Farewell NYC

And just like that, today was the day we had to bid farewell to this wonderful, whirlwind city. Seriously, where had the last seven days vanished to? It felt like we’d blinked and the week was over. Still, before we could get too sentimental, there was the small matter of the final packing. After a bit of strategic squashing and perhaps some minor miracles of spatial engineering, we’d managed to cram everything we’d accumulated into our two cases, the newly acquired small rucksack, and, in true British holiday style, the obligatory overstuffed carrier bag. Ready for the off!

Penn Station Palaver

Penn station Double Deck Train

With our bags successfully (if somewhat creatively) packed, we headed onto the subway to catch the downtown Number 1 train, destination: Penn Station. It's not too far to walk once you're inside the station complex, but then came the familiar challenge – trying to buy a ticket to Newark Airport. It’s never as straightforward as you’d hope, especially when you don’t instinctively know that the airport is referred to as "EWR" on those evil self-serve ticket machines. Yes, those blasted things were back to haunt us one last time!

After a bit of head-scratching and probably some muttered curses at the unhelpful screens, we eventually triumphed. We then navigated our way through the rather gloomy, sprawling station and onto the correct platform where our train awaited. Unbeknownst to me at the time Jane was wrestling with the machine, the tickets we’d acquired were for one of those shiny, double-decker Amtrak trains – a definite step up from our arrival journey!

Getting onto this one was a lot easier too; the gap between the platform and the train was much smaller, and the accessible spot was conveniently located right by the doors, between the upper and lower levels. This made life so much simpler for Jane with her crutches. However, once we were on board, it became apparent that all the designated accessible seats were already occupied. Just as we were wondering what to do, a rather fearsome-looking train guard appeared behind us, clearly there to assist. She took one look at Jane, then at the folks comfortably settled in the priority seats, and declared in a voice that brooked no argument, "If you haven’t got a disability, then you’ll need to move!"

This pronouncement was met with a sea of blank stares from the seated occupants. But this was clearly not a train guard you wanted to mess with. "Move out of the seat, or move off the train," she repeated, her tone leaving no doubt she meant business.

Airport

About fifty minutes after leaving Penn Station, with the seat-hoggers duly sorted by our no-nonsense train guard, we arrived at the Newark Airport railroad station. We then started to make our way to the upper level to catch the Air-train to the terminal, but we hit a bit of a snag with the lift. We were stood there patiently, but the lift, despite clearly serving levels below us (presumably staff-only areas), just kept whizzing past without stopping. Just as we were starting to wonder if we’d ever escape the platform, the biggest transit cop I’d ever clapped eyes on ambled over. This bloke was enormous! He explained that the staff have a special key that allows them to bypass the public calls for the lift, so they don’t have to wait. Seeing our plight, he then kindly used his magic key to summon the lift for us, so we didn’t have to wait any longer. What a star!

It was all to much for me

By now, it was around 1:30 in the afternoon, and our flight wasn't scheduled to depart until 7:25 in the evening, so we had a fair old wait on our hands. After hanging around the landside area of the terminal for a bit, we realised there wasn't much to see or do – no shops or anything interesting to browse. So, we decided to bite the bullet, check our bags in, and head through security to the airside part of the terminal.

Once through all the security faff, I had a bit of a wander around the shops, but then, all of a sudden, the last few hectic days seemed to catch up with me all at once. My energy levels just plummeted, and to top it off, a banging headache decided to make an unwelcome appearance. I managed to find some painkillers and even found a quietish spot to try and get some kip, successfully nodding off for an hour or so. I was definitely feeling a bit rough.

Gate Lice & Flight

We eventually made it to the departure gate, and as expected, the usual bun fight kicked off once the boarding announcement was made. Our boarding passes put us in group 7, but thanks to Jane’s disability, she was quite rightly allowed on first, even before the first-class passengers. I could have gone on with her, seeing as we were travelling together, but in a moment of blissful ignorance, I didn’t realise this until it was far too late. Another valuable travel lesson learned for next time!

When general boarding started, it quickly descended into organised chaos, with the usual suspects trying to jump the queue and board well ahead of their group. I've since learned these eager beavers are rather unkindly referred to as "gate lice." Amidst this scrum, I noticed a bloke waving his hat about, trying to push his way through the throng. He then ducked around the back of the check-in desk, at which point the gate staff spotted him and, it’s fair to say, they weren’t best pleased. It turned out this rather flustered chap was actually the pilot, and apparently, he should have been safely tucked away in the cockpit long before passengers started to board! The next thing we knew, he was kicking everyone off the plane again – everyone, that is, apart from Jane, who was already comfortably settled. It was a right kerfuffle, but despite all this last-minute drama, we still somehow managed to leave on time.

Unlike the almost personal jet we’d enjoyed on the way over, this return flight was on a large jumbo jet. As far as I could tell, once everyone was crammed in, it bore a closer resemblance to a flying cattle truck than a luxury liner. Still, it was getting us home.

What we’d gained in the time difference coming to New York, we were now set to lose on the way back. So, even though we took off around 7:30 in the evening, we wouldn't be landing in the UK until 7:30 the following morning. The flight itself was actually a bit shorter on the way back, only around seven hours as opposed to the eight it took us to get there. There was precious little chance of getting any proper sleep wedged into our seats, so we pretty much spent the entire flight catching up on movies we hadn’t seen before, letting Hollywood transport us across the Atlantic.