So now I’ve relocated to Washington, I get to visit the Big Rotten Apple to meet with the Dish team and friends on a regular basis. My last two trips were classic NYC hell. The first was a new hotel I booked into a few weeks ago. There was no available room when I got there at 6.30 pm forcing me to wait half an hour in the lobby; the thermostat didn’t work, repeatedly, so the room was stifling; on my first night, I was awakened at 4.30 am by a fire alarm; on my second night, I was awakened at 8.30 am by a power-drill in the next door room. At which point, I bailed. Oh, and I left behind my best pair of shoes in my room, which, of course, the hotel never found. There are far, far better hotels in Cedar Rapids at one fifth of the price.
So this time, we booked an airbnb in Brooklyn.
Why not see if the amateurs are better than the incompetent pros? But it was classic NYC. The cab driver took me twenty blocks in the wrong direction and my only hope was Google Maps. After directing the cabbie, I arrived to find the loft oppressively hot, and with no air-conditioning (despite its listing). It also had no drapes or shades so I was woken woken up at dawn today, and then, after trying to get back to sleep, by pneumatic drilling at a vast construction site next door. All in all: five hours sleep. If I’m cranky today, you know why. So I’m moving to a generic chain hotel today. Wish me luck, as I struggle with the shitty wifi that is another of this city’s memorials to the 20th Century.
Walking around Williamsburg last night, I was also reminded of one of the unique charms of NYC in the summer: vast piles of rotting garbage piled on the sidewalks, with that sweet yet nauseating smell of decomposing groceries sitting in the humid fetid air, and rancid food juices oozing over the sticky sidewalks. With my windows open to counter the stuffiness, I could occasionally catch a whiff of the stench outside.
People actually like living in this chaotic, fetid monument to incompetence? Beats me.