On The Auditory Road

After what seemed like forever on the last Greyhound bus I would get on the trip going through he hellhole that is the American Mid-West I finally arrived back in New York. I felt a huge sense of relief that I was in the last city before home and the next two days were nothing but me waiting for that plane to arrive to take me back.

The first thing I did after I arrived was walk from Port Authority Bus Terminal to Greenwich Village where I grabbed myself a copy of The Onion and sat in a little park. After 5 minutes a young black male came up to me and asked how I was, after the first few minutes he asked if I’d like it if he gave me a blow job. I politely declined but he asked again stating that “It’s not gay if you don’t do anything back, you’ll love it.” I declined again and asked if he would leave me to read my paper.

I soon made my way over to Brooklyn on the L train where a lovely middle ages man named Tom had offered me a place to stay. We spent the afternoon talking about Kerouac and Buddhism and for dinner he made me Sloppy Joes.

The next morning (after sleeping on a park bench he had in his studio) I said goodbye but Tom insisted I meet his friends upstairs, I had a few minutes spare so I agreed. After knocking on the door a nudist answered it in all his glory, Tom apologised for not warning me in advance and we parted.

I very quickly made my way to Newark airport via the train and hoped that I would get away on time. A volcano was playing havoc with the airspace over Europe and flights were being cancelled left, right and centre. I turned out to be one of the very fortunate ones who got away on my original plane.

It was all over, I’d gone from East to West and back with detours to both Mexico and Canada, I had traveled an entire continent and that was it, the season was over, it was time to go home to real life and to rest.