So, clearly we survived the flight in the Cessna 402.
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| I'm in the back row of passengers. |
While at Niagra Falls, I was not a fan of the helicopter banking sharply. I was seated next to the door. The mostly perspex door that clearly wasn't going to remain closed if my full weight ended up pressed against it. At least though, I wasn't the guy that went outside the heliport, took one look at the helicopter, heard the noise it made and went back inside, refusing to go back out. He was eight years old, I guess.
I wasn't looking forward to the Cessna flight either; being buffeted around in the winds in such a light craft. At least though, I wasn't the guy who tucked his head into his tshirt shortly after take off and didn't come back out until after we'd landed. He was also eight.
What I wasn't prepared for was after the Rockland-Boston Cessna flight being one of the smoothest (if noisiest) flights so far, for the Boston-New York flight (on a proper jet no less) to be the one that I thought was going to result in our fiery deaths. It was mostly fine until we encountered rough weather just outside New York and the pilot announced that we were in a holding pattern waiting for clearance to land and so we'd just be flying back and forth through this tornado for twenty minutes or so.
Anyway, after catching a bus and a train via the stupid public transport system (They have a cheap and flimsy equivalent of a myki/oyster card. To catch the bus you don't swipe the card on the bus. Instead you swipe the card at a machine at the bus stop and it prints you a bus ticket. Unless this seems non-intuitive to you and you hop on the bus looking for the swipe machine. Then the driver tells you you need to hop back off the bus and swipe the ticket machine, which you do and the bus driver shuts the doors and drives off, because he can't wait. He's got traffic to go and be stuck in.) we arrived at the hotel.
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| Room! |
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| The desk I am sitting at now. |
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| Central park. |
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| The view from the window. |
Called Sleep No More it was recommended to me by a woman that works for one of the consulting companies that we use at work.
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| Cassilda: Indeed, it's time. We have all laid aside disguise but you. |
Set in a "restored" hotel that has been closed since it was built in the 30s, audience members wear a mask and must remain silent but are otherwise free to roam about the 5 story building as the production takes place around them.
Ultimately it is a interpretive dance version of Macbeth. But if you have to suffer through that for three hours, best that it be in a 30s era Carcosan hotel that also incorporates a haunted forest and a mental asylum, while other masked audience members watch over the proceeding like silent wraiths. Ken got spoon fed tea by a crazy nurse (he says, I wasn't there. It may not even have been part of the play). All I got was splashed with bloody water when a naked man jumped into a bath in front of me (It's okay, it was someone else's blood). The naked woman in the bath an hour later two floors up splashed less, so once I'd dried out I remained that way. This play has an obsession with nude bathing (which I guess is less weird than being obsessed with clothed bathing). Also, it has the best intimidation by wine pouring scene I think I've ever seen.
Photography is not allowed within the building. There are some shots of the set here if anyone is curious.
On the way back we walked through times square.
Something was going on, but I'm not sure what. There were both people dressed as children's beloved Disney characters and women with american flag themed lingerie body painted on in the same section of the square. USA! USA! USA!
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| There is so much light from these things the street is like an overcast day. |
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| Panorama |
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