NYC with nowhere to go

January 1, 2010

Salam was from Bangladesh. He has lived in this city since 1982, and he has owned a home on Long Island since 1990. He doesn’t spend all of his time driving for a car service; it just helps him make ends meet when the label industry is slow. When I think of recessions, it is easy to imagine the automakers and construction industry struggling. But the label industry. Who knew?

Salam gave me a ride to my new, temporary residence after what became a long day of traveling. Most people try to avoid layovers, and I would say I aim for an hour at the most between legs. Never before, in all my travels, have I had a layover in the airport of my final destination. Dan got stranded in Florida, so he was not around to meet me at the apartment, and Alan works during the day. So I arrived at 2PM with 2 full bags rolling off the carousel. Alan was to get off at 5PM, so I had several options. Treking across New York city with all of my luggage to pick up the key was the first (and that was out). FInding my way to the apartment and sitting outside was another. Also out of the question, given the snow I would later find in Brooklyn. The other was to wait it out in the airport.

So, I looked at it as a layover and dug in. Finding a warm spot upstairs near Delta’s ticketing desks, I sat and read, did some writing, ate a snack and waited for Alan to get off. Twitter was subsequently informed that I was “so dry” about 2 hours in. I realized how dried out you can get just by sitting in a heated environment. Drinking water has always been important for me, and up here the need to hydrate is magnified. I was stranded outside the concourse with no water fountains though, so I spent about 15 minutes searching through broken vending machines, at an under-stocked Dunkin Donuts and a Starbucks. Fortunately Starbucks pulled through.

Salam met me outside as I left the baggage claim area for the last time; noting there had been a long line forming at the taxi line, I gauged the amount of time it would take to secure one and travel the 10 miles between me and my new dwelling. He offered to take me there for $45, which would be a little more than the cost of a cab but would get me there sooner. At that point my will to save money at the sacrifice of convenience was wearing thin, so I followed him. He operates a car service, as I said before, and for those of you who are not familiar with them, they are subtly different from cabs. They generally drive black cars (that are nicer than a yellow cab, but often the same model), and they will pick you up at a specific time from anywhere you want (usually what a concierge would do for you with a cab company). I highly recommend a car service for airport travel. It really is worth it. We walked to his Lincoln Navigator and he hoisted my bags into the trunk. With a nod to the attendant, we whisked by a long line of people waiting for transportation. Along the way, we talked about the city and his family. He told me he loved it here. I asked him questions and tried to understand him through his thick accent. Our route brought us through Williamsburg, known to some as the hipster capital of the world. The section we crossed is actually an orthodox Jewish neighborhood. I had never seen anything like it. Men, women and children walking in painfully straight lines, their traditional coats and hats lending a part of each individual to their culture, springing from their religious fervor. It was a wonderful site and much needed at that time in my day. It was in that car ride that my heart filled with the excitement of living in this place once more, a feeling that I have had for so many years.

After a few minutes, I saw Alan walking down Dean Street toward me. My tired eyes failing in the cold determined it was he by his gait. It is great to be reunited with a good friend. I can not wait to see Sarah and Scott. Now to a weekend with no thought of working at church, and my first week of job hunting.