Day 24

October 27, 2021:

The windows dripped with rain from the night before, the clouds still clearing as a new day dawned. I checked my Warmshowers messages and saw a there weren’t any positive responses… most people were just busy or out of town. Mama suggested I take a look at the possibility of getting my Covid booster shot here in New York before departing for Ireland. While I was at first skeptical, it turns out I do meet the eligibility requirements. I booked the booster shot appointment at a Walgreens at Journal Square for 11:00 am. While I was thinking about it, I scheduled my PCR test that I’ll need for travel to Ireland for 10/29 around noon. This is a specially calculated time to ensure that the test results will likely arrive before I board the plane and remain valid by the time I pass through customs in Ireland. I made a mental note to complete the Ireland Covid Locator Form – which must be completed before boarding my departing flight from Newark – when I get my PCR test done. It must also be done within 72 hours of arrival in Ireland. I checked the status of the flight and added an additional checked bag on top of the bicycle I’ve already specified. So the morning was mostly about logistics.

Hunor would spend the day working from home, and offered that I could stay at his apartment again since I hadn’t received any Warmshowers replies. I decided to leave my bicycle in his apartment, but took my wallet, phone, and passports with me.

I left around 10:00 am on foot for the Walgreens. On the way, I realized I’d be really early, so I stopped at the Crema café again for another slice of raspberry cheesecake and a cinnamon-encrusted churro. When I reached Journal Square, I had trouble finding the entrance to the Walgreens. There are signs for it stationed all around the building, but no doors to get inside, aside from the entrance to Jollibee next door, some Filipino chicken place. When I did find the entrance, I asked a cashier where the vaccination site was, and she directed me downstairs. There, I walked up to the check-in counter and gave them my information. The pharmacist could not find my registration and refused to allow me to make a walk-in appointment. I made a little bit of a deal about it, since it seemed really easy for me to just fill out the required paperwork right there, and assuming they have booster shots on hand (since I saw many open time slots online), it shouldn’t be an issue for them. But they remained firm, and when I went to re-book my appointment, the Walgreens I was at no longer showed available time slots for a few more hours. Instead, if I wanted to get a shot as soon as possible and leave as much time to explore the city as possible, I’d instead need to go to a clinic in Brooklyn. Coming from Jersey City, that’s a pretty long way, involving multiple subway transfers.

I made the appointment in Brooklyn anyway and hopped on one of the PATH trains into the city, getting off at the World Trade Center, where I transferred to the 2 line to Brooklyn. At President St, I got off, initially disoriented from the way the subway exit confused my sense of direction relative to the direction the train had come from. I wandered down the main drag looking for Crown St, then realized I was flipped an exact 180 degrees around from where I thought I was going. When I came up to the vaccination site at Medgar Evers College, there was a long fence made from metal bars leading to a gate as an entrance. Situated at the gate was a white foldout tent guarded by two men in military uniform. They asked if I had an appointment, asked if I had any symptoms, and asked me to show my ID and previous CDC vaccination card. In New York, you need to bring that card everywhere with you, as people *do check* when you walk into restaurants and other stores. The men cleared me to enter, directing me to follow a strip of red paint that led into a small campus of prefab trailers with recycled plastic ‘wooden’ walkways running between them. It led into a registration room, where my appointment was electronically confirmed, and I was once again asked to show ID and proof of former vaccination. I was then directed to another trailer with a placard taped to it reading ‘Pfizer.’ Mama would be irritated that they do not also attribute credit to Biontech. There, I sat in a white chair separated from others in the room by about six feet. A lady stationed at one of the desks directed both me and another woman leave that trailer and go to a different one down the way. We did, and I soon found myself in another white chair, this time being assisted by the attendant there. She once again confirmed my ID and proof of vax, then told me I’d still receive the Pfizer-Biontech booster since that’s what they had in stock. I had heard that maybe mix-and-matching might prove more effective, but the choice was made easy, since the Pfizer booster is all they had at that moment. I confirmed with her that the booster shot will not make me test false-positive on the PCR test that I would need for travel. “No, it won’t, though it may result in a positive antigen test.” She took a cotton swab and applied alcohol on my left arm to sanitize the injection spot. It was over in an instant, just a slight sharp poke followed by a band-aid on my arm. They had me wait in an observation room for a full fifteen minutes before I could leave. I say full because the guy there took a slip of paper with the exact time the attendant had written I had been given the booster, and actually watched us all. There was another military guy in the room, I think serving as EMS in case someone actually did have an issue with the booster. When it was over, I made my way back to the gate, but hesitated. Instead of leaving, I asked if they might also happen to have a public restroom I could use, since there seem to be so few of those in the city. They directed me back up to the trailers, to talk to the observation guy for further directions. I never needed to ask though: signs for the restrooms were clearly demarcated, albeit seemingly leading you into an ‘authorized only’ zone. I crossed the barrier, turned a corner, and came face-to-face with two police. I quickly explained I was just seeking the restroom per the signs, and they pointed to a trailer down the way. When I finally did leave, I thanked the gents at the gate, then wandered back towards the subway.

I was hungry. Really hungry. I had deliberately not eaten breakfast because I knew on one of these days, I’d have to follow through on my promise to check out Carmine’s. Today would be that day. I hopped back on the 2 line north to 42nd St and Broadway, getting off into the bustle of Times Square. I was greeted with the iconic site of gigantic flashing LED screens the size of whole buildings, rivers of people, honks, whistles, beeps, and shouts, and smells ranging from burnt brake fluid to perfumes and body odor. I was mesmerized by the glowing signs, at first just for their entertainment value, then for the symbolism of Times Square itself as one of the centers of Capitalism in the US. I wondered how much companies paid to take out ads in Times Square, and if they’d be able to recoup that investment from the attention it naturally attracts, or if people would be too wooed by the tourist attraction itself to focus on the products actually being marketed. Looking more closely at each of the screens, I could see they were assembled from smaller rectangles of LEDs, and wondered how they work on a detailed level. (but I digress).

I found 44th St quickly, and saw large vertical white signs indicating I was approaching Carmine’s. They have an outdoor seating area under a small canopy as well as a well-furnished decorative wooden interior. At first I was content to sit outside, but it was a cold day, and I quickly felt it. I asked to move inside. I was checked at the entryway by Covid-bouncers if you will, who looked at my CDC card and ID. Inside, the waitresses wanted to seat me at the bar, but I insisted on a table, which would make me a lot more comfortable. When I was seated, another waiter approached with a glass of water and a bowl of bread. I knew immediately what I wanted, but needed time to clarify with Mama if I should order the Chicken Marsala with angel hair pasta as the waiter had recommended. Mama said I should get it with spaghetti, so that’s what I did. I also ordered a small beaker of wine, and picked a Merlot I’m sure Mama would have liked. While I was waiting on my food, I messaged Dada to let him know I was at Carmine’s. He asked if I went to the touristy one on Time’s Square or the right one on the Upper West side. Whoops! I’m sure the food is just as good, but I guess I didn’t get “the experience.” Both my parents lived near Columbia University while Dada got his law degree there, so they are qualified to know what all the best spots in the city are, and will surely be disappointed if I don’t do things exactly as they did. They have regaled me with stories of New York all my life, but especially legendary has been Carmine’s. It’s known for its gigantic portion sizes (meant for four people) and top-tier food. When my food did arrive minutes later, I literally mouthed ‘Holy fuck’ when I saw they hadn’t been kidding (the waiters had also kindly warned me). The food came on a gigantic platter with a foundation of spaghetti cooked al-dente topped with maybe a dozen meaty pieces of chicken, the whole thing bathed in a saucy mushroom marsala sauce. Delicious! Carmine’s lives up to the hype. I ate fast at first, gobbling through most of the chicken, but soon slowed, savoring each bite and appreciating the mushrooms. I tried to sus out how they make the sauce so I can improve Mama’s home attempts, but really couldn’t put my finger on it. I don’t think they use any cream to dilute the marsala wine though. The waiter asked me how I was doing. “I don’t think I can possibly finish all of this…” “Yeah, but I’m rooting for you, man!” I made it a few more bites. I could have eaten more, probably a lot more, but I’ve learned over the years to stop when I feel satisfied. Pushing the limits of my stomach will only leave me discontent and possibly nauseous. Instead, I asked for a to-go bag and the bill, leaving a good tip.

After Carmine’s, I wandered around Times Square a bit more. I saw an earlier message where Mama also told me to go to the one on the Upper West side. A shame I didn’t see it earlier. I followed some side streets, finding Bryant Park. The park has dozens of small distinct green kiosks within which are these microshops – almost like craft stores you might find at the Renaissance Faire. A lot of them appeared to be in a state of transition, as if all the leases were synched up at once, and many new shops were moving in. I stopped to rest at a table and sat in one of the green chairs there, watching a shop owner decorate their ceiling with lights and suspend a model torso by one of the windows. I checked my phone to see if there were any nearby Geocaches, and found one lurking under a news stand near One Vanderbilt. I didn’t have a pen, but took a picture with it and logged the find in the app. I then entered a weird store – it looked like they might sell greeting cards, perfumes, and vitamins? – and asked if they had a restroom. They did not. A clerk pointed me down the street to the Pret A Manger which he said had one. I walked there, got the bathroom entry code, and took a much needed piss.

There really need to be more public restrooms in the city. Seriously. I encounter this issue every day here in New York – and really every large city in the country – and it’s really frustrating. More than once have I been tempted to furtively urinate in a bush simply because I cannot find a proper public restroom in stores or restaurants. Nor do I think such stores and restaurants should be mandated to open those doors, since it would obviously cost them extra time to maintain and mess up their cultivated atmospheres. I literally saw someone urinate on the street here, actually between Bryant Park and the weird store. I think that cities should be mandated to provide public restrooms, and that doing so would improve city sanitation and odors, reduce the spread of disease, and improve the experience of literally everyone in the city – from tourists like myself to everyday workers to the homeless. I think the ideal way for this to happen would be for federal government to mandate that cities provide these amenities – perhaps on a per capita basis – on land already owned by public authorities. This could be something as simple as a porta-potty located in parks or road medians or something as complex as a full restroom, stocked with hand soap and toilet paper. I do very much appreciate the system of public restrooms I’ve seen in Germany, whereby an attendant will almost operate them as a business, charging a small fee for entry in exchange for toilet paper availability and modest cleanliness. I think that solution could work, but think it would screw over the homeless and place a greater demand on small bills and quarters that people would have to carry around. Instead, I’d prefer to pay for the system via my taxes, possibly augmented with some sort of tip jar for the janitorial staff. I know it sounds minor, but the lack of public restrooms is seriously bothersome.

Mama had suggested I ride the glass elevator to the top of One Vanderbilt to get an immaculate view of the city, and I thought that was a cool idea. I walked back down to One Vanderbilt, entered, and counterintuitively went *downstairs* following signs for the observation deck. Unfortunately, it’s closed (at least on the day I went), and that was confirmed by a few employees I saw while down there. From One Vanderbilt, I walked south in the direction of the new World Trade Center, passing the Empire State Building on the way. I remember having been to the top of the Empire State Building before, but that was years ago, and I had been sick that week. I recall looking down from the top seeing a sea of yellow taxi cabs on the streets below – in the days before Uber. I’m sure One Vanderbilt is magnificent, and I may well have to return to it on another visit, but I do remember having seen the New York skyline from skyscraper height before. Other things I’ve done before – and remember well – include: visiting the 9/11 memorial reflection pools (though it may then have still been under construction), visiting the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island via ferry, eating at Katz’ Delicatessen (and their hefty meat sandwiches), briefly looking into the MET and the Museum of Natural History by Central Park, visiting Columbia University with its marble steps and the apartment Mama and Dada used to live in, walking the Brooklyn Bridge, and really just walking everywhere. I’m sure I saw a lot of other things then that I don’t remember now, but that was back in – what, 2005?

I soon realized I’d never make it all the way to the World Trade Center on foot, and understood more clearly the fruitlessness of trying to walk from one side of the city to the other. New York is just big. REALLY BIG. Manhattan alone is something like 10 miles long, and that’s not including the surrounding borrows or NJ. I understood why the subway is the best way of getting around, even if the fares add up quickly. As the evening wore on, the sun got low on the horizon, and I used the opportunity to find the nearest subway stop and head back to Jersey City. I got off at Journal Square again and walked home, sending Hunor a quick update that I was on my way back. I also let him know that he wouldn’t have to order food for me since I was still carrying the box from Carmine’s.

When I got back, Hunor gave me the code to buzz myself into the building. I showed myself in, climbed the stairs, and gently knocked on the door to his apartment. I heard cooking, so I tried the door knob and it opened. I stepped in, waved to Hunor in the kitchen, and dropped my things by my bike. I took a shower, then redressed to meet Hunor in the kitchen. I warmed my Carmine’s leftovers on a plate in the microwave, and joined him for dinner. I asked him how he uses Warmshowers – if he sends just one request, or if he finds it more effective to send multiple requests, and if two people both agree, to choose between the two? “The latter.” After we ate, he had to do laundry, and I decided to bring my stuff along. Instead of having a washer/dryer setup in his apartment or even in the building, he uses a laundromat down the street. It was night when we left, and we passed a Lukoil gas station on the way there (remarkable only because I think they’re Russian?). Hunor offered to use his card to pay for the laundry, and I offered to pay him back with venmo, but he refused, just like dinner last night. Really nice guy. We ended up walking to and from the laundromat three times in total: once to start the wash, once to start the dry, and once to pick it all up.

After the laundry was done, I drank another glass of orange juice and started getting ready for bed. I got lay down on the couch and pulled the covers over me, but stayed up a bit later with my computer. I rephrased my Warmshowers request from a specific day to instead explain my overall situation with my flight on the 31st and ask for hosts to let me know which day from among the range of remaining days works best for them. I sent dozens of these requests to Warmshowers hosts in NJ, Manhattan, and Brooklyn. I figure that at least a few people will say it’s alright for me to stay with them, and that will allow me to bounce between hosts, never staying for too long so as not to be too much of a burden on their lives. In my experience, Warmshowers hosts are exceptionally kind people, but I don’t want to exploit that if I can schedule my stays in a more considerate way.