Jet Lag
Jet lag’s wierd.
We got to our hotel room, straight from the airport, and my first instinct is to go exploring.
There’s a menu in our room for a sushi place and I see it’s right around the corner, so while family gets unpacked I set out to find the place, which is only on the next block.
I had been awake for about twenty hours, eleven of which were spent travelling, but a few precarious street crossings found me in the doorway of a sushi place, my judgement was impaired by tiredness and a vast selection of handrolls.
I think it was a fancy place. I think I was underdressed. I think I was standing in the middle of all the tables. A man who I think was the manager asked if he could help me.
I asked if they did takeout. He gave me a cold smile and a menu, which I stared at in turn, blankly, while facts and evidence lingered unresolved like a sustained chord in the air of someone else’s six o’clock.
I thought of how to say politely: “Will this take long?” I wondered which food to order and how to ask for it. Should I grab a waiter? Should I ask the guy who gave me the menu? Should I order from the cashier? Was I still standing in the middle of the restaurant?
I smiled and waved the menu at the manager, pointing at the door to imply that I was going to take the menu and, you know, just - go.
I walked around the corner and got some bagels with cream cheese and a couple of Snapples to wash down my lies.
Iced tea and doughy foodstuffs - the last refuge of the weary traveller.
Tomorrow: Fucking Lucy
April 18th, 2007 at 8:42 am
Bloody tourists…
April 18th, 2007 at 9:47 am
You should have phoned them. That’s what I love about New York: the way you can get anything delivered, anything at all, to anywhere, at any time of the day or night. Really want a packet of chewing gum at 4am but can’t be bothered to get up and go out for it? Phone the local deli…
April 18th, 2007 at 9:48 am
Of course, I am notoriously lazy.
April 18th, 2007 at 12:36 pm
I did call them later on. I think it was just an excuse to walk around after being stuck in a plane for so long.
(and the likelihood of something blogworthy happening on my travels. I’m too good for this place. Oh - it is my place.)
April 18th, 2007 at 12:40 pm
I always get depressed when I find myself going out of the way to do something interesting to put on the blog.
I always think that McDonalds is the last refuge of the weary traveller - it’s the same in 200 languages and you always know the toilets are there.
April 18th, 2007 at 1:20 pm
I am looking forward to reading the post entitled “Fucking Lucy”, although I must say I hadn’t realised that This Is This was that sort of blog.
April 18th, 2007 at 10:01 pm
‘Jet lag’s wierd’, eh?
Not as weird as your fuggin spelling, pal.
And when you got to your hotel room, your first instinct ‘was’ to go exploring, not ‘is’, unless you’re playing with some crazy jazz tenses ting.
Still, pot-kettle etc…
You fancy drinks? Ringy? Maily? x
April 19th, 2007 at 5:15 am
I dont see any post called ‘Fucking Lucy’.
Is it, like, instructions?
April 19th, 2007 at 7:17 am
Ed, Katy - Don’t worry. It’s an adjective, not a verb - designed to shock. Heh, look who I’m talking to.
Sam - I think you’d have to be pretty weary or really need to use the McToilet.
Muppets - I can’t spell weird. I always get it wrong. And I can’t correct it now, because you’ve pointed it out. You ruin everything. I’ll mail you, all right. Mail you right up.
April 19th, 2007 at 12:43 pm
Don’t mail him to me!