NYC: Is It Thursday Yet?

After a very successful and punctual journey from NoMaRo to JFK, on disembarking from the plane, I was faced with a seriously long queue at immigration. When I was younger, I remember that it was normal to wait an hour but maybe I was just being an inpatient teenager. In any case, these days it usually seems to take about 15-30 minutes.

Today, however, I waited for over 90 minutes, not helped by the fact that it was roasting hot and there were only about five desks open. The BA rep tried to be helpful, offering to expedite anyone with a good excuse; good excuses included: being old and about to pass out, being loud and claiming to be about to pass out, having a connecting flight, having to board a cruise in two hours' time and being a BA gold member and/or business class passenger and complaining loudly and repeatedly about paying £7,000 for tickets. Sadly, none of these applied to me, although I did ask whether a "connection" to Brooklyn counted (it didn't).

But as my luggage arrived long before I did and the taxi queue was short, I was still in Manhattan by 3.15. The weather in Queens had been gorgeous and sunny but when we emerged from the Midtown Tunnel, the sun had vanished (or perhaps the two boroughs have different micro-climates). Manhattan, at any rate, was cloudy, humid and very hot, even at nine p.m.

I was only in the hotel long enough to drop my bags and freshen up before heading to the Rockefeller Center with Mum. The pink J. Crew skirt I liked turned out to be too pale and light in real life (I was hoping for fuchsia) but I did buy it in black, along with a pink patent leather belt and a purple scarf (guess my favourite colours...).

We went for dinner with Dad at the Trattoria dell'Arte, a family favourite. Last time we went, I was ill and didn't eat so I had forgotten how ginormous the pizzas are. They are also very tasty with balls of buffalo mozzarella as well as melted cheese. Luckily, the pizzas are also super thin and I had considerable help from Dad.

After the tiring week I've had so far, my brain is very confused as to what day it is and especially what time. I'm hoping that my body will just realise it really needs to catch some zeds and sleep through until seven, local time, when I'm going running in Central Park with Dad.