The theme of today is headaches. It might be the early start. It might be the cabin pressure on the flight. Or possibly, just possibly, it might be food poisoning. E and I have tandem headaches. For me it's quite debilitating. For E, the trooper, it's a mild hindrance, though I have no doubt we're suffering the same things. She does a much better job of minding S than I do who, thankfully, doesn't seem to have any symptoms of anything bad. I am a little bit pathetic.
The plane from Nashville to New York is the smallest I have ever been on. My head grazes the ceiling as I walk down it. And the seating is just four across so I find myself separated from E and S by an aisle. This, however, falls neatly into my favour as I can doze and wallow in my head pain. The two of them doze too though so I'm not entirely shirking my responsibilities. Then the guy in front leans his seat back and for a moment, my knee is trapped and I am woken. I hate him. There are two types of people in the world: those who lean their seats back on aeroplanes and those who do not. One is despicable, the other is not. It's amazing how many people crave that extra inch of comfort, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it causes about a foot of discomfort directly behind them. Those buttons on the seat arms that let you lean back should be abolished.
As soon as we get out of the airport in New York, some woman is hassling us to get in her car. She says she's an Uber driver and talks fast, says we can pay by credit card but we have to hurry. It's almost laughable. We ask to see ID and say we've been quoted a rate into Brooklyn of about half what she's demanding (which is not strictly true but almost) at which point she sort of gives up on us, gets in her car and drives off. A few years ago we'd have been suckered into that kind of move. But already the friendly, smaller town America we've become used to over the last few weeks seems a long way from here.
We yellow cab it to our Air BnB accommodation and sure enough, the fare's fair. Madison, our host for the next few nights, greets us and shows us in. On Thursday, S will turn 3 and Madison knows that because she and E have sort of hit it off over text since we booked to stay here. As such, we walk in to find helium balloons, a birthday banner, party hats, a cake and a stash of other party food. It's so incredibly kind and E can't help but give Madison a great big hug. The flat itself is lovely too. We're going to be very happy here.
Heads pounding, E and I lie down and park S in front of the TV which is heaven for her, if not the most solid parenting. I'm not sure I manage a nap but roll around with my hand on my head for a good while before opting for a piping hot bath. That normally sorts me out.
Then we venture out into Brooklyn to get some food for dinner. Our stretch is fine, but round the block it's not the most gorgeous neighbourhood. Nobody looks like they've landed on their feet and everyone's rushing around. The people who aren't rushing look unhinged. In the supermarket, the cashier is miserable. I mean that, not only is she not nice, but she looks like deep in her soul, she is terribly unhappy. For a moment, she makes me feel miserable too. When I wish her a good day at the end of our transaction, it's the first time in two and a half weeks that I haven't meant it.
I'm so glad we've experienced those parts of America where people have been more relaxed, had more time, been more smalltown. Yes Boston and Nashville are cities and both had their weird and rundown bits, but generally what I saw of those places was somehow...better. Maybe it's the size of the city. Maybe New York is too big a place for people to care too much about one another; too much going on, too many pressures. But it's no different from any of the big cities back home. I've been to New York a couple of times before but not for ten years and I do love it. I'm just glad that I now know there's so much more to America.
Anyway. Something out there must have done me good because as I'm writing this, my headache is gone. I am shattered though and have tha nice drowsy feeling you get when you overcome a hangover and can legitimately go to bed feeling okay. Oh. What if this was a hangover?? One beer?? Naaah. Surely not...
A few closers about Nasvhille:
I didn't buy a guitar.
I didn't buy a Stetson.
Nobody stole our passports. Boo.
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