Odd Man Out

I left for New York—yes New York—as my first stop on my trip. I remember the excitement I felt on that day. There’s something about traveling on one of these long trips that is impossible to describe. It’s like standing at the edge of some vast ocean preparing to sail into it. Even the shyest heart will be swept up in its currents.

My hotel was directly over “Ground Zero,” and I couldn’t help but think of the significance of that site to me personally. As a younger man, I began a trip in a world that still embraced the innocence of the “Pre-911” mentality. Three days into that trip, the world was turned upside down, and immediately the Dog’s of War were set loose. I watched the world change from within Europe and the Middle East during that first trip. I saw the fear slowly creep into people’s eyes as they searched every horizon for an unknown and invisible enemy.

In my hotel room on November 18, 2006, I stared down at the empty hole that marked the footprint of those two towers, the “Twin Towers.” The world is a much different place now—a fact of life I guess. But rather than focus on the fingerprints of evil in this world, I decided to make my way out into the city. One night in New York is worth ten in most other places.

I went out and grabbed dinner at this Italian restaurant called Roc.

190 Duane St (Cross Street: Greenwich Street)

New York, NY 10013 View Map

(212) 625-3333

The food was good and the place itself had a great atmosphere. Not really a good place to meet people, but a great place to have dinner with your friends.

The next morning (yeah you don’t get all the details, sorry. . . anonymity is no substitute for humility) I got up and headed out for Newark International Airport—they should seriously consider renaming it “the Armpit” because that’s where you feel like you are. (Sorry to the New Jerseyers out there. . . but the parts of New Jersey I’ve seen are no “Garden”).

The ride over was the best—and I’m being very serious—shuttle rides to the airport I’ve ever experienced. The first person in the shuttle was a pretty leggy blonde model/singer (aren’t they all) who was heading out west to be with her family. She told me about how she had just signed a record deal, and was preparing to head out on a promotional tour of her band’s new album (I’ll post their info soon).

The next person to hop in was an artist that resembled Shirley Maclaine. She had spent years in exotic places like Morocco and Africa living and painting what she saw. On this particular trip she was on her way to New Zealand to visit a friend.

Next we picked up was a stylist/photographer from Los Angeles. Sweetest woman from LA I’ve met in a while. She told me about her trip to New York and how she was thinking about leaving LA to come to New York to work on Broadway.

Two or three other people hopped in, one from Austria, another couple heading to Vegas. . .

This first “real” day of my trip introduced me to so many other travelers. I realized that as hard and distant as people may seem, there is always a desire to connect in new ways to new people—for some that requires a new perspective that only a shift in geography can bring about.
Each description is, of course, only a snapshot, but these are the snapshots of people and places I’ve been to, and, which are dear to me. Not because my trip changed me forever—although I believe every experience changes us, even if the change is imperceptible to ourselves—but because this is the story of my life. Whether anyone reads it or not is not important to me, what is important is that it is written. . .

posted by RezB @ 6:33 PM