Long Day's Drive
Yesterday I drove to New York and back (a 650 mile round trip). And if that wasn't bad enough, yesterday was the beginning of Memorial Day holiday weekend, the official beginning of summer in the US, and a day on which when 31 million Americans are meant to be on the road going somewhere.
Most of the 31 million seemed to be lining up at the toll booths on the I-95. There are an obscene number of tollbooths on the I-95, which is the main road which runs up from Washington DC through Baltimore, past Philadelphia, through New Jersey and onto New York City. Some parts of it have so many tolls that you have only just wound up your window from the last toll before you are winding it down again for the next.
At the Holland Tunnel, which goes under the Hudson and emerges on the west side of Manhattan, you have to pay a toll of six bucks for a trip of less than one mile. It took about an hour to travel that one mile, though, so I suppose I got a lot of time for my money. (And just after I came out of the tunnel, I did see that trapeze thing in Battery Park that SJP goes on in the fifth season of SATC. )
I also made a point at stopping at as many service stations as possible on my trip. I can confirm that they are mostly just as horrendous as UK ones, except perhaps (surprisingly?) much smaller. And there is a great emphasis on the sale of NYPD t-shirts and fried chicken, and much less emphasis on all day breakfasts, newspapers (I saw only one newspaper the whole day, a solitary USA Today at the McDonalds in Gainesville, VA on the way home) and amusement arcades.
The only detour I did was in New Jersey. Having taken 2 hours to go 30 miles, I decided to leave the turnpike and have a look to see what else was in New Jersey, apart from gas stations where they won't let you pour your own gas or look at maps. The New Jersey I have known to date is mainly the bit near NYC which is one of the greatest holes on the planet: ad hoardings for discount jewellery, grim motels, and industrial wastelands belching smoke. Hotels around Newark airport actually have to hire off duty police to stand guard in the lobby all night. There are areas near Newark, NJ where you are advised never to stop your car and get out, not even if the car on fire and you are choking on toxic smoke from the polyester fluff on your dice. Perhaps this is why in NJ you are not allowed to pour your own gas.
The NJ I found off the turnpike, however, was like fairytale America. Rural: with fields that looked like they were growing things (central and northern Virginia does not have any of these), and a village that claimed to have been founded in 1697 but I still believe may have been a Disney film location dating from 1997. Every house was perfect, with red white and blue rosettes outside, a perfect village church, a village tavern, a village pond, and village post office. All that was missing was a village green with a cricket match in progress.
In case I was overwhelmed by this perfection I was reassured, however, when the vicious little man with bloodshot eyes at the BP gas station refused to let me look at one of the maps to see where the village was. He said I was not even allowed to look at the cover of the map unless I bought it first.
***
On the radio I heard about a striking worker in West Virginia who has been on the picket line outside his employer's plant since November last year. This week he was arrested for turning up on the picket line in a Grinch outfit, complete with mask. Apparently in many states, including W. Va, it is illegal to wear a mask if you are over 12 years old and it is not for health and safety reasons, and so this guy could be locked up for several months.
Most of the 31 million seemed to be lining up at the toll booths on the I-95. There are an obscene number of tollbooths on the I-95, which is the main road which runs up from Washington DC through Baltimore, past Philadelphia, through New Jersey and onto New York City. Some parts of it have so many tolls that you have only just wound up your window from the last toll before you are winding it down again for the next.
At the Holland Tunnel, which goes under the Hudson and emerges on the west side of Manhattan, you have to pay a toll of six bucks for a trip of less than one mile. It took about an hour to travel that one mile, though, so I suppose I got a lot of time for my money. (And just after I came out of the tunnel, I did see that trapeze thing in Battery Park that SJP goes on in the fifth season of SATC. )
I also made a point at stopping at as many service stations as possible on my trip. I can confirm that they are mostly just as horrendous as UK ones, except perhaps (surprisingly?) much smaller. And there is a great emphasis on the sale of NYPD t-shirts and fried chicken, and much less emphasis on all day breakfasts, newspapers (I saw only one newspaper the whole day, a solitary USA Today at the McDonalds in Gainesville, VA on the way home) and amusement arcades.
The only detour I did was in New Jersey. Having taken 2 hours to go 30 miles, I decided to leave the turnpike and have a look to see what else was in New Jersey, apart from gas stations where they won't let you pour your own gas or look at maps. The New Jersey I have known to date is mainly the bit near NYC which is one of the greatest holes on the planet: ad hoardings for discount jewellery, grim motels, and industrial wastelands belching smoke. Hotels around Newark airport actually have to hire off duty police to stand guard in the lobby all night. There are areas near Newark, NJ where you are advised never to stop your car and get out, not even if the car on fire and you are choking on toxic smoke from the polyester fluff on your dice. Perhaps this is why in NJ you are not allowed to pour your own gas.
The NJ I found off the turnpike, however, was like fairytale America. Rural: with fields that looked like they were growing things (central and northern Virginia does not have any of these), and a village that claimed to have been founded in 1697 but I still believe may have been a Disney film location dating from 1997. Every house was perfect, with red white and blue rosettes outside, a perfect village church, a village tavern, a village pond, and village post office. All that was missing was a village green with a cricket match in progress.
In case I was overwhelmed by this perfection I was reassured, however, when the vicious little man with bloodshot eyes at the BP gas station refused to let me look at one of the maps to see where the village was. He said I was not even allowed to look at the cover of the map unless I bought it first.
***
On the radio I heard about a striking worker in West Virginia who has been on the picket line outside his employer's plant since November last year. This week he was arrested for turning up on the picket line in a Grinch outfit, complete with mask. Apparently in many states, including W. Va, it is illegal to wear a mask if you are over 12 years old and it is not for health and safety reasons, and so this guy could be locked up for several months.
posted by alranson | 8:10 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home