Day 12 - New York City

Total miles: 0

Route: N/A

By the numbers:
1 - srtipper to fall in love with
4 - minutes the shuttle left early

I decided to catch the later shuttle downtown to ship some of my motorcycle gear. Breakfast sounded good so I head down to the cafe downstairs. The shuttle driver was grabbing coffee and my watch said I had 15 minutes. No problem I thought. The waiter understood my rush and everything was quickly at my table.

I finish as fast as I could and rushed out to the shuttle only to see the tail lights as it drove away. I look at my watch and it says 9:26. I tell the guy outside that its early. "Not according to my watch", he says. I tell him its early and to look at my watch - it's atomic. It's met with a blank stare and I ask if its too late for him to stop them before they leave the parking lot.

He catches one of the drivers and I rush a quarter mile away with my motorcycle suit and boots under my arm. The driver opens the door and says, "You're late". I retort, "You left early, just look at my atomic...nevermind". I have a seat and think about what I want to see today.

A few minutes later and I was on Broadway and 42nd. The UPS shop was just steps away and $50 later my gear was boxed up and on its way back to San Jose. I wander out and staart looking for luggage for my flight home. I check my home to see that I had missed a call. I check my messages and learn that the shipping truck is a few hours away. So much for a 24 hour notice. This threw a wrench in my plans for the day. I hope I make it to see the Brooklyn Bridge.

Coffee sounded good so I stopped at a small cafe across from the Late Show. I call Travelocity to reschedule my flight. Ouch - $330 to move it forward and get a non-middle seat. Ah well...

I decide I should get some food before headed back to the hotel. "Street Meat" sounded good. I walk towards Times Square and find a chicken gyro. Delicious!! I hope I don't regret it.

There's another hour or so before I need to be on a bus, so I head down Madison towards the little park I saw yesterday. The weather was much nicer so the walk was nice.

I have a seat next to a gorgeous woman at the park. It was lunch time but hardly anyone was out yet. We start talking and I realize 30 minutes was quickly gone. It's easy talking with a woman who looks like Jessica Biel. Elizabeth was from St Paul and was as smart as she was good looking - studied in France as well. I had an instant infatuation.

I ask if she had to get back to work and she laughed and said, "I don't work until later this evening". Of course, I ask what she did. My heart sank as I learned that my dream girl is a stripper. Now would be the time to queue J Giels Band 'Angel is a Centerfold" as background music.

Simultaneously, I'm crushed and drawn to my muse now less than an arms length away. An interesting feeling, to be sure. We chat for a bit more and the realization hits me - strippers never share their real information. Too many stalkers out there. I wonder if anything she told me was true. Was she really as interested as it seemed? I've been to enough strip clubs to know better than to think that a stripper really likes me. They only like my wallet.

She invites me to come see her tonight and I make a non-commital comment about making it. She assures me I won't be disappointed. A stripper indeed.

I rush back to my hotel to put all the luggage back on my bike. The shipping truck shows up and we load it up. 15 minutes later my bike is back on its way back to San Jose. I won't be using this company again.

This trip has exhausted me. So I take nap for a bit and rest my feet. I wake up with a jolt and get my head on straight before heading back to the bus stop back into town. I really need some luggage if I'm going to get my crap home tomorrow. Off to negotiate with some touristy shop off of Times Square. I see nothing I want - at least nothing I was willing to pay for.

But all that's on my mind is that stripper. Damn her smooth talk, tight pants and sweet smell. Against my better judgement I head towards Rick's Cabaret.

Now, I don't like strip clubs. They reek of desparation and make me feel bad for the strippers (and humanity). At least in my experience (sorry, Mom). So as I walked in I had a bad feeling about it. But why not? I'm on vacation :-)

I grab a beer at the bar and I'm acosted by every stripper in the place. Interestingly, they too assured me I wouldn't be disappointed. Uncanny, huh? :-) I'm trying not to stare at the great looking half-naked women around me and I get a hug from behind me. Sure enough, Elizabeth is right behind me holding on tightly. Apparently this was a signal to the vultures to back off since they scattered immediately.

She wasn't "dressed" like the rest of the girls. Keep in mind, it wasn't something you wear to church but it wasn't the usual uniform. Classy - if that's possible in this joint. I'm smitten. With a stripper. Why am I here? What was I expecting? What am I thinking? Well, she answered those questions a few moments later. And she was right - I wasn't disappointed.

Time passed quickly and I'm headed out to get cheap luggage and make sure I catch the shuttle on-time. But, before I can get to the door, Elizabeth grabs me, hugs me tightly, and kisses me on the cheek. I was hoping to quietly escape and put all this behind me but she made sure I won't soon forget the stripper I met in Madison Square Park. The background music at this point should be "Private Dancer" by Tina Turner.

I now have 30 minutes to settle on some crappy luggage and get a very quick bite to eat. Pizza sounded good and I hadn't had a real "pie" since being in NYC. And boy do they know how to do a meat-lovers pizza. Yum!

I find some crappy tourist joint with $30 luggage and I talked him down to $22. Knowing the shuttle might show up early (again), I hustle to the rendezvous point.

I hadn't been at the bus stop long enough to put my headphones back on when it pulled up. Its packed and I end up next to a Brazillian woman and an old couple from Bathe UK. Nice folks.

I'm glad to be back in the hotel - I'm beat and my feet hurt. I'm going to bed.