We decided to take Megabus again since it was a relatively painless experience in June. The prices were a little steeper, since more people had found out about the service.
When I got to the bus Friday afternoon, I was pretty excited because the bus was a pimped-out double decker. It looked pretty new, although I recognized the same driver from my first Megabus trip. I was tempted to venture up to the top level, but I opted to sit on the bottom in the seat right behind the driver so as to save my knee a little aggravation.
The journey began smoothly, leaving DC on time. I realized that I had forgotten to charge my iPod and that its battery was completely dead, but I figured I'd live. As in June, the bus took about an hour longer than it should have getting to Baltimore to pick up Diane, but I guess you have to give them a break for Friday traffic.
It was good to see and catch up with Diane, and the bus was rolling along. All of a sudden, however, there was a lurch, as if the motor was stalling, and then the bus completely stopped. In the middle of I95 in the middle of Delaware.
Remember how cool the double decker had seemed? Well apparently it was a new, completely computerized bus. Also the driver's first time out on one of these buses. And the computer was dead and there was no manual override that he knew of and so we were just hanging out in the middle of the interstate. He's frantically flipping a lot of switches and calling Megabus on his cell phone. That seat I chose right behind the driver affords me and Diane a front row seat for all of the action (also the bottom level was blessedly cooler than the upper level once the power and the a/c shut off).
People start to get antsy. I'm the kind of person who sits back and analyzes things (although I really don't speak up a lot of times that I should), and other kinds of people feel like they have to get up and run their mouth as though harassing the driver is going to accomplish things. Turns out that people are upset because they have made plans for 10:15...the time that the bus was due to arrive. Fools.
Shortly after the incident:
Now, please don't think I have much sympathy for the driver, who was completely incompetent. I also have no sympathy for Megabus, who appeared to have no backup plan for the bus breaking down, at least on a Friday night when their best and brightest were probably off duty. The driver said he was calling the police shortly after we broke down, but somehow I doubt this story, as the bus was just stopped in the middle lane of the interstate for AN HOUR before the state troopers arrived to offload the bus.
Somewhere in the delay, I made a number of phone calls, including one to my brother, who was at a friend's house. He suggested calling my mother, which I had not done so because she is by nature a nervous wreck. Apparently this suggestion was a joke, but out of boredom or some other form of delirium I took this advice. My mother freaked, even though I felt safe and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. The next morning she called, early, wanting to know where we were. I said, "in the hostel," and she heard "hospital." She has selective hearing.
My respect for police went up monumentally after interacting with the finest of Delaware State Troop 6. The state trooper who first boarded the bus was shocked that we had been just sitting in the interstate for an hour, waiting to get rear-ended. The driver was just telling him that we were just going to wait until Megabus sent a mechanic, but the trooper emphatically told him that the passengers were going to be off-loaded, now, and that Megabus would see us safely transported to New York, at their expense.
We filed off the bus, happy to be out. I felt really bad for anyone travelling north on I95, as we were blocking two lanes of traffic, the one the bus was stuck in and the one to its right (there was no shoulder).
Over a barrier there was some kind of abandoned exit or something that we hung out in. I missed a step down as I hopped over and thought that was going to be it for my knee. Then it would have been lawsuit time.
Our scenic location (for three hours):
People are getting even antsier. It was great people watching to see the people whose plans have been RUINED. Some cried, some shouted, some threatened to have psychological attacks, some threatened lawsuits. I only dreamed of getting to New York before sunrise.
All told, we spent some two hours standing on the side of the road, though the time passed relatively quickly, at least for me. At one point a massive tow truck showed up. Turns out that it could not tow the bus because it was too large. Should have called up London to see how they handle their fleet of double deckers.
Finally an off-duty Delaware transit bus shows up. No one made any kind of announcement, but everyone ran to it and we all packed in. We were transported to Delaware Troop 6, though at first it looked like we were pulling up to a correctional facility.
The station really wasn't equipped to handle all 67 passengers, and a concern was raised that the "usual Friday night customers" would soon be brought in. The troopers then blocked traffic so we could march across the street to the fire hall.
When we arrived, we were greeted by the blissful aroma of 30 Domino's cheese pizzas, and we ate as though we had never eaten before. The fire hall, which can be rented for your next special occasion, had a very junior high dance feel, complete with junior high dance slow song music.
Some people tried to sleep, but I was very much awake, so I read some of The Age of Innocence. Just as people were starting to get comfortable, our Megabus chariot arrived. This was somewhere around 1:30 a.m.
Not sure whether it was actually a new bus, or the same one repaired:
We arrived at Penn Station about 4 a.m., but New York is the city that never sleeps! Diane and I decided to walk to our hostel (Big Apple Hostel, 45th St., Times Square). There were still plenty of people out, although in retrospect this was probably not the wisest move. We checked in, made our way up to our room where our roommates were sleeping with the light on and the a/c off, and collapsed. 4:23 a.m.
I did not hear the roommates leave the next morning, but I did hear my phone ring at 10 a.m. My friend Natalie, the captain of my cherished high school congressional debate team, is in New York for the summer as an intern at the Met. We arranged to meet up with her in the afternoon for a late lunch and a museum visit. She apologized for having to push back our plans...Diane and I laughed at that one.
Diane and I finally got a start on the morning, grabbing bagels (decent but nowhere near the amazingness of Broadway Bagels) and large iced coffees to supply us with caffeine. We headed up to the Neue (apparently pronounced Noya) Gallery, which specializes in Austrian and German art. That gallery has the very famous Klimt painting of Adele Bloch-Bauer that was a prominent case of art confiscated during the Holocaust.
We then took a stroll through the lovely Central Park, before meeting Natalie at Le Pain Quotidien (my French is so good, right Diane). It was good to catch up with her. She will be in Bolgona all year, perhaps I will have a chance to meet up with her there. The major perk of her internship, at least from our perspective, is that she can get herself and guests in for free at all New York art museums. She took us to the Guggenheim.
The Guggenheim is an exceptional Frank Lloyd Wright design that unfortunately is undergoing massive renovation meaning that the permanent collection was almost completely off display. Instead we were treated to the Louise Bourgeois exhibit. Anyone who thinks that I am too feminist or have too much baggage really needs to see her work. We had first been introduced to Bourgeois through her sculpture Eyes, public art along the Hudson waterfront. It looks like boobs. After seeing the exhibit, I know it is supposed to.
Exhausted, Diane and I tried to plan out our next move and decided on dinner in Little Italy. We went to the restaurant recommended by Jerry on our last trip (as it turns out his sister works there). The food was pretty good. We went to another restaurant for dessert.
We then meandered through nearby Chinatown and Soho and without much of a plan decided to walk toward the waterfront. Somehow we seemed to be in sketchy, deserted neighborhoods, but finally we found the water. We decided to try for the Staten Island ferry to see it at night, although it seemed like we would not make it, especially with my bum knee and Diane walking barefoot because her shoes were killing her.
This clock was taunting us from across the river:
We collapsed near the Battery, convinced that we had missed the boat, and I declared I was too exhausted to wait an hour for the next ferry. Out of curiosity, we looked at the schedule and realized we had read it wrong. We then rushed to the port, grabbed ice coffee, and made the ferry.
Once we returned, we made our way back to the hostel by way of Junior's to get some cheesecake (I decided it's just not my favorite). We opted to eat it at the hostel, sitting outside on a little patio. Diane talked a lot to some French guys. I didn't really say much at all...not a good habit since I will be travelling extensively in the next year. I think we stayed up later than we had intended to. When we made it up to our room, we discovered our new roommates were a girl...and her boyfriend. Not exactly the all-girl dorm we expected.
The location of the hostel was tops, so I'd recommend Big Apple Hostel for short stays, but it was much smaller and gloomier than Hostelling International-New York, so I'd recommend that one if you're looking to hang out (or for the really good bagels!!!). They are both $39/night.
At this point, late on Saturday night, I realize I can't find my key. I take everything out of my purse and backpack, and Diane also looks, and the key is nowhere to be found. The funny thing is that normally I'm very organized and don't have trouble finding things, but for some reason when I travel I can't find things. I go down to the front desk, and it turns out that all that will happen is that I won't get back my $10 "linen deposit" which is really not too bad (also those linens are NOT worth $10!).
I wake up in the morning and in the course of getting ready dump everything out of my purse again. I shake it upside down and out slides my key. Go figure.
We go to mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral (aren't I such a good Catholic?) and then try to find somewhere to eat on our way up to the Cloisters, the Met's Medieval collection way up there at the tip of Manhattan. Diane joked that we should have stopped off at 103rd to get bagels at Broadway Bagels, which was an amazing suggestion.
After seeing the Cloisters, we try to get on the bus, only to find out that THEY DON'T FREAKING TAKE DOLLARS. I don't understand the policy, and at the time had $0.05 on my MetroCard and less than $2 in change, so I incredulously had to get off the bus and walk back to the subway stop so that we could take the bus all the way down to the west side. It was a long ride. I did lay eyes on Columbia for the first time (looks like an amazing place).
By the time we get off the bus, we're starving, but somehow can't seem to find lunch places. We had been debating between the Frick and Whitney galleries, but the Whitney won out as there was a restaurant. I had a cornmeal waffle with apple butter and strawberries, which was DELICIOUS. Coffee was $3, so I took advantage of free refills.
The Whitney's permanent collection was excellent, lots of Edward Hopper. They specialize in American art. The exhibits were conceptual art, which isn't exactly my thing. Diane rushed off to the MoMA, and I wished I had opted to see the Frick, since I didn't need all the time at the Whitney and the Frick closed an hour earlier. Buyer's remorse.
I hopped a bus downtown to meet up with Diane. We walked and she gave me the task of picking where we ate. I picked a pizza/dessert place I had seen Diane looking at the cannoli in the window. She tells me it turns out the cannoli was subpar. We walked to Penn Station and the walk seemed a lot longer, perhaps because we were so exhausted. The line for the Megabus was long. Megabus had sold at least two buses worth of tickets for the 7:15 departure. We did not make the first bus. One lady was really freaking out and it was really hilarious to watch. Chill out, lady. As far as I'm concerned, only half an hour late on Megabus is on time.
We were actually travelling on a Nartz bus chartered by Megabus. Diane and I sat in the front seat again. The driver said she was quitting after that weekend. We could pretty much relate. Got into DC at like 1 a.m. The big problem with Megabus's stop is that it's by Metro Center downtown. Since the city, at least that part, shuts down after 7 p.m., the area is deserted and it took forever to get a cab. But it was just good to get "home."
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