Islands of The York

"Let's go on the Staten Island Ferry. It's free."
"What happens in Staten Island?"
"Nothing. But the ferry is free."
"Hey? ....Ok, Cool.Let's go."

.....I apologise to all people who caught last night's 8pm ferry from Staten Island to Manhattan. Yes, I was the chick dancing up an African storm in the MIDDLE of the ferry station, to the guy's boombox music, while my mate decided to become best friends with Oscar (De La Rente or something) and any other poor sucker willing to even look in our direction. And then five of us - one Norwegian (who I blame for everything), one ex, me, one Oscar, and a Mexican ran chaos around the ferry, for some reason conversing mainly in French. And Spanish - Loquito (I know how to spell this only because it is still penned onto my hand)

Who knew Staten Island, land of the biggest landfill, could be so much fun! I would blame Steve the Fireman, for setting us on course to that yokel pub, after we ploughed him with beer for his NYC stories on the ferry ride there. Most incredible view of Manhattan by the way!!! (With photos involving us feeding Ms Liberty Heinken). But right now I am blaming the Norwegian for EVERYTHING. She never minds. She is used to it. All I know is I owe Cinderella, the nurse, cds of African photos and music for her school kids, and the local pub drunkard thinks I am the hottest thing since... since....well, all he has is a landfill as a standard.

All that New Yorkers know of S.Africans right now is that some poor SA girl was killed by her boyfriend in their city recently, in a Crime of Passion. Her dad is a white professor at a uni here, and her mom is black. Which always just opens up a can of fascinating worms for convos for me.... Even when buying a NY cap at 9pm somewhere off Wall Street, while watching some building burn, and unable to hail a cab without flashing someone - what happens when there is a fire next door to Ground Zero.

AND, how many damn finance people does that town really hold?!?!?! All people met were either ex-cab drivers or traders. Really. Could you lot not spice up your professions! There in the bar where they apparently filmed COCKTAIL and where the Justin Timberlake barman believes that free jagerbombs will make his SA & Norwegian customer chicks happy. (I ain't happy now, Irish!) With Jeff the Trader who landed an earful from me because his job is to play the global oil stocks.

Am I making sense? I no longer know. I have just had one STRESSFUL travel day. After waking up unsoberly in Brooklyn, to catch the five hour flight to San Fran, and realising when I arrived that I lost all relevant information to know where to go in this crazy sunny-then-foggy-then-over eccentric-too hilly-gorgeous town. I can't wait to explore it!! I have already witnessed a man playing jazz on an electric guitar on a Sunday evening down a bar counter in the oldest pub.

So let me finish this wine and be off to my basement bed...

Just thought I'd catch up.

Smooches.