Thursday, June 12, 2008

New York, 20 Questions, Pink Punk Rockers and Philmore the Jet Dog

I flew back to New York today and am safely and soundly esconced in the bosom of a huge bed in Nyack.

It was a heck of trip not least as I had to catch three buses to get from Ormond Beach to Edgewater some 30 miles away which took in the grimy underbelly of Daytona and as one who knows it well told me, "Daytona can best be described as a seedy, smelly used car salesman."

Whiling away the two hour flight, my fellow traveller Patsy from Lake County engaged in 20 questions as we swapped war stories. Patsy is a disgustingly mature lady and yet another living proof that Floridians age well and has a wicked sense of disgraceful mischief if the pink hair and Philmore, her ten month toy dog with a spiked collar and punk rocker motif going have anything to say. As a school teacher, I have no doubts that Patsy has more war stories of gore and mayhem than Oliver North.

I frequently invite my fellow passengers to engage in conversation as sitting quietly next to a complete stranger for a few hours in a plane just strikes me as distendedly uncomfortable. Patsy and I played the 20 questions game - you ask a question about me and vice versa, which gave me a lot of information on what is going on in Patsy's life - recently divorced, musician daughter in New York, called Emily (spooky), she likes beer (how can this woman be single?), teachers in Florida make less than a bus driver in London and so on. Needless to say there was a geat deal of discursive sidetracking but listening to people and their stories is fascinating. Forget in flight movies just insist that passengers talk to one another. The trip ended far too soon as I enjoyed the banter and badinage immensely, not to mention the desperate need that overtook Patsy to find the restrooms while we ended up waiting for an eternity to get to the gate after we landed.

That eternal conundrum, do I go now but the seatbelt sign is still on and everyone is looking or hold on until later?

Patsy: I trust the restroom "experience" was just what the doctor ordered ;)

Tomorrow I'm back into New York city with Sylvia Welch on a mission to raise the odd couple of million dollars; even better I'm driving so New York move over, I learned to drive in London. Sylvia is a grant writer, fund raiser and altruistic soul who can drink me under the table, is more than a match for my wit and game enough for me to practice my worn out dance moves on.

Lovely lady.

Jill is taking me to see the first Frozenheart House in the US which is on a compound on the Hudson River a few miles away and then we have to work out how it is going to be financed and who is doing the renovations. Finally, I have been promised an evening in Nyack which is something I have not yet sampled but would love to as it all looks pretty neat with cafe society and music galore for my two left feet made of concrete.

Friday morning sees me getting the bird for the hop back to the UK and hopefully Sunday roast with all the trimmings, Max and Dizzy and the mutts ....not to mention the coolest cat in the universe, Oscar.

Can't wait.

1 comment:

Heather Rainbow said...

I used to live in Daytona. At the time... 98 - 99, it was a mass of drug addicts / dealers and prostitutes. At that time, Volusia County, was the poorest county in the nation.

Florida education SUCKS! All you need is an Associates Degree (in anything) to teach even at University level.