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| A Woman's Directory For Travel and Life. WAVE Journey is your one stop online resource for women oriented businesses and services around the world. WAVE Journey is for every woman to enjoy. If you love to travel, cook, read or revel in outdoor activities this website is for you. If you are looking to connect with other like-minded women or if you are interested in finding businesses or services that cater to women, WAVE Journey is your number one online resource. New York: The City That Never Sleeps ~ Article by Catherine Graham |
| WAVE Journey |
| Women's Adventures, Vacations & Experiences ~ Your Journey Starts Here! |
New York, the city that never sleeps. Short but sweet,
I recently travelled a small section of north east
America over 10 days, visiting Boston, New York,
Niagara then Washington DC. It was one of the most
amazing trips of my life, New York being one of the
highlights for sure. It was here that a
once-in-a-lifetime experience happened to me. Well,
quite by chance and most frustratingly, this actually
bypassed me and happened to my Mum instead! I'll
explain more...
I recently travelled a small section of north east
America over 10 days, visiting Boston, New York,
Niagara then Washington DC. It was one of the most
amazing trips of my life, New York being one of the
highlights for sure. It was here that a
once-in-a-lifetime experience happened to me. Well,
quite by chance and most frustratingly, this actually
bypassed me and happened to my Mum instead! I'll
explain more...
We had arrived into NY at around 4.00 on the Friday afternoon, at once immersed in the frantic
scene of a typical New York street: drivers beeping their horns, noise and shouting everywhere
around, swarms of people hurrying along the street at top speed. Everything was so
overwhelming, you really feel like 'nobody' as you are immediately swallowed up in the
immense buzz in New York. The buildings are impending and intrusive, the advertising triple the
size of a usual billboard and the cabs so symbolic of New York that you can barely believe you
have actually arrived. I felt all my idealisms immediately become grounded as 'Sex and the City'
and 'Friends' flashed through my mind and quickly disappeared; the scene infront was eerily
real. This was New York, it had just hit me in the face.
Around an hour later, after finding our fancy hotel and dumping our luggage we had turned
right back round again and headed back into the hustle and bustle. We soaked up the
atmosphere, threw ourselves into the city vibe and explored and shopped all afternoon. It
grew darker, the lights came on and the city was alive with people, noise, colours and a vibrant
buzz. My Mum decided to head back to the hotel around midnight, however I was still going
strong on the shopping front and told her I would see her in the morning. How I would regret
that decision!!!
Anyway, though slightly reluctant, Mum left me in the Hard Rock Cafe and returned to the street
outside. The rest of the story she recalled to me the next morning, after it had all happened.
She was feeling slightly nervous on her own so hurried along, not looking directly at anyone
and dodging the crowds, the noise and the activity. She arrived back within ten minutes and
still felt slightly vulnerable as she walked through reception and towards the lift. When the lift
doors open she froze.
Not to say my Mum is racist or stereotypical in any way but quite understandably, late at night
in New York, something inside her automatically recoiled on seeing three very big intimidating
looking black men in the lift when it opened. She took a step back, instead deciding to take the
stairs but the porter picked up her bags and placed them inside the lift before she had a
chance to turn round. They looked at her, mildly expectantly she thought, as she hesitantly
stepped in and turned her back to these three well-built men. She stood awkwardly in front of
them, praying for the lift to hurry up as the doors slid shut in front of her and an eery silence
hung in the air. Without any real warning, one of the men leant down very close to her ear and
spoke three simple words: 'Hit the floor'. A wave of panic ran through her and without thinking
she threw herself to the ground, screaming out wildly, 'Don't hurt me!!! Please!!' She barely
knew what was happening. Terror was taking over every logical thought in her mind. All she
could do was cower helplessly on the floor and pray that she wasn't about to be shot or
beaten.
But nothing happened. In fact, nothing had ever been about to happen. The men were in fits of
laughter, attempting to shout over the top of her screaming, "No no Ma'am! We mean choose
the floor you would like to exit the lift!" As she calmed slightly and listened to their shouts, the
wave of realisation hit her of what they actually meant. She scrambled off the floor, mildly
aware of one of the men trying to help her up as she did and felt her face burn red as she
literally 'hit' the button for her floor. They were still sniggering uncontrollably as she faced the
doors and willed the floor to swallow her up. She scurried out the lift the second the doors
opened, with half a glance at the grinning men as she left. At this point, there was no way she
was going to see the comical side!
You can imagine my hilarity on hearing this story from my poor Mum the next morning over
breakfast. Picturing this scene had me in stitches. Although still indignant that 'Hit the floor' was
a most ambiguous thing to say in any situation and obviously still feeling silly, she did actually
laugh about it after a while.
We went down to reception fairly early on our last morning. We were in merry spirits, having
had an awesome weekend in New York, regardless of Mum's stupidity. On checking out, the
man at reception took our keys, noted the room number and immediately looked up at us, with
a slight grin on his face. "Madam, I'm pleased to tell you that your entire weekend at this hotel
has been paid for." Mum and I were silent for a second, registering this information. "Sorry?"
Mum frowned. "What do you mean?" The man nodded slightly and drew out a small envelope.
Handing Mum the blank envelope, she glanced at me then opened it up to pull out a small piece
of paper. On it, was written:
"Thank you for giving me the greatest laugh of my life.
Yours sincerely,
Will Smith".
Who's laughing now?
scene of a typical New York street: drivers beeping their horns, noise and shouting everywhere
around, swarms of people hurrying along the street at top speed. Everything was so
overwhelming, you really feel like 'nobody' as you are immediately swallowed up in the
immense buzz in New York. The buildings are impending and intrusive, the advertising triple the
size of a usual billboard and the cabs so symbolic of New York that you can barely believe you
have actually arrived. I felt all my idealisms immediately become grounded as 'Sex and the City'
and 'Friends' flashed through my mind and quickly disappeared; the scene infront was eerily
real. This was New York, it had just hit me in the face.
Around an hour later, after finding our fancy hotel and dumping our luggage we had turned
right back round again and headed back into the hustle and bustle. We soaked up the
atmosphere, threw ourselves into the city vibe and explored and shopped all afternoon. It
grew darker, the lights came on and the city was alive with people, noise, colours and a vibrant
buzz. My Mum decided to head back to the hotel around midnight, however I was still going
strong on the shopping front and told her I would see her in the morning. How I would regret
that decision!!!
Anyway, though slightly reluctant, Mum left me in the Hard Rock Cafe and returned to the street
outside. The rest of the story she recalled to me the next morning, after it had all happened.
She was feeling slightly nervous on her own so hurried along, not looking directly at anyone
and dodging the crowds, the noise and the activity. She arrived back within ten minutes and
still felt slightly vulnerable as she walked through reception and towards the lift. When the lift
doors open she froze.
Not to say my Mum is racist or stereotypical in any way but quite understandably, late at night
in New York, something inside her automatically recoiled on seeing three very big intimidating
looking black men in the lift when it opened. She took a step back, instead deciding to take the
stairs but the porter picked up her bags and placed them inside the lift before she had a
chance to turn round. They looked at her, mildly expectantly she thought, as she hesitantly
stepped in and turned her back to these three well-built men. She stood awkwardly in front of
them, praying for the lift to hurry up as the doors slid shut in front of her and an eery silence
hung in the air. Without any real warning, one of the men leant down very close to her ear and
spoke three simple words: 'Hit the floor'. A wave of panic ran through her and without thinking
she threw herself to the ground, screaming out wildly, 'Don't hurt me!!! Please!!' She barely
knew what was happening. Terror was taking over every logical thought in her mind. All she
could do was cower helplessly on the floor and pray that she wasn't about to be shot or
beaten.
But nothing happened. In fact, nothing had ever been about to happen. The men were in fits of
laughter, attempting to shout over the top of her screaming, "No no Ma'am! We mean choose
the floor you would like to exit the lift!" As she calmed slightly and listened to their shouts, the
wave of realisation hit her of what they actually meant. She scrambled off the floor, mildly
aware of one of the men trying to help her up as she did and felt her face burn red as she
literally 'hit' the button for her floor. They were still sniggering uncontrollably as she faced the
doors and willed the floor to swallow her up. She scurried out the lift the second the doors
opened, with half a glance at the grinning men as she left. At this point, there was no way she
was going to see the comical side!
You can imagine my hilarity on hearing this story from my poor Mum the next morning over
breakfast. Picturing this scene had me in stitches. Although still indignant that 'Hit the floor' was
a most ambiguous thing to say in any situation and obviously still feeling silly, she did actually
laugh about it after a while.
We went down to reception fairly early on our last morning. We were in merry spirits, having
had an awesome weekend in New York, regardless of Mum's stupidity. On checking out, the
man at reception took our keys, noted the room number and immediately looked up at us, with
a slight grin on his face. "Madam, I'm pleased to tell you that your entire weekend at this hotel
has been paid for." Mum and I were silent for a second, registering this information. "Sorry?"
Mum frowned. "What do you mean?" The man nodded slightly and drew out a small envelope.
Handing Mum the blank envelope, she glanced at me then opened it up to pull out a small piece
of paper. On it, was written:
"Thank you for giving me the greatest laugh of my life.
Yours sincerely,
Will Smith".
Who's laughing now?
BIO: