nyc day 1: madam butterfly.

As this entry suggests I am trying to blog NYC as I go because I don't tend to remember small details. After a magnificently restless 3 hours sleep I found myself at Heathrow Terminal 3 with Keely, and following a worryingly easy check-in, discussed how being in America was definitely going to exaggerate our own accents.

I've never been to the States before and previously my longest flight was a mere 4 hours. I don't think 7 hours has ever gone so fast in my life. Virgin Atlantic was entirely impressive with inflight entertainment, and while lacking in Sherlock, I watched Submarine (Richard Ayoade's directorial debut) with that boy from Tracy Beaker and it's just another of those teen films that you find something to relate to.



Hours later in NYC and 5 hours in the past, through immigration and having found my luggage, a heavy wall of humidity awaited. The first lady we spoke to in the airport calmly told us about a tornado warning (excuse you WHAT, WE ARE ENGLISH, WE DON'T DO TORNADOS) and gossiped about the Royals. Because of course we all know the Royals and dine with them frequently.

On our airport shuttle through the city to Manhattan, it took me all of five minutes to feel entirely consumed. Having only experienced 'The' NYC through pixelated screens and second-hand conversation, I knew perfectly well that while the language barrier may be lessened, culturally, England and America are no even close on the spectrum. For a week no more red telephone boxes or chippys, no more zebra crossings, winding side streets and small alley ways. No, New York is beyond gigantic. The portion sizes, buildings and street widths are off my small English scale. Wide streets tightly packed and endless use of the car horn. Give me another week to be fully digested before I return.



My first retail customer service experience in Walgreens was less than satisfactory. I did the typical Brit thing of standing there patiently taking it, all the while inwardly huffing about how in England this wouldn't happen because you'd get your arse complained about and instantly fired. Is this something I should get used to? On the upside, England may not sell coca-cola vanilla but over here it lives strong, and I shall get through more Reeces peanut butter cups this week than I should admit.