I had a co-worker with a sixth sense regarding travel deals. Travelling solo to parts of Europe and the United States and experience in the hospitality business equipped her with a nose for a deal. One slow day in July, she called me over and pointed to a round-trip flight to New York for under five hundred Canadian.
I couldn’t get my credit card out fast enough.
After planning, researching, and talking about New York for almost two years now came the doing. I don’t look at this as a trip; I see it as:
While most people find the nearest beach in February, I will find myself in one of the densest places on the planet. The New York crime rate during my ’84 didn’t freak me out, the packed buildings and people did. Instead of a day trip, I will have days to explore museums, cafes, live theatre, and more bookstores than I can shake a proverbial stick at. Hopefully, these stores will host major author events. Also filed under ‘hopefully’ the ability not to get lost too often.
Did I mention it’s a solo trip?
I envision one person getting freaking out over the prospect. Most people look at it as an odd thing to do. Unless Prince Charming or Richard Armitage pulls up with another proposition, I intend to do the trip, and it will turn into the first of many.
Sometimes if I have a bad day, I pull up my Google map with my hotel already marked as a favourite looking at places to go and see if I can walk it or take the subway. Between the travel guides, I read some non-fiction about New York. I recently read E.B.White’s slim volume entitled Here is New York with its telling line:
On any person who desires such queer prizes, New York will bestow the gift of loneliness and the gift of privacy.
Most people would feel terrified by either prospect. I admit feeling more lonely in Winnipeg. I expect not knowing anyone and will enjoy not playing six degrees of separation that happens here. I desire a little bit of privacy and museums. I want a bit of privacy and a theatre play. Get the picture?
I seem to remember in Sex and the City, Carrie Bradshaw called New York her boyfriend. I call Winnipeg the neighbourhood guy I married. He’s nice, stable, and treats me well. Lately, my relationship with Winnipeg has hit a rocky patch. Perhaps a trial separation will help.