Thursday

I got up earlyish, knowing that I'd have to finish (not to mention start) packing before leaving to catch the 8:34 train down to London. I'd sort-of-calculated that that would get me to Heathrow in plenty of time for the flight at 1:20pm. I haven't flown anywhere from London for a while, but on this occasion it was somehow much cheaper to go from there than Birmingham. So having thrown all the important things into a bag, leaving only a couple of other things to sort out at some point in the journey (finish writing a letter to my brother - we keep up an old-fashioned correspondence so we can draw silly pictures - and pick up a new book to read, to go along with "Sex And Other Changes" by David Nobbs which I was re-reading. My strategy on plane journeys is to get something new and exciting, plus something I've read before and know I'll like in case the new and exciting one turns out to be terrible). Things didn't go entirely to plan. I'd forgotten to write my brother's new address on the envelope and couldn't remember what it was, so when the train got into St Pancras I tried emailing him and phoning my grandma to find it out, but got no reply in either case. I ended up carrying the letter around with me all weekend, and just posted it today.

I took the tube from St Pancras to Heathrow, and I'd forgotten how long it takes. My vague calculations had told me that I'd get there in plenty of time for the suggested two hours before takeoff (I get paranoid about missing planes, I think I've mentioned that before, so I always like to get there very early. Besides, I like hanging around departure lounges), but in fact by the time I got there there was only a bit over an hour's leeway! Still, I only had carry-on luggage, so check-in wasn't a problem. I used the machine and it presented me with an interesting option. Upgrade to business class for £330? What the heck, I thought, and decided on a whim to do it.

I hate having money to waste on things like this. My new job pays me frankly much more than I want or need. So I felt guilty all through the flight, thinking of all the people in the world who could really have benefitted from that £330, if I hadn't wasted it on an imperceptibly more comfortable seat, lots of legroom and complimentary cocktails if I'd wanted them (I don't drink when I'm on my own, so I didn't). Still, the legroom was nice. I'm five foot eight and I feel cramped in economy class, so I dread to think what it must be like for big people.

The guy sitting next to me wore sunglasses throughout the journey, even though it was quite gloomy in the cabin. He spent his time making notes about a treatment for a movie, and flirting with the stewardesses, but my worries that he'd be the type to talk to me (I hate being trapped for long periods next to a sociable person) were unfounded - talking with men didn't seem to interest him at all. The other passengers in business class seemed to mostly consist of business types. A couple of men wearing suits and ties and tapping on laptops, and that was it, there were plenty of empty seats. I was trying not to mentally criticise them for being pretentious, since I'm obviously the kind of person to waste money on seat upgrades myself. It was nice to avoid all the queueing at security, boarding and getting off the plane, though.

The journey was not one of those that went quickly. I hadn't had time to buy a new book, the movies were all awful, bland, American family entertainment and the Disney channel was just showing American teen comedy rather than cartoons. Thinking this to myself, I realised that I only use the adjective 'American' to describe the things I don't like, and resolved to make a real effort not to do that in future, especially while I was a guest in the country. The audio entertainment was good, though - there was a sixties station and a seventies one, both of them with a great range of songs from their respective decades. But I was still sufficiently bored that I had to pass the time with a bit of memory training, something I don't like doing in public with people wandering around. Nobody asked me what the heck I was doing, which I was sort of hoping for.

Anyway, we finally arrived at JFK airport. The immigration guy was a very friendly sixty-something man who was making jokes with everyone whose forms he was stamping and fingers he was scanning with those scary devices. I still decided not to risk making jokes back, just in case, and got admitted into the country without any difficulty. I bought a book to read while I was there - 'Black House' by Stephen King and Peter Straub. You can't normally go wrong with Stephen King, and I did like 'The Talisman', their previous collaboration, but I haven't really got into this one. My tourist schedule didn't leave me much time for reading, and I've still only read the first couple of paragraphs.

Public transport turned out to be surprisingly easy, I got to Penn Station in the heart of the Big Apple in no time and without any fuss. I was marvelling at all the cool buildings I saw in the suburbs from the train on the way. There's always something fascinating about foreign architecture, I love those wooden houses they have in American, and even the brick ones were somehow distinctly different from the ones you see in Britain. And the skyscrapers! Woo! I absolutely adore big shiny buildings, and New York is (unsurprisingly enough) absolutely packed with them!

The walk from the station to the hotel was also very easy. The numbered streets really do help you find your way from A to B. The Carlton hotel on 29th and Madison (I got really into the habit of giving US-style street addresses) turned out to look much posher than I'd expected considering it was fairly cheap. The room up on the 9th floor was very nice, but I just dumped my bags and went out to look around. I'd deliberately not arranged to meet anyone on the Thursday night so that I could wander the city in the dark and go to bed when I got tired, and that's just what I did. Lots of shiny lights and exciting city streets, it was great! Ate in McDonald's, which is perfectly acceptable because it counts as sampling the local cuisine.

Anyway, the really interesting things happened over the next couple of days, which I'll fill you all in about tomorrow. I went to bed as late as I could manage, which turned out to be about 9pm, local time.