My final stop-off in New York started off well when my journo friend, Jo, took me to a night in the penthouse of a hotel by the Empire State Building. That sounds quite risqué but it wasn’t that sort of night in a penthouse. It was an evening organised by the Alaskan tourist board. Here is me and Jo when, miraculously, we both won prizes in the draw to go and visit Alaska:
Jo got some sort of train ticket with no hotel attached and I won a cruise for 2 days and then some whale-watching tour. The main drink was a Saint Germain and vodka and gin cocktail but I drank Italian (Prosecco). A highlight of the evening was going on the balcony for a fag break and chatting to Jennifer, the Alaskan PR who organised the evening and her friend, Patty.
Patty (in the middle) reckons that the place she is from in south east Alaska, Ketchikan, is the best place to go. Sixteen million acres of rain forest, apparently, and things called “Banana Snails.” They are pretty laid back, the Alaskans. Jennifer and Patty were talking about the tradition of going to friends’ houses for days of “pie making,” which didn’t seem to be code for anything. Then they go home again. It’d be good to squeeze in some social pie making between the whales. This morning, I noted that I’d written something called “ten buck yoga and beer evening,” on my iphone notepad which sounds like something also to look into when I’m in Alaska. It’s cheap to get to from LA and they bill it as “the last wilderness” and I do like a wilderness.
At around 10pm, Jo and I walked through Times Square to get the A train back to 145th street in Harlem. Here’s some of New York’s urban wilderness:
And real horses!
The horse on the left is called Brooklyn. His rider was telling me that all the horses in the New York police service are male and there are only 6o mounted police in the whole of Manhattan. They especially use horses for crowd control, so maybe one of the good things if Donald Trump ever gets in as president is that there will be hundreds of horses roamingManhattan. A propos of which, listen to my poet friend Lisa Luxx’s inspiring poem about the upside of catastrophe. It’s called How To Trump Donald Trump but I think it should be called, Be Not Afraid Of The Fool, a confident refrain which runs throughout.
Back to horses – I love them. This very handsome one got my attention. Look at the guy on the right though. Is he checking yoga and beer classes times?