Saturday, July 03, 2010

Hostels and Shuttles

With five days before I flew to NYC I figured I had some adventures ahead of me.

In the end I was online in my house with the dogs content and being happy enough myself to want to forget that I had trouble brewing. However knowing that something must be done and one the cheap I started to look for relatively inexpensive options that could be paired with my plane ticket. This would probably mean a hostel. I was not opposed to the idea of a hostel at all, but not sure what to expect. I can be picky, hard to please, and bitchy about everything at the best of times, so who knew what would happen if I ended up with a roommate that I couldn’t stand, or worse a place that was a disgusting shambles.

After some research I decided to go with the Chocolat Hostel off Broadway. Of all the places this one won out because of the name. I liked the movie Chocolat, I like chocolate, and dammit, it just kind a seemed cool, deal with it. The plan then, was to arrive in NYC, get to the hostel, then get to the site I was working at for an afternoon meeting at 3 p.m. To do this I would have to leave the Chicago at about six a.m., which meant I would get to spend all of one afternoon with the Bard before I left at four a.m. for an airport.

The Bard, always happy to lend me her couch, did just that. We had a yummy fajita dinner, I crashed like the devil will do, and at four a.m. I was taking a cab to the airport for a flight to NYC. I had called ahead to the hostel, as some research had revealed that they offered a cheap shuttled service that would get me there for about 20 dollars. They informed me that I had to book the super shuttle, but yes, it would be only 20. I figured with that I had plans, knew where I was going and how I was going to get there. I was ready to go.

The flight was flight like. After a quick repack my carryon did manage to fit in the overhead bin, and since I didn’t want to have to pay an outrageous baggage fee I managed to fit 30 days+ worth of wardrobe into it and still be able to get it into the rack above my seat.

I disembarked and headed to the signs that said shuttle. I saw a shuttle. It was not my shuttle. The barker outside the shuttle was a smiling and cheery guy who asked me where I was going. I explained to him that I was looking for the Super Shuttle. He informed me that was halfway across the airport.

“Why don’t you take this shuttle, it’s leaving now. It will only cost you ten dollars. Takes you right to 42nd street. From there you just take the subway to where you are going.”

I had a choice. I could go and seek out Super Shuttle (which I may or may not need a reservation for) or I could just get my New York subway initiation out of the way now and go for it. I was already prepared that the subway was to be a massive part of my life for the next month, and hey, I was saving 10 bucks.

Sign me up.

I got on the bus, was told to get off at the second stop. My bags disappeared underneath and I found a seat. I confirmed my meeting via smartest phone, and then sat back in my chair to watch as New York City unfolded around me.


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