en route, again \09.03\

en route, again \09.03\

Posted by Lauren at 6:40 PM ✪ No comment yet

My actual travel went surprisingly smooth.  Caught a cab to the Blue Line, only had to wait four minutes for a train, five minutes in the security line, took off on time, and landed early.  I even managed to get to my hotel for $5 cheaper when the cabbie decided to take the Williamburg Bridge instead of the Midtown tunnel.  Came in the back door and missed some traffic.

Pretty quickly after checking into my hotel room, which is somehow even smaller than the one I had in the same hotel last week, things started to get strange.  I unpacked and arranged some things around my temporary home, then decided to head out for some wandering.

As soon as I walked out the front door, some sensation drew my attention to my left index finger.  It hurt.  The I realized it was swollen...and turn black and blue.  I started wondering what bit me, because I hadn't hit it, slammed it or tweaked it.  So I rushed back upstairs and scrambled to hunt down an ice machine.

I don't quite remember, but I'm guessing it was somewhere around that point when anxiety starting setting it.  After twenty minutes of icing, I figured it was time to go about my original plan and headed out.  Only, as I walked up 6th Avenue, I felt like my mind and body were detached, unfocused.

Although I wasn't particularly hungry or thirsty, nutrition and hydration were my best guesses to resolve the rather disorienting state.  Duane Reade provided a luxurious bagel and string cheese lunch.  Since I wasn't willing to admit defeat just yet, I nabbed a park bench and tried to convince myself to eat.

Apparently I was being watched, by a kid in his early twenties who had previously been catnapping on another bench.  He approached me awkwardly, said "hi", and proceeded to just stare at me.  I said "hi" and waited.  Then he said his name and stared again.  I responded with "Ok" and waited some more.  I wasn't in the mood.

From there he started rambling, and maybe it was just my state of mind, but half of it sounded like nonsense.  At one point he told me that we're all youthful inside.  Then he was telling me about the beauty of the leaves and grass, which segued into him asking me if I'd like to lay in the park and look at them with him.  I politely declined, telling him I didn't feel well and was going to my hotel.

Since then, I've spent most of my time resting in this king-size bed, only seeing the city through my window.  I suppose I'll be here many more days though, and I have a first day of work to report to in the morning, so I'd rather not press my luck.