Blind Riding

Wednesday, September 5th - Sandusky, OH to NYC - 500+ miles.

Blasted across central Pennsylvania, through the Appalachian Mountains and on into NYC.

When I finally got within 100 miles of NY, I stopped to gas up and write directions down. 20 miles to go, I gassed up one more time and pasted the directions to my tank. Unfortunately, the sun was on its way down when I finally hit the city limits and darkness had settled in. Genius way of finding my way through one of the biggest cities in the world, one with horrible roads as well as one that I had never been to.

Hell, I thought the traffic in L.A. was bad. NYC is way worse, but I still split lanes, legal or not. No option but to keep going, I made it to the Holland Tunnel, paid $12 to get through, and ended up in the crotch of NYC. Pulled over once I got through the tunnel, checked navigation on my smartphone(say what you want, smartphones are a life-saver on the road - direction, weather patterns, whatever...) and got easy directions to the hotel I was staying at just blocks away.

Turns out, an x-girlfriend of mine from Minneapolis was staying in NYC on business the same exact dates I was to be there as well. So, having been in contact with her over the last 9 months, she offered to let me stay with her. Well, she was staying at the Trump SoHo. For those of you who don't have a clue, it's a super fancy hotel to say the least. It's not that I didn't feel comfortable walking into this place, but I definitely didn't feel like I belonged there after four long days on the road. I pulled up to the front door and the valet said, "I can't park that thing". He took my gear, oil still dripping out of my bag, gave me a ticket for their parking facility and sent me on my way. $70/night to park! Whatever, 24 hour security and my bike was parked right outside security's "trailer". Plus, I was staying for free.

Luxurious, posh, extravagant... call it what you want, I was probably the dirtiest son of a bitch to walk through their doors, ever. Everyone in suits, dresses, and decked out apparel - I didn't really blend in too well in an old pendleton, jeans, and cowboy boots. Road-worn, dirty, jeans full of grease and oil, and smelling like a dog, I walked up to the front desk. A weird look on the front desk lady's face, she asked, "Sir, do you have room with us?" I started laughing and said, "Yes, yes I do". Gave her my info, as she punched it into her computer the weird look went away and her ass-kissing customer service attitude came out. To give you an idea of the Trump's clientele, Dwyane Wade walked by me as the lady handed me my room key. Again, I started laughing.

After spending the last three nights sleeping on a picnic table, a couch, then a run-down motel 6, this place was like heaven after a long trip on the road(minus all of the yuppies and rich assholes). This hotel room was bigger than my apartment and was nicer than anywhere I've ever been to. I've stayed in the suites at the Hard Rock in Vegas, but this room put those to shame. With my x still at work, I went to the hotel bar for a drink, $16.50 for a Makers. Again, the laughing ensued. Luckily, the hipster bartender liked me and bought me my second round(pouring doubles-triples). I chatted it up with some jazzed up broads at the bar, watched the rest of the NYG-DAL football game, and threw a bunch of money at the bartender before heading back to the room with a buzz.