped. At any rate, we are able to exit quickly and find our luggage waiting in the terminal. There is a long line waiting for porters, so I tell Will to take his carry-on and go through immigration and find the car that is waiting and tell the driver I am on my way with the luggage. Will, then, has his own difficulties at immigration because they want to know where I and the luggage are. But with help from another dock employee he manages to get through.

Although I have to wait about 15 minutes for a porter, good luck strikes again. The woman who takes our luggage is also helping an employee who is bringing two persons in wheelchairs. Without any reason, this employee tells me to come with him and the porter and skip all the lines to go through the handicap lane. Amazingly I am outside with my luggage in the shortest possible time. And our driver arrives very quickly.

There is very little Sunday 10am traffic as we drive through Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, north on FDR Drive, and exit at 34th Street (our hotel is on 44th Street). Then the traffic problems begin. No one told us that this morning is the five-borough bike race and most of the midtown streets are blocked to traffic. From 34th Street on the east side, our driver must go town to 23rd Street to drive to 8th Avenue on the west side. We drive up 8th Avenue, fighting a great deal of traffic, since many of the other avenues are closed. We reach 44th Street and make a right turn to travel the one very long block, plus a little bit more, to reach the hotel. So just when we think all things are good at last--when we reach Times Square, the rest of 44th Street is closed to traffic! Our hotel is a short walk from the Times Square corner where our driver deposits us, but it doesn't seem very short with two heavy suitcases, a bunch of smaller bags, Will with his cane--and it's raining and the sidewalks are slippery. It's a good thing we paid a flat fee for the ride; in a taxi the meter would just have kept on ticking.

We are in the Millenium Broadway Hotel, where I stayed during my brief trip to New York this past November. Of course, it is 11am and check-in time isn't until 4pm. But lucky again, a very kind check-in clerk is able to get us into a very nice room right away--without any extra charge as most hotel are doing nowadays.

Will Awaits His Lunch at Brooklyn Diner

We drop our stuff and head to the Brooklyn Diner, just around the corner, for wonderful pastrami sandwiches, Heinekens, and two chocolate and two raspberry rugelach (not quite like the ones my mother made, but delicious anyway). Our friendly young waiter is from Gaza and he recently flew to Cairo and paid the Egyptian government $14,000. to allow his 76-year-old mother to get out of Gaza. She is now safe in Cairo and he is back at work in New York.

This has been a very long narrative. I will stop here and pick up again in the next blog entry.