Guy Brighton's Wishful Thinking

Sun 31st July : Hampton'd Out

Spent 4 days at the Hampton's with the Lady's family. Up in the springs with her parents and brother. It was just like Philly - lots of bbq steak and fish and jumping in the pool and playing cards - just in a different house.

In some ways the Hamptons is just like New York - everyone beeps the fk out of you if you slow down to gawp at someone's big house. There is also no parking.

Shelter Island was a scene. That little bar, restaurant on Sunset Beach with all the little speed boats coming in to it.

And then you leave Shelter Island to the north - to Bridgepoint or whatever its called. And you really are back in America with a bump - Harley rallies and classic rock on the pier. You know then, your holiday is over. Back to the reality of NYC.

Thur 10th Mar : Squeezin' Outa Seattle

I know I was feeling bad but it's all ok now. They sat me in between two rather huge ladies from Alaska on the way back to EWR. For a moment I was going to rant about airlines should have restrictions about bottom size but then they turned out to be very nice people - all 16 of the chubbies were going on an education tour of Europe.

They hadn't traveled much. I was introduced as a guy who lives on an island in the East.... Manhattan island.

Thur

Tue 18th Jan : Through The Dam

Wow. Back in Europe again. On the way to Warsaw. Waiting in Amsterdam airport really made me happy. Buzz. Accents, people, individual cultural angles on homogeneous cultural activities (coffee, cafes, drinking). Man, there's a casino in the airport. People smoking in their areas and it smells ok. Why shouldn't they?

I'm tired. I came business class on a conservative no frills airline. I wondered what the money for the ticket went to until they brought me out a huge steak. I was full by the first third but you can't waste food. And then you can't sleep with your full belly.

But the airport is a-buzz and I can speak English and they reply in their unexpected accent. Wow.

Thurs 2nd Dec : Windy City

Anyway. Chicago. I stayed at a hotel near the airport yeaterday called the Westin. One of the better ones but no wheresville. I sat in a couple of meetings yestreday and today and then I remembered that I had accidentally booked myself in at the W Hotel downtown for a couple of nights. Nice. 50 minutes from the meetings but my colleague's around to start them if I am late.

The W was a crazy night club as Ws are. You're standing there at reception and you feel a bit of a wally with your luggage whilst the party's going on around you. Then you think: hang on - why do I feel this? I'm checking in and this is a hotel.

I somehow got upgraded. Don't know why. So I took the opportunity to moan about the lack of cell phone reception in the room and got unpgraded to an even 'Mega' Room.

Anyway - out on the tiles I will go. On my own. Hopefully the colleague will be up for a couple of beers tomorrow - would be good to hit Chicago with full sails, blow through the city, whirlsind tour of the the bars: it will be a breeze.

;)

Mon 15th Nov : Silent Seattle

Back in Seattle again. It's nice to slow down a gear. You have to or the relaxed attitude will wind you up too much.

The city center is ok. This time I tried a different hotel: I downgraded (!) and went to a Sheraton. Well it had a pool. The difference between the W and the Sheraton - I feel like I'm a long way from home at the Sheraton. The whole ambiance makes me miss my loved ones.

I think a visitor needs to be on their guard in Seattle though. There's something odd going on. I couldn't find a single pub in the downtown area. No Irish bar all Grill This or This Grill. I ended in Zoe's on 2nd - the starter of Bluetail was heavenly, the main course with scallops and corn and bacon and Japanese mushroom and cream potato was a tad too complicated. I told the waiter but, nice as he was, he was too interested about to know where I came from. I told him New York. He gave me a Zagat's America's Top Restaurants for free.

Another reason not to trust Seattle is the way some people dress for dinner. We're in a pretty decent restaurant and most the crowd are comfortably affluent looking, no hipsters - hey, this is Monday night -BUT here and there are a couple of pockets of couples dressed like they just popped out to take the trash to the front of the drive. Dismal sweats on dismal jeans with weary hair sat on a weary face - and that's just the women. It's like those big tech company's that let anyone wear what they like at work and people start turning up in Bermuda shorts and no one bats an eye lid. Somehow they're forty eight an bald and think they're cool. If  I flew half way round the world for a business meeting and someone turned up to a meeting like that with me I'd march him down to the canteen, have a good shout about it, make an example of him to teach the rest a lesson. Anyway, I can't to night. I'm in a restaurant on my own. I am just looking at similar folk. I just watch these gormless fellows chew their food with their mouthes open: America really can be a classless society at times

In fact when you walk down the streets and swing past the vast amount of homeless and junkies - more per capita than a large British seaside town in the winter - you wonder how this all works. These poor chaps sit beside grand buildings built in good times with their hands outstretched for a taste of food whilst a couple in a restaurant - dressed pretty similar to the homeless person (just a little cleaner) - eat without registering the taste of the food, of life, of any time.

Phew. Must stop. Maybe that glass of red wine got me on a roll.

Sun 10th October : First Seattle Then Vancouver

I get up. It's very early still. I feel far away from everyone. I decide to go phone Davo to with him happy birthday. I search the streets of downtown Seattle to find that there's a ratio of 23 junkies to every 1 public telephone at 7am in the morning.

Back at the W I think I hurt the staff's feelings when I return the Seattle Times paper to the front desk and ask for a New York Times. The restaurant is open and I walk in. 'Michelle' looks at me as if I am one of those junkies down the street. OK, so I haven't showered yet. Can I sit anywhere? I ask. Her response makes me feel that I am in Europe again. I'm led to a table and I am indecisive about which seat I'm going to take just to piss her off a little.

The food is OK but in this mood I try to convince myself it is poor but I can’t forget the horror of the Continental Airlines platter from the previous morning. That microwaved mush must cost them about 24c to prepare.

The Lady calls me later and asks me why I'm blogging on this and PSFK. I feel like a jerk so I go see the Frank Gehry building. It takes a little time as I walk the wrong direction but when I get assisted in the right direction by a helpful taxi. Taxi drivers are either Eritrean, Ethiopian or Somalian. They are all wonderfully friendly and chatty versus the W Hotel management.

I must stop moaning about the W. My boss will find this blog one day and send me to a motel outside the city center.

When I set eyes on the Frank Gehry building I am just taken aback. My eyes bulge as they try to take in all the joyous information; all the curves; the turns; the troughs, the hills, the rises, the swoons.

Bilboa was amazing but Seattle's Music Museum is simply beautiful. Gehry must be the most important architect in the US today.

It's two now and I feel that I have 'done Seattle'.

I jump in the car and charge north to the border. The advice that it's only 2 hours was a little optimistic. Nevertheless I have passed through amazing landscapes filled with Dutch looking farm houses to reach the Canadian border. There I get a few questions about the burger costume at customs but they seem happy to have me. How refreshing versus JFK Immigration.

[More Photros To Come]

Vancouver. What a gorgeous city. Far more cosmopolitan than Seattle, in touch, buzzy, friendly. I drive around for an hour, pick up a bottle of red from British Columbia have some cheap sushi - they told me the seafood was great here, and it bloody was - then drive back.

A hundred more questions at the US border but as I drive home I am inspired to drive faster than the rest of the traffic by a radio station I find. No more prog-rock, no more middle class white kids screaming about the Armageddon of their privileged suburban lives. Now I am rocking to worldly house and tribal grooves. The oncoming traffics' bright lights and the grinding beats remind me of that time the sun came up in that club in Ibiza. In the dark everyone choreographed beautifully in an Eden connected on some soulful level. But as the sun climbed we were all exposed to be fakes: zombies, gaunt, aloof, ugly, controlled.

What a great thing to remember, eh? But a Zombie is how I felt when I got out of the car after 7 hours driving.

Worth every minute though.

SEPT 12th SEPT : LONDON UPDATE

When Bella handed me the keys this morning I tried to assure her that her and her husbands flat was in safe hands. She then said well you couldn’t really do anything worse than what the porno video you shot last time I stayed.

So…. She still hasn’t forgotten that has she, I thought to myself.

I have just moved into a flat for 2 weeks in Notting Hill. The start of this trip has been spent in Beckshell On Sea to see the folks. Potted about and managed to get my tooth crowned for £300 rather than the $1900 I was quoted in the US. Went and celebrated Davo and Mina’s engagement party and Anthea & Richard’s military organized wedding too.

London was a little bit of a shock at first. I found it a little pedestrian, despite the blue skies I longed for the heat and energy of New York. I was beginning to agree with Si’s comment that NY was an adventure playground for people in their 30s and London a theme park for people in their 40s.

Thank goodness I popped into Soho. Soho Saves Souls. Turn off the ever-nagging danger that is Oxford Street and you are suddenly hit with another city. Young people of all ages looking great. Soho of course is one of the creative districts of London: advertising, film making, music companies. Suddenly I was in love with London again. I spent my lunch on the steps of a building watching people walk past – you could have been in SoHo with all the clothing: Mexican wedding shirts, faded jeans, Ts declaring ‘New York City’!

Notting Hill where Bella and Dan lives saves souls too. They needed someone to sit their flat and feed the cat whilst they went on holiday. They live in the sort of square you’d expect Hugh Grant to live in. White regal mansion blocks surrounding a private garden with roses and lawn. What I do like about Notting Hilll is that it’s mixed with people of all different backgrounds. The place, by rights should be the haven of the affluent but because of WWII damage a lot of property is owned by the Notting Hill Housing Assoc that helps out lower waged souls.- i.e 'normal' people like Dan and Bella.

I’m not too sure why Bella worries about what I do in the flat to be honest. OK – the last time I stayed at their place – I think during their honeymoon - I shot this little film with some friends. I had been running one of the first viral marketing agencies in London. Our speciality was making emailable video clips. We were a little early to market and after some ads for Nissan business went dead.

The way to drum up business – my partners and I agreed – was a man, a woman and a bed. That would bring us the scent of success. OK, ok. Maybe we were all too excited about the fact the ‘actress’ was in fact a glamour model and she’d walk around without her clothes on for a couple of hundred quid. Maybe this excitement caused us not to Google her name until after the shoot when we found all those risqué images of her. So, yes we did bring a porn star round to Dan and Bella’s but who were we to know.

I wasn’t quite expecting Bella to find out about what we had done for a long while - the place was perfect when Dan and Bella came back from their honeymoon one Sunday evening - and I hoped that by the time she found out we could all sit back and laugh about it.

The call came in at 9.15am Monday morning. It would have been 9am but she had to look at some of her wedding photos. And one her baby cousin. Then she opened an email from a friend which included a saucy video attachment. This was our video. It was out and was already being passes around.

This was the first and only call that this campaign generated though.

When she watched it, Bella must have noted a woman strip off in her bedroom, climb onto her marital bed, shuffle over a naked man chained to the martial bed and then spin round and let a fart on the chap’s face. Maybe the ‘Let Loose with Set Loose Movies’ tag line gave away the originators. Maybe she took the words ‘Let Loose’ quite literally as my ear was red for days after that.

You can see the clip here: http://www.setloose.co.uk/movies/WindMedia.wmv . Quite innocent really.

I’m sure anyone could trust me with their apartment after that.

WEDS 2nd JUN : BACK IN THE UK

Landed pretty well with Air India thanks probably to the Zanax that the Lady's brother slipped me.

There seems to be an equal amount of similarity and difference with the US: everyone's talking about the price of petrol/gas. Now it's one pound to a litre versus 2 dollars for a gallon! On the other hand, the British papers seem to be the usual doom and gloom which is a nicce change from all the fear you read in the US press. Currently I notice that 1/3 of all Brits want to emmigrate (they wouldn't after reading my blog....) and there's the trains are up the spot (or people are getting well paid for them being so). At least the UK is not going to have to be scared for a number of undisclosed months until the terrorists attack.

On that note though - something to be scared about in the UK: The most striking aspect of life at the moment is 'England (soccer) Fever'. The pubs paint the fixtures on their chalkboards outside, cars drive with St George flags, flags fly from bedroom windows and everyone, yes everyone is wearing an English Football jersey. First game is still 10 days a way - and maybe someome's forgot to remind us (after drawing with Japan a couple of nights ago) that it's France we're playing for our first game. Shudder.

Now that I've popped down the East Sussex coast to see my folks in their new place. There's something quaint and nostalgic about the English seaside. Yes, it's cheap, yes it's a little shoddy - but it's full of innocent fun, full of making do, full of old values and oldies with grand kids. Today I can take a beach with pebbles and shingle and seaweed and breakers that stretches out to the sea. A beach from which you try to wave two fingers at France, if you could see it. Well - give me that beach for today and let me remember it when I'm spoilt on the golden sands somewhere far away another day.

SAT 1st MAY : ALMA DE CUBA

Found a great bar (Alma De Cuba) in posh part of Philly to celebrate the Lady's brother's birthday with his Perisan posse - cuban, great mojitos, classy. The Lady dancing all night long because she didn't want us to eat (note cheesesteak earlier in the day). The music is near absent.

Her parents turn up (tipsy from a party) at 1am to pick us up. She's still dancing; somehow bumping into people 8 feet away. I get the blame for the fact she's pissed. 'If only she let me eat,' I reply. Father manages to correctly position key into ignition, I close eyes, we get home.

SAT 1st MAY : PIZZA THE ACTION

Whilst the Lady and her mother bonded in the King of Prussia shopping mall, her father and brother took me to show me his businesses.

One of the Lady's father's jobs is proud part-owner of a number of Pizza joints near Philadelphia - some in Pennsylvania, some in New Jersey. We traveled by car and at every place he was greeted by respect - not only by the staff, but also by the customers. A peculiar eerie silence fell across the room as he ambled in.

At each place I was asked to try the food. Well, it would have been rude not to (despite the Lady's protests later in the day). I've never eaten so much in an afternoon: pizza and of course, one has to try the Philly Cheesesteak with extra mushroom in a hoagie.

At each place the chefs and managers waited in silence until I finished. 'And?' they prompted. The food was fabulous. As I nodded, the Lady's father burst into a big laugh and then the rest of the restaurant followed with laughter too.

At the last restaurant, after the laughter had died down, he turned to me and said, ‘you are going to look after my daughter, Guy, aren’t you?’

How friendly I thought.

SAT 20th MAR : PHILLY BACK STREETS

The Lady and her family left to visit the other Iranian families in the neighborhood (ten of them all day). I was left to wander the streets oh Philly. Here are some of the photos from South Street and 9th Avenue.

PHOTOS OF WASHINGTON DC

Images from my recent trip.

THUR 4th MAR: BEARING MY CHEST, LOSING MY SOUL

I wake up in the morning and I'm lost. It's not my parent's house, it's not the Lady's New York apartment. From the sofa, I see the three hundred My Little Ponies and various barbie dolls: it's my thirty eight year old sister's flat in Westminster.

The stinging headache kicks in and I remember sitting outside my sister's front door for about an hour last night waiting for her to come home. She had to shake me awake - very little came out of my mouth that made sense. I just waited patiently for her to find a duvet and the next thing is - I awake this morning to feel like this....

It's 11 o'clock already. I wonder how on earth the others from the Market Bar last night got to work this morning. I am already fully clothed so I de-horizontalize myself and stumble to the front door. I remember the Harrods bag with goodies that a friend gave me to bring to the Lady in New York. I find it: Although a little crumpled, somehow it has survived and there is nothing leaking from it.

Soon I am walking along the street, my parker coat wrapped under one arm, the Harrods bag swinging from the other. The hair on one side of my head is matted down in the wrong direction and on the other it is spiked up - and that's just my beard.

At Victoria station a woman in a nice uniform hands me a flyer and shows me the way onto a bus. Did you know the London Big Bus tour only takes one hour twenty two minutes? Enough time for some extra shut eye.

I get off and thank the helpful lady and head for my intended destination. On the train I read the text messages of the battle I had with the friend I fell out with when we stumbled into Atlantic Bar at 1am. Did you know it's still open? It is also a long walk from Victoria Station - especially to find the station closed in the middle of the night for engineering works. The exact reason for the fall out is now a mystery and regrets set in.

At East Croydon station I realise that this is the fourth time this fortnight that I have come home looking like this. When will I grow up? I hope I don't meet an old school friend.

As the train to Caterham pulls in I hear, 'Brighton!'. I look round - it's Mr. Armstrong, my old maniac geography teacher from when I was doing my A-Levels. He looks the same except now grey. He travels with me unimpressed or maybe disbelieving my talk of living in New York. Academics only respect academics I conclude. He talks of boys from my era that I cannot remember; boys who still live locally but are some way connected to the Old Boys sporting association.

At the station he offers me a lift. The radio plays REM's 'Losing My Religion'. He drops me off at my house and I feel that I am 13 again and I've met a teacher during summer holidays. I must stop wearing hoodies and jeans and wear something else: jackets with leather elbow patches perhaps. Good bye Mr. Armstrong.

My parents are pleased to see me but I have to tell them that I'll speak later. I try to sleep but I get the fear. There's a pain in my chest that I've had since I went to (old) York and I can see the blocked valve in my heart everytime I close my eyes.

I decide to drag my self back to Croydon to a walk-in medical centre. Good old NHS.

On the bus there a guy sat behind me starts playing a game with his phone. Sound on full. When I ask if he can turn it down, he actually apologizes and turns the phone off!

Is it always the way??: whenever you go see the doctor you also happen to have been living the most unhealthy week of your life. To the nurse I describe the night before - minus the drama - and my intake of alcohol, cigarettes etc since I came to London. I become a leper - I think, if only they could read my blog they'll know that I didn't enjoy smoking so much...

When I take my top off, the nurse has trouble working out how to use the EPG machine but finally with the help of four others it's running. I feel like one of those Trekkie borgs and my blood is already running high. 'Hmmm,' she hums and then goes and consults the results with the rest of the clinic. The conclusion is that if in doubt I should pop along to the hospital to get fully tested.

I say - ok, I'll get may jacket. She stops me getting up: no, you can't go upstairs - you have chest pains. Two minutes later a paramedic walks through the door in full regalia. I get the full review about my social life - this time I am forced to admit the ten pints of Guinness, three bottles of pilsner lager, five jack and cokes and a glass of pink champagne I had last night. I decide not to mention the half of Guinness I had with my dad at the Cutty Sark pub on the river in Greenwich during the day.

Two more minutes later two ambulance women tough enough to be police officers walk into the room. I have to explain my social life to them too - luckily I am now well rehearsed. They try to make me feel bad for my behaviour but I look at them and I know they must have a good drink to relieve the pressure. A chair with wheels appears and I am asked to sit in it. It's OK, I'll just walk there. Oh no - there are rules now. I sit in it - they put a red grand-dad's blanket on me and strap me in - so I don't hurt my arms. As I am wheeled out, the ladies on reception look down at me horrified. They must be thinking, 'I know he stunk of alcohol but...'

In the ambulance they run another EPG. People ogle through the back door at all the leads connected to my naked torso. Then I am strapped in more and the blue lights go on, the siren sounds and we dash through the streets of Croydon towards Mayday Hosipital. 'Isn't this little dramatic?', I ask. But rules are rules. I imagine that we go over a lot of pavements and curbs and avoid the odd pedestrian. The driver swears at the traffic like a miner in a Geordie pub after work.

At A&E I get the old ER treatment and get banged through into the emergency ward. A kind nurse asks about my social life again as another one sticks some sort of straw in arm. I think of saying, 'oi nurse, stop giving me the needle'.

For twenty minutes I seem centre of attention. The doctor is sweet but frowns when I say that I have been away from my girlfriend and thus been out and about a bit.

The hospital's EPG comes back and says I'm clear. Getting dumped is quick here. I get shunted out into the public ward to lie alongside the old and the drunk whilst I wait three hours for my blood results. I look up at my reflection in the black glass dome of a 'hidden' camera in the dusty poly-tiled ceiling and I think, 'this is what it's going to look like when I die'.

It's hard to feel depressed for too long in a hospital becuase it is a tropical region of love. The staff are all in love with each other and the patients are all in love with the doctors and especially the nurses. What makes you fall in love with all the nurses around you? You think everyone of them are so wonderful, so kind. I feel sad for the constant flow of old people coming in altho it helps me stand out a bit in front of the nurses. Or maybe it is the hairy chest and small pot belly.

The blood test is fine. I've been there so long I fail to be relieved and I am discharged before I even get to discuss what alternative reason there may be for the pain in my chest.

Thanks to the ambulance ride, I have to ask the receptionist 'where am I?' She gives me a kind smile and says in slow English, 'It's OK dear. Would like to see a doctor?'

What a day. Makes you want to geta pint in, to get the edge off it.

RANDOM mBLOG POST: COACH & HORSES, SOHO

SAT 28th FEB : LONDON versus NEW YORK DINNER PARTY

So a classic dinner party in Westbourne Grove was enjoyed Saturday night: turning up around 7.30, varied crowd of people all bringing more booze than is recommended for monthly consumption, chaps spend the first hour in the kitchen, the girls in the living room, dinner arrives about 9.30, boy girl boy girl, Thai curry, now onto the wine, some discussion against Atkins diet and the heavy night everyone seemed to have the night before, after dinner smoking marathon, marijuana and devil's dandruff, dice game, host collapses and is put to bed, concerns about running out of booze and cigarettes, they run out, too many taxis arrive, I get offered bed, hear the hostess retire upstairs and start giggling, a little tidying of cheeses, retire myself to find hostess collapsed on landing, 15 minutes of coaxing to get her to lie on bed across host, switch lights off, go find a hidden beer - just to get the edge off.

A little different to the dinner party I had in New York where we turn up (the Lady would only let me bring one bottle), we have to serve ourselves a drink, dinner is prompt, much discussion about the food and the Democrats, Lady tells me not to eat so fast, table is cleared, no more wine is offered (less wine having been poured than was brought to the party), the hostess yawns and slips into pajamas. Had to pop down to Bar & Books just to get the edge off.

TUE 17th FEB: Return to eBay

Caught the tube from the hotel I stayed at Crystal City to DC's Union Station with various government men: lots of rain coats, army fatigues, uniforms. They look at long haired bloke in shiny parker with unease - maybe they knew about what I did on Saturday???

Got back into NYC to go to a meeting for a dating dotcom and they tell us they have no money - but they'll pay us when they IPO. Hmmm, heard that one a few years before. Told the boss to forget about them - he said why - I said if the guy can;t even be hospitable enough to offer us a cup of tea then he's not going to get off his arse to pay us properly. This is my new theory - I have put a column in the new business sales sheet called 'Tea Offered?' - will report progress.

Oh yeah - I get back from work and the Lady says - can I have a look at something she likes on eBay. I click the link to look at some more junk and then notice something. I click another link and find that she's 'watching' 16 items, has bids in for 16 items, has lost 8 items but won 8 other items!! That's 48 different things she's trying to buy in 2 days!! Fck I should have let her buy at the warehouse sale now!!!! She admits she's a junky already. I wonder what the hell she's going to buy whilst I am away for 2 weeks.

MON 16th FEB: DC and GEORGE W

Jumped on the train to Washington DC. Got the station in, Capitol Hill, the Mall (remember famous shot of all the Vietnam protestors behind pond), Washington Memorial, White House (couldn't find the side entrance to the bar), got my pic taken beside Lincoln and saw the Pentagon from a safe distance.

Had dinner with my sister in Alexandria - very quiet place so I dragged my sister afterwards to an Irish Bar: live music, a scary woman ten years older than my sister eyeing up men ten years younger than me, sister referring that she's my new girlfriend.

See the photos of the trip here.

SATURDAY 3rd JANUARY

QUICK UPDATE

Finally woke up - 2645 Miles by Car! And 2000 bucks later! Maybe we should have flown.....

THURSDAY 1st JANUARY 2004

MIAMI ROAD TRIP PART 6: RETURN NORTH

(ROAD TRIP STORY TO BE COMPLETED SOON - COME BACK...)

WEDNESDAY 31st DECEMBER 2003

MIAMI ROAD TRIP PART 5: NYE IN SOUTH BEACH

(ROAD TRIP STORY TO BE COMPLETED SOON - COME BACK....)

TUESDAY 30th DECEMBER 2003

I got up and enjoyed the free coffee and bagels at the Greenview then ‘gently’ pushed the Lady off the bed. We spent the rest of the morning enjoying the glorious sun by the pool in the sister hotel, The Albion then went for wonder. We walked along the the South Beach beach then back inshore.

We walked up the marvellous Meridian Street from 5th Avenue up to Lincoln. A little off the beaten track but it’s full of Art Deco places people live in. Worth a venture!

We had dinner in the glorious Tap Tap restaurant on 5th Street. Haitian food in the most pretty restaurant I can remember. Resident Haitian artists have decorated this place with a celebration of their homelads cultural images. The fish dishes were amazing, the atmosphere simple but relaxed. I’d go every day if I lived there.

The Lady knew a couple of girls who lived in Miami proper and they drove into town to take us to some bars – we were dying to find something away from Ocean Drive. We basically went to New York – they took us the The Room – sister bar to the small comfy chain in New York. It was chilled, relaxed, played good music and was fun.

From there we moved onto Lounge 16 which holds an indie night on Tuesdays. It seemed that the few and all of Miami’s art students and indie kids were hanging out here. First time I felt old in ages though – but I got carded at the bar and with my rum and coke I soon forgot.

MONDAY 29th DECEMBER : MIAMI ROAD TRIP PART 3: THROUGH ST. AUGUSTINE TO SOUTH BEACH MIAMI

I looked out of the window from the Charleston hotel room – it was overcast – perfect for driving the length of Florida. It was also perfect to match The Lady’s health. She’d been throwing up all night and we suspected the tuna before she sent it back for some more cooking.

After squeezing a bit of coffee and water into the Lady, we left a little later than expected just before 11am and took the I17 down to get back onto the I95. As we headed towards the south, we passed dense woodland that would suddenly open up to vast brown swampy ‘fields’ with coal black rivers running through them. The scenery stayed much the same for the rest of South Carolina and Georgia. I loved it, the Lady felt a little queasy....

The drive through Florida lasted an ion. Somehow, you fool yourself that Miami is closer than it actually is. In fact, it is actually at the other end of the state!!

We stopped off at the old town of St Augustine. The highway took us into the heart of the Spanish colonial town and we parked just on the river by the Oldest House (in where?). After a potter around the Lady asked the tourist office where the locals ate. The Tourist Informant was dumbstruck – he didn’t know – certainly not in the centre.

We managed to find a seafood shack the other side of the bridge and ordered a Blue Plate dish (a scheme to encourage old people to eat out between 4 and 6: half the food, half the price – and in this case, half the quality).

Feeling a little queasy myself after the fried shrimp, we got back onto the I95 - We made South Beach by 11pm and found the small, smart art-deco hotel, the Greenview, easily enough. Somehow I mucked up the reservation – they thought I had only booked it for one night and I thought two – but my email reservation slip said one too… damn! They’ll know if there’s a room in the morning.

The next conundrum: do I tell The Lady or do I just hope they tell me we had a room in the morning. All things considered, I chose the lesser pain: I told her. I think she was too tired to react. Thank you, God.

We took a stroll along the busy pedestrians stretch of restaurants on Lincoln Road (very continental) then wandered over to Ocean Drive.

On the way there I couldn’t believe how many art deco buildings there were. And they were beautiful in their bright neon lights. Somehow it worked in Miami.
The hotels on Ocean Drive looked even more spectacular....
but I can’t say much that for the quality of bars – we were transported straight to Cancun or Lanzerote – drunk people going from techno bar to techno bar avoiding sad guitar playing bands and PR girls touting their bars.

The Lady looked at me disappointed and I told her that we’d find some decent bars tomorrow night. We slept well.

PART 2 : PART 4

SUNDAY 28th DECEMBER 2003

MIAMI ROADTRIP PART 2: CHARLESTON

We woke up in South Carolina in a highway motel at 10am. I went to get coffees from the Swap Fox shack – you could tell you were in the south now. It was only 49° but you could feel the sun licking your skin.

The journey along the I95 took us past swamp, some cotton fields and dense woodland. Here and there religious signs reminded you of Christmas – some were more in-your-face. My favourite was: “Wise Men Seek Him - The Offer Stands”.
Many important battles and events during the Civil War happened here in these states and (after a little revision) I would love to return to look out across fields and imagine what happened.

We took the I26 off the highway to the charming and antique town of Charleston. I was amazed to find a town with so many old houses unspoilt ‘by progress’.

The Lady and I checked in at The King Charles Best Western and we hired bikes from a store just north of the hotel on Meeting Street.

I can only describe our cycle as ‘a gay time’. We meandered along the streets looking with delight at all the houses, learning the history from the signs, looking out at Fort Sumter.

That evening we stopped off at a microbrewery bar on East Bay Street then had a fantastic meal at Slightly North of Broad Street. We sat at the chef’s table overlooking the kitchen – I had great steak and The Lady had Tuna that made me cry it was so good (when it came back the second time, when she asked if they could cook it a bit).

The waiter pointed us out to a British bar called ‘The Griffin’ around the corner – good Guinness but empty (he said it would fill up around 1am). We strolled home happy and merry.

SATURDAY 27th DECEMBER 2003

MIAMI ROADTRIP PART 1: PENN TO SC

We left rather late. Later than the 7am we had planned a few days earlier. The Lady wanted to hang with her father – so we agreed to leave at 1pm.

We left just before 2pm and rushed towards Chesapeake Bridge and Tunnel along Interstate 13. Along the road we found rolling irrigation devices 100ft wide towering above mile wide farm fields. Silos formed mountain ranges in the distance.

We travelled from Pennsylvania through Delaware and Maryland. I felt quite at home as I passed Kent, Sussex, Somerset counties but got confused when I noticed signs for Glasgow & Dover.

The sun came down and shone through the woods beside the road. We weren't going to make the bridge in time for sunset. Mile long flotillas of black birds flew across our path as the sky changed to orange. High above passenger jets scratched the sky.

We made the bridge close to 6pm: 19 miles of bridge and tunnel. We looked out at the horizon as we drove alone on the bridge. It was beautiful: Richard Of York Gave Battle In Vain - a narrow band of all the colours of the rainbow stretched up into the sky above the far away land.

The rest stop on the Bridge closed at 6pm - we pulled into a BP gas station on the other side in Virginia Beach and were recommended by a local to try out Chicks Oyster Shack - great seafood, local style - she-crab stew a speciality. We drank a beer at the bar and had a sneaky fag (as we legally could) and immediately felt sleepy.

No matter, from Virginia Beach we took the I58 to the I95 junction at Emporia. We drove on through the dark night -“ keeping up with the 80mph traffic. When we hit North Carolina we took a judgement call - we weren't going to reach Charleston until 3am so we decided to stop the other side of the South Carolina border.

At the border we hit South of the Border. A large trashy service stop / shopping mall / fairground / neon monster. You get signs of South of the Border about 160 miles either side of the stop and Americans told me that you see so many signs that you expect an amazing place - but find it's a shit hole. Well, they never saw it when it was closed - with all the bright lights, it looked fantastic!

PART 2

SATURDAY 29th NOVEMBER : PHILADELPHIA to ATLANTIC CITY

The Lady's father and mother drove us past the gentle skyline of Philadelphia to the red and white glow of Atlantic City on Saturday afternoon. It wasn't quite the triumph of Vegas but I'm sure in the summer it would be quite a good looking place.

We checked out Trump's Taj Mahal and the new Bogarta. At both places the Lady and I argued about whether there was a hiring bias towards Indians and South Eastern Asians respectively. No matter: both races seemed just as adept at taking my cash from me.

As the Lady's father scouted around the poker hall I noticed no-one was smoking. Guys in cowboy hats chewed tobacco, young Harvard types rolled unlit cigars side to side and nervous regular Joes took smoking brakes upstairs near the Slot Machines. It's amazing to think that the effect of the smoking ban in New York and how it's slowly being introduced elsewhere. No smoking when playing cards?? I suppose they used to say 'No smoking when having a drink??'

SAT/SUN 25th/26th OCT : HOT DOG TAIL

Got in a bit fight on Friday night with the Lady after some serious red wine drinking - beginning to wonder whether there is a connection with the stuff and red mist. If so - that won;t make me happy either: red wine is certainly in my top 40 drinks and I don't really want to stop drinking it now - but then again, went loopy so maybe I'll just turn to something easy, umm, like Gin....

So that took me to Philly with my tail between legs thingy.

The Lady actually went down to Phillly on Sat morning and I followed her Sunday
which allowed me to accidentally forget our woes and send off Steve Bonks with some other Brits and Irish in serious style. I actually think I made it close to 'blind drunk' stage. After a few in Von, an Irish bar, and Sweet and something I have no idea what happened after about 11am. Next thing I know it's 4.30am and I
have no money left and I don't know who my new friends are.

Woke up in panic to get a train on Sunday with the worst hangover - at 10.00 (couldn;t let the Lady down). Tore around the apartment drinking Vitamin Water and getting ready. As I was leaving my telephone alarm clock rings to say it'9.30! Fk - the clocks have gone back.

One hour back in bed - I don't recommend kiwi-banana flavour Vitamin Water with a hangover. It doesn't quite go down especially when you're horizontal.

Bought a hangover hot dog(!?) at NYC station but as the train was packed decided it would be rude to eat the smelly thing. As I get off the train at Philly I get on an escalator and expecting to see the Lady in the car park I open the hot dog bag and stuff the sausage in my mouth.

Of course as the escalator rises to the booking hall, the Lady is there glaring at
me with 2 inches of cold sausage hanging out of my mouth. She didn't want a
make up kiss for some reason ... - she looked at the hotdog bun in my hand and asked where the flowers had gone. Sht!

THURSDAY 2nd OCTOBER : THUMB A LIFT TO ROCKAWAY BEACH

Night in on my tod tonight as The Lady is with the girls at one of her friends on West 4th. To be honest I believe they could just put a camera in the corner and tape their conversations for half an hour each week and they'd have a bigger hit than Sex and the City.

Must write about finding work as I don't seam to do enough of it and it's why I write this blog thing. Work situation now becoming a little worry as I have now passed the half way stage of this trip but after several weeks of no meetings, at least things are moving. I had a telephone interview on Monday with a LA company called SnailMail and I have a telephone interview with another company tomorrow at 9am called Digit Impact. Hopefully it won't be a poke in the eye for me (boom, boom). Wish me luck!

I started the preparation for the interview today by going for a relaxing ride down to the end of the A subway line to Rockaway by the seaside. It's all part of my adventure to see every neighbourhood at the end of each subway line (no, not Merton or Brockhurst Hill). I'll put a greater description and pics later.

... Of course I chose the coldest and windiest day since May to amble up the beach on the south side of the peninsula. It was quiet and beautiful and I recommend it to anyone on a sunny Fall day - just me and a few fishermen. I tried to reach the end and kept saying to myself - it must be just round this bend, it would be silly not to go back now. 3 miles up a lone police officer stopped me, shivering (me not him) and asked what I was doing. He told me I was crazy - I had miles to go - and then drove off - didn't even offer me a lift to on the back of his bike.

Mental note - next time trust your memory of the accuracy of subway maps and bring a bicycle/ SUV.

SATURDAY 27th SEPTEMBER : WHAT'S AT STEAK IN PHILLY?

Was going to spend the weekend on my tod to adventure outer NYC but got dragged to Philadelphia by the thought of large portions of middle eastern food.

Did little but sit infront of the TV (what? more that 13 channels - wow) which I think upset the three other women in the house - all I wanted to say was "I didn't want to come did I - make me another cup of tea would, you love". Ahhh - Persian love of tea favors well.

Went out in Philadelphia Saturday night. The area we went to resembled a Spanish Costa Brava resort town. Lots of loud people trailing from bar playing awful music to bar playing awful music. Got turned away for wearing sneakers.. Found the three only trendy people in Philadelphia (sitting on a stoop) and they told me about Novelty :a great bar playing jazz. I don't recommend the Philadelphia Pale Ale - but you have to try the local stuff don't you.

MONDAY 22nd SEPTEMBER : LOS ANGELES VERSUS NEW YORK CITY - ROUND 1

This is how I see the difference between LA and NYC - particulary in terms with people working in the arts/media. Everyone in LA seems to be waiting for their big break (in monkey costumes, waiting tables, auditions etc.) whilst in New York they seem to be working for it (at theaters, internships, art shows etc). The ultimate dream of the LAer is to appear on prime time or a block buster and whilst the New Yorker wants high achievement too - it doesn't mean celebrity.

Comments?

SUNDAY 21st SEPTEMBER : CHINESE UNDERWORLD

I must recommend anyone who goes to Hollywood to visit the famous Chinese cinema there. It is one of the best looking flick-houses I have ever been there. I must recommend that anyone who goes to a cinema does not see 'Underworld' - trash. I can't even be bothered to write about it - makes me wonder why I wrote so much criticism about 'Lost In Translation' when I quite enjoyed it.

Comment below.

Also went to Santa Monica pier - it's little better than Brighton. Not advisable with the hangover Paul was still suffering from Friday night....

SATURDAY 20th SEPTEMBER : BACK FIRE

Andrew finally showed up and, together with Paul, we spent the afternoon on the beach at Santa Monica. We found a British Bar (Ye Olde Kings Head) in the town centre. Ahhh - how refreshing to experience good old British hospitality from the bar staff. Repeating what he thought was my drinks order, the barman sneered at me as if I was an arsehole when I corrected him. I dunno - there's three of us and he thinks he's got to pour four and a half pints and thinks I'm a twat when I correct him. Take me back to cheery loud American bar staff - I'm sorry I transgressed!

Andrew wore a white 'Rogan' T shirt with a smoking pistol coloured with the stars and stripes when we went to see play pool. He got about a dozen comments from people who liked it. Realised later that maybe they liked it for alternative reasons. The cashier at the Pool Hall loved it because it summed up gun culture and the Bowling for Columbine film. The guy outside 'Daddy's Bar' at 2am liked it because he was a gun owner and he was proud of an Americans right to bare arms. We didn't argue - we were desperate to find a place to drink late. No luck - LA closes down at 2am. Probably best thing after Friday night's activities.

SATURDAY 20th SEPTEMBER - AM

LOS HADES DOS

Paul has announced that he spent all his cash for the rest of September last night. He doesn't know why but he can't remember anything after he entered the tittie bar. All I remember of him was that he kept walking back - with very ruffled blonde highlighted hair - from the 'dancing' room at least 5 or 6 times. Fk! He can't remember that!!

Still no news of Andrew.