New York day 2

The next day was going to be a pretty busy one for me, so I got up early and headed out around 8. Unfortunately I hadn't had the best night's sleep - New York is crazy loud at night and drivers honk their horns way too much for it to be meaningful in any way, which ultimately just makes them honk longer and, somehow possibly, louder. Round the corner from my hotel lived the neighbours from hell: Engine 54, Ladder 4, Battalion 5. Four or five times during the night the fire engines were called out, and seemed to do nothing but sit in traffic with their sirens going non-stop right outside my window. New York firefighters have been held up as incredible inspirational heroes for the last 12 years, and with good reason, but to me that night they were just bastards.

Hot dogs are easy to come by in New York, and there aren't many things that feel as authentically American as picking one up from a street vendor. I was anticipating something awesome, the best hot dog I'd ever had perhaps, but a New York hot dog is just as plain, small and disappointing as a UK one. That was gone within 20 seconds and I promised myself something a bit more substantial once I'd ticked the first thing off my sightseeing list, which was a thing I had definitely been looking forward to.

30 Rockefeller Plaza is a 70 storey art deco slab that stands as the centrepiece of the Rockerfeller Center. It has the second highest Observation Deck in New York and was the setting for the famous Lunchtime Atop A Skyscraper photograph, often incorrectly attributed (possibly just by me) to the construction of the Empire State Building. Side on, there doesn't seem anything remarkable or characteristically recognisable about its blankly monolithic form, but standing end-on to it from the plaza shows off its strikingly slender, tiered art deco architecture. The art deco styling continues inside the Mezzanine area, all dark sculpted pillars and moody marble, totally different to the bright, optimistic atmosphere you might expect if you've ever seen an episode of 30 Rock.

30 Rockefeller Plaza

The elevator makes the 70 storey trip up to the Observation Deck in around about 30 seconds, and the clear ceiling gives both an exciting and unsettling view of the elevator shaft as you're launched skywards, watching the blue LED lights marking each level whip past at frightening speed. At the top, on the 70th floor, you can see the entire length of Manhattan from either side of the Observation Deck, and, if you're a total nutcase, down to some of the rooftops below. Thankfully, due to the plexiglass barriers that keep you a little back from the edge and the gothic gargoyles that block the view, you can't see straight down the 850 feet to the street below. Otherwise some poor hapless pedestrian would've been getting a faceful of vomit.

It may not be as famous as the observation deck of the Empire State Building, but then you can't see the Empire State Building from the Empire State Building, and so 30 Rock probably gives you the best, most iconic view of the city. And, as I had arrived at opening time, there were very few people up there so I could take my time and enjoy a totally unobstructed view of every part of the city. I asked a lady to take a picture of me in front of the skyline, but she inexplicably decided that the Empire State Building looks best with me blocking it. I spent about 40 minutes up there before I started to freak out about being up so high and decided to head down. Back to the Mezzanine level, I went to the Potbelly Sandwich Shop (definitely somewhere Liz Lemon frequents) and sat munching my roll in the plaza before heading off to the next thing on my checklist.

My sandwich view

Apparently he doesn't work there :(

Ellis Island, home to the former immigration station of New York, is still closed due to the damage it sustained during Hurricane Sandy, which is unfortunately something I really wanted to visit. Thankfully Liberty Island has reopened, so at least I was able to take the ferry and visit the statue. It is incredibly striking up close and, if you listen to the immigrant testimonials and ignore the rest of the simperingly dramatic content on the audio tour, is quite an emotional experience. Afterwards I hung out in a bar in Battery Park for a while, enjoying the sun and a couple of pints of some local IPA. Another emotional experience.

New York

It's one thing to book a flight, but it's a totally different thing to actually get on the bloody thing. What on earth have I got myself in for? was all I could think; I had thought about going to America for a while, but a little common sense and quite a lot of fear had prevented me from seriously contemplating it and actually getting organised. Unfortunately that didn't seem so much of a factor after half a dozen pints one night, and as the haze cleared the next day, it became harder and harder to convince myself that I hadn't actually booked a flight, hotel and hire car. I would've been impressed with how organised and thorough I had been after all that beer if I wasn't concerned that I was now in a massive amount of trouble.

To make things easier, rather than spending the day before my flight sorting out my luggage and all the last minute details, I sat in the pub with my friend Ciaran for over 7 hours instead. Stupid perhaps, but it actually did make things easier; instead of being terrified about spending nearly a month alone in a country half way around the world and worrying about all the things I could have forgotten to pack, I was tired and grumpy instead and was more interested in just getting the airport palaver and flight over with rather than dwelling on what was to come. How on earth I ever manage to enjoy myself, I don't know.

Getting into the city from JFK airport wasn't all that hard and finding my hotel was pretty easy as well as it was just off Times Square, a place so loud and busy and blindingly-bright that you can probably see it from space. It was late in the afternoon by the time I got there and I was far too dazed after the 8 hour flight to consider doing any sight seeing, but I got to meet up with my lovely friend Caroline who was working in New York that week for a burger. By which I mean we met for a burger, not that she was being paid in burger. Although it was a pretty nice burger. We sat outside Shake Shack in Madison Square Park while we ate, watching the sunlight thicken and glow on the buildings opposite as the sun began to set and the evening rolled in. I was absolutely knackered after a pretty bad night's sleep, an early morning and a plane journey, so unfortunately my contribution to the conversation wasn't particularly scintillating, but it was nice to see a familiar face all the same. Knowing before I left England that I was going to meet up with her made a huge difference, as I knew it was going to help ease me into the trip rather than dump me right in the deep end alone and made the entire prospect far less daunting. Thanks Caroline, you're a champ.

Times Square

Big building

I realised pretty soon, after we went our separate ways, that I would have had nothing to worry about even if I hadn't got to meet up with Caroline; New York is nowhere near as vastly imposing and terrifying as I had expected and, although I won't go as far as to say I felt like I belonged, there wasn't one moment when I felt like I didn't belong. After a life saturated with American culture, every part of New York felt familiar to me and the friendliness I experienced made me feel more comfortable there than in any other city I've visited for a first time. And the street grid system makes it almost impossible to get lost, which is a good thing if you're trying to not look like a tourist.

I was struggling with the jetlag that night, but forced myself to go out until it was more of a respectable bed time in the hope that I would adjust to the time difference as soon as possible. I went to a place called Latitude round the corner from my hotel, which was actually a bar and grill, not a hooligan club like the name suggests. It was there, watching the Pittsburgh Steelers play Cincinnati, that I met Mike. He works for Standard Chartered in California and was in New York on business. We talked a lot about New York, London, American football and real football. A drink turned into several and my sensible bed time was well gone when we finally decided to leave the bar at half 12 and go our separate ways. Mike was a nice guy.