Tag Archives: new york

New York: The Definitive Review (7/10)

I just realised I never got around to doing this, so here you go: my ultimate, tell-all and take no prisoners review of the city so GREAT they named it twice. That’s New York, by the way. Not Manchester, where I am currently freezing my nips off. This place shouldn’t have been named once, as far as I’m concerned. Though I do still like Chorlton.

Anyway, that place on the anti-west coast of America. My first issue with it is the size – not just the sprawling, square (tidy) mess that is the city and its layout, but the actual height of everything. Why couldn’t everyone involved in building things in New York just calm down a bit? What’s wrong with making everything a bungalow? At least that way I won’t have to crane my neck up so much I don’t see the street urchins at ground level robbing me of all my pocketly possessions (1x fluff, 2x more fluff). It would also mean less lifts inside these massive buildings that have to propel you at just-about-lightspeed to get you to the 36th floor in a timely fashion. They’re just not good for hangovers, guys. You didn’t design the city – aesthetically, at least – with hangovers in mind. And that’s an oversight.

An undersight, though – yes that’s my new dictionary opposite of an oversight – is the food. Now granted, I lucked out in being ferried around to some reasonably fancy places, but I did get to go to a deli where the insane woman told us stories about Robbie Coltrane and Helen Mirren and my brisket sandwich was big enough to feed double-me. Though I forgot to collect the wrapped up half as I was too busy dying inside. I also had a great burger. I would like to return to New York to sample the food properly, as I think being babysat so much isn’t particularly conductive to a ‘real’ food experience. I have no idea why this has gone half-genuine here, sorry.

Shower? Well mine was fine. Good, even. But a chum had one that was long enough for me to lie down in and had two actual showers in it, so I can’t help but feel a bit let down there, New York. Bed was very comfy and massive though. Big enough to fit 3.42 me on it, at a quick guess, and soft enough to that only 12.5% of each me would remain uncomfortable in some way. This therefore makes me think all beds in New York must be of the same quality. MUST BE.

I didn’t get to see much of the city in all honesty, bar Times Square which was a bit shit. Not exactly my idea of a good place when there’s a 20 metre tall advert for Piers “Cunt” Morgan’s new show on CNN staring at me. Or the tossers who hassle you. Hey I am walking here, etc. I’d like to go back, hopefully the second time without massive illness, with the ability to explore and with other changes I can’t be bothered going into.

It was going to be a different number, but then I got some cheap MS points from Zavvi thanks to a freebie 15% off code which levelled me out, so it’s back to a resounding: 7/10

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I am walking here, sir.

I now understand why the phrase “I’m walkin’ here!” seems to have been invented in the city of New York. In a brief, brief foray into Times Square where we simply walked in a straight line for a while, looked up a bit, turned around and walked back we were accosted on no less than A Shitload of occasions.

Now a polite “sorry” didn’t seem to deter, so I moved on to the more direct, yet still polite “no ta” which yielded greater results. Unfortunately it didn’t work all the time, and one girl – persistent little tyke that she was – wouldn’t take “sorry” or “no ta” for an answer, pestering us into saying why we claimed to not like drinking or stand-up comedy.

Her assertions that we were British, and hence must like drinking and comedy were laughed off. While we knew we were lying, we soon got into the part where she just got offensive, asking if we liked Peter Kay or Michael Macintyre.

This was the point when “I’m walkin’ here!” would have been apt. That, or a massive “FUCK OFF” in her face. Instead we just laughed at her, then I think a large bouncer called me a “fat-eared motherfucker”, though I could be mistaken there.

This is short and crap as I was supposed to be downstairs five minutes ago. SOZ.

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I am lacking in cognitive… thingy… stuff

I have now been sat here for 20 minutes and I cannot think of a single thing to write about. I’m in New York, I’ve been playing video games for the last two days (with another day to go), been talking to some* interesting people about games and saw Ricky Steamboat in the flesh – oh, and I am/we are interviewing Tim Schafer in an hour or two. That’s a bit more than what normally goes on with me.

But I can’t think of anything to write about. Anything fun to say, anything pseudo-witty to comment on or even any poor attempts at being funny. My mind is drawing nothing but a blank. I may have to go for a walk around the “block”, as they call them here, but then it is dark, I don’t know where I am and it’s bloody freezing outside.

It’s probably just a natural defence mechanism of my brain – once it knows there’s too much going on (as in, “more than my normal routine of sitting all day”) it just shuts down to conserve energy. As such it doesn’t give me enough Brain Juice to formulate even a half-baked idea for the blog. So New York may look ace, from what I’ve seen out of cab and coach windows, but I have no ability to appreciate any of it or take it in right now. Nor do I have the ability to function at any level beyond grunting, parping and cackling at Pictionary.

Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Or maybe I’m just really bloody tired. I know I’m not completely devoid of ideas, as the Ultimate Review of New York will be up in a few days. It looks to me like it might be a high-scoring city, if early reports are anything to go by.

*One person. Making me love Volition even more than I already do.


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Virgin Atlantic: still shi… oh wait

This is now the second time I’ve flown with Virgin Atlantic and it’s the second time I’m going to whine about them being shit. Aside from the light fitting falling out on someone in our group, leaving the burning hot bulb exposed for all to see, there’s the TV/movie service, which was apparently fitted in 1834.

How can you have looping movies? How can you make it so people can’t actually choose to watch what they want to watch? How can the tiny, shitty little TVs be such poor quality, constantly breaking, crackling, going well weird like whenever the cabin crew talk on the speaker system? HOW? I know it can be done right, as I’ve flown with Air Canada. Who were brilliant.

Still, at least the shittitude of Virgin means people are less likely to fly with them, meaning I got an empty seat next to me in which I could stretch out a tiny bit.

But another thing, I hate how th… oh, wait. They gave us Love Hearts just before we landed. All is forgiven, Virgin Atlantic!

Now we begin the good old-fashioned descent into jetlagginess as I try and be awake an extra five hours over what I’d be awake at home. WOE IS ME. Still, first time in New York. Could be worse.


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