Turning and Churning

AHHH. I'm back on the comfortable cream carpet in Meagan's NJ home all spread out like a man who's fallen from the sky; I don't intend to make any heavenly inferences there...I'll admit I'm quite the opposite.

Despite only having spent the past 4 days in NYC, I've started to develop an affinity for the place. Before this trip, I would probably have felt it apt to produce the same static comparison of NYC to London. Of course, it would always have entailed a pro-London/anti NYC bias; 'there isn't that much ethnic diversity', 'it's not as relaxed', 'the excessively high buildings makes the place impersonal'...etc etc etc. But this time round, I'm more able to appreciate strong things NY has got going for it.

I love how friendly the people are. How you don't feel stupid whilst asking people for directions or merely commenting on the heatwave. Compared to Knightsbridge, 5th Avenue is not filled exclusively with tourists and those upper-middle class plus somethings who grasp their Louis Vuitton bags, exaggerate their shoulder movements as they walk and questionably have an unpalatable obsession with creamy shades of secondary colours. 

To invoke a cliche, the city has a real vibe about it. There was a real anticipation imprinted onto my face as me and the others walked from block to block looking for restaurants and bars. It was like a beautiful but simplified maze; no nasty shocks, no minotaur and certainly no need to have a piece of string tying me back to the place I started.

And this fresh attitude towards New York was buttressed with several days of drinking...I can assert without doubt that one can bond best with something/someone through drink. For my own legal protection, I will now enter a clause 'Please drink responsibly however'. There, I can't be sued now. But srsly, I have to say I haven't drank 3 days in a row since Freshers week. Ohh the nostalgia.

So last night, me, Meagan and Freddie stayed in a gorgeous apartment on the Upper East Side in Manhattan. The living room had high ceilings with no decorative detail defining it except for a varnished fan attached to it. An Indonesian table supported by these stone wolves and wall-mounted African face masks delight all whose attention they capture. But I lost my attention once I took a gin and tonic to my lips at 8pm. The witty Adam Dalva had just arrived at that point and Sofia (owner of this gorgeous flat) offered drinks within a Manhattan minute of his arrival. More people arrived and more drinking ensued, I had hopes at the start of the evening that the nasty 1.75 litre bottle of Bacardi, from the previous night, might actually be finished (this turned out to be a forlorn hope and to the best of my knowledge now, I believe it still lies unfinished on an oak phone table).

I have to say the night really started to turn once we began playing a drinking card game. 

2 is for you

3 is for me

4 is for floor

5 is for guys

6 is for chicks

7 is for heaven

8 is for mates

9 is for rhyme

10 is for category

Jack is for make a rule

Queen is for question

King is for pouring into the 'glass of  shit' (as i slurred last night)

To my horror, I selected the last King to everyone's cheer and delight. I took a sip and Adam was such a gentleman in offering to help me finish it. I could barely stomach the first sip and as Adam handed it back to me for a second sip, I felt a small tempest manifest itself in my stomach and mish mash the delicious chips I had eaten before playing the game and the concoction of gin and vodka. I discreetly proceeded to throw up in my mouth, but my oesophagus demanded to remove more from my stomach and 5 seconds after that fateful 2nd sip, I found myself carrying a full load of material in my mouth. I ran like 3 muffins to the toilet as everyone went 'HOOHHHHH' and I deposited my load with great accuracy, into the pits of the toilet bowl. Stayed posted for the video on Facebook, I'm pretty sure Meagan will be putting it up at some point for purposes of reinforcing my dignity.

We resumed the game and Freddie continued to attack a bottle of rum for which he paid the price for in the afternoon (we only slept at 4.30am);dragging his sluggish body through the Whitney Museum and bemoaning his inability to focus.

God Bless New York. Post-prohibition laws never stood a chance with us determined drinkers.

The Heart Demands Pleasure

Proud flags perched carefully on the front of houses.

Meticulously trimmed bright green hedges.

Swarms of 4x4 vehicles meandering their way from home to outdoor malls on the widest roads.

A slight obsession with Motorola flip phones.

Of course, people who know that I've fled the London scene, will know it's the USA brief I'm describing above.

The journey so far has been a nice mix of sedated suburban life and a potent cocktail of alcohol and ADHD based shenanigans.

Saturday was pretty relaxed; I arrived in Philly circa 2.45pm and faced a barrage of questions, dipped in a 'I've just had a heavy late lunch' breath, by the Homeland Security border control officer sporting a maroon brown shirt and thick framed glasses. And the Answers of which I provided, I wanted to elaborate to do them justice but was obviously constrained by the possibility of being deported.

The Boring Answers:

"What is your full name" - "Adrian Yiu Hung Fan"

"How did you get to know your friend?" - "We met whilst she was on a term-abroad scheme at my university in London"

"Why are you here?" - "She goes to Swarthmore College"

The Heart-felt Answers:

"What is your full name" - "Adrian Yiu Hung Fan. And tonight Matthew, I'm going to be, Celine Dion"

"How did you get to know your friend?" - "We met in ULU whilst I was drunk and stoned because I thought I was being offered a cigarette which clearly wasn't the case in Freshers Week. She kept calling me Alvin and I said to her I was going to attack her vigorously if she didn't stop miscalling me"

As for "Why are you here?" - "I don't really know my purpose as of yet. I'm just 19 y/o and finished what can be summed up as an emotionally tumultuous 2nd year at school. All I know is that I have a penchant for being cynical, un-pc and trying to self-improve in a world as such.

After being approved for entry and collecting my bags, I paced myself to the arrivals area where I found Meagan and Freddie clinging to the chrome rail in anticipation and it was nice to feel the warmth of their smiles on my face. As I hugged Meagan, we were both making ridiculous noises...I think it resembled something like a chipmunk being drowned in a huge swamp of bubbles. Of course, mine and Freddie's embrace was less symbolic as I'd seen him the Sunday before as he was slurring his words and oblivious to the fact my flatmate Jo was on the sofa wearing a bright green SOAS hoodie.

They say you can never find happiness when you search for it, but I came over to see Meagan and this happiness I feel with me, her and Freddie being in the same place is precious. As Jon Lo described us, we're a very animated 'television show'.