Leaving New York never easy, I saw the lights fading out - New York City Trip Part 4

I woke up on the fourth and final day of my trip to New York feeling like crap. That Humidity must have really taken its toll. Still, I gathered the rest of my crap together. My flight home was waiting for me at JFK this evening. On the plus side, I still had almost a whole day in the city, and I decided to make the most of it. As usual, I made my way down to the Hudson, having left my luggage at the reception desk.

A last look at the North Cove Marina. Damn, I'm going to miss this place.

Lots of traffic on the river today

Hudson River Panorama, seen from the northern end of Battery Park City

One of my last views of the Empire State Building

What are ya lookin' at, eh? Can't one take a simple sand bath without being disturbed, or what?

The Battle plan was similar to the preceding day. I dropped in at Macy's one more times, but the results weren't radically different to the day before. It was on to Madison Square Guarden, and another visit to Borders. To hell with my baggage allowance. After a quick bite to eat, I decided that some relaxation was needed. So, it was off to Central Park, the green heart of Manhattan. It is one of the few places that enable you even a slight glimpse at how the island must have looked before the arrival of the Europeans.

A pale reflection of the Manhattan that was in Central Park.

These are the rocks that built New York...

Central Park Panorama

Got a problem with me sandbathing here? Yeah, I'm talking to you, ya goddamn tourist!

Skyline Impression...

Those goddamn people walkin' around here drive me up the wall, err  tree!

All too soon it was time for me to hop onto the subway and get back to the hotel. I got my luggage, and asked them to get me a cab. The ride to the airport was, well, interesting! Instead of retracing the route of a couple of days earlier and going through the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel, we started snaking through lower Manhattan before turning onto the Brooklyn Bridge. My camera was somewhere in the trunk of the car, which was just as well, as the whole bridge was clad in scaffolding. It was after that, that things started go go haywire, as we got caught in the quintessential afternoon traffic jam.

Somehow, the driver got me to the airport after over one and a half hours in separate traffic jams on the Long Island and Van Wyck Expressways. I quickly checked in and, after checking on the self service machine, decided to splurge out another 54 dollars for a seat at the forward end of the economy cabin. I was aiming for more leg space and a free seat next to me, a gamble that was to pay off as I had the entire row for myself.

After dropping my suitcase off at the luggage roulette, I mean baggage drop, I braced myself for the most worrying part of my trip: Security Control. Considering the reputation of TSA, I was expecting an Abu Ghraib type of experience.

Well, I couldn't have been more wrong. I don't know how much the staff manning the Terminal 8 Security check on that day were representative of the entire force, but they were courteous  helpful and respectful. They readily answered all my questions about the full picture scanner they put me through, letting me check out my own scan after the all clear had been given. It was just a schematic that would highlight any suspicious area. Probably better for the screener, as he probably would have fainted if he had seen the original. The radiation dosage, not a problem there either. Don't mind the second head on my shoulder... or the hooves... or that third eye, umm, where were we, anyway?

Ah yes, what's more, the TSA staff were even in the mood for a few jokes. I've worked in the security business myself, and I noticed that these guys managed to keep all this up while maintaining a watchful eye all of the time. Not an easy task, I can assure you. So hats off to the TSA crew in Terminal 8 on that day.

Then, I was through and in the departure area of the terminal. A thorough investigation of the duty free shops produced nothing of interest. The duty free shop at JFK Airport was nothing to write home about. Jesus, how arrogant does that sound, coming from someone who had been a hopeless unemployed guy? Anyway, on the way towards the seating area, I suddenly found my self under attack from the air. I just heard a loud buzzing sound near my head and crouched instinctively, just before I felt a rush of air. I took a step back before standing up again and found myself eye to eye, or rather eye to camera with one of those Parrot AR drones. Fascinating technology, but way too expensive. Besides, what good is a drone if you can't hang a few AGM-114 Hellfire on them?

After that close encounter of the third kind, I made my way into the concourse proper to look for a seat. My feet had endured a lot over these last few days, and they were making their opinion about that known. Those leather benches in the concourse looked awfully inviting. I just got something to drink and plopped down at my departure gate. The aircraft that was supposed to take me to London was already parked outside, basking in the late afternoon sun. I decided to do the same, stretched out my legs, and put in my headphones, leaving it to Antonio Vivaldi and his Four Seasons to relax me.

Main Concourse at Terminal 8 at JFK Airport. Definitely one of the nicer facilities I've encountered at an airport.

Hmm, I get the feeling that American Airlines may have some influence here in this building...

My ride to London, a Boeing 777-200ER, enjoying the sun...

At the time, I would have killed to work in there.

My TRULY last view of the Empire State Building.

Yep,  judging from these two shots, American Airlines is definitely some kind of big shot at JFK's Terminal 8.

The Sun setting over JFK...

Boarding began half an hour before departure. I began to reap the rewards of my gamble as I was among the first group to board the plane. I made myself comfortable in the first row behind the cabin divider. The seat next to me remained empty as I had hoped. With the foldout screen, the legspace, and the empty seat, it almost felt like some kind of premium seat. I relaxed, and waited for a nice, speedy flight home.

That hope lasted until the captain came over the PA shortly after pushback from the gate. He informed us that we were now on our way to the runway, and that we currently were number 16 for take off. Well, thanks a lot! Now I know how air traffic controllers at JFK got their reputation.. With nothing to do except wait, I leaned back and soaked up the atmosphere.
Half an hour later, it was our turn. The last aircraft ahead of us, a Delta Airlines Boeing 767, raced off into the dark with roaring engines. We taxied onto the runway right after her, and just before the pilot lined up, I saw the runway and taxiway lights shining in the dart in all their splendor, with the position lights of the 767 climbing into the night sky, a truely beautiful sight for someone like me. 
Then, all thoughts about the romance of flying were shattered by the roar of our own engines, as the GE90 revved up to drive us along the runway before shooting off into the clear night over New York. What started out as a steep climb soon turned out into a more measured ascent.. As the lights of Long Island sparkled below us, the chorus of a song came into my mind:

"Leaving New York, never easy, I saw the lighs fading out."

It only seems fitting that parts of the video for this song by REM were shot in the then brand new Terminal 8 at JFK. I guess REM's Michael Stipes had the same feelings that I had when embarking on another transatlantic journey. As I flipped through the IFE, listlessly looking for something to catch my fancy, Long Island and later Cape Cod slipped away underneath us. Soon, we were engulfed by the black of the night over the Atlantic. Once again, it was time for dinner. The food was once again not bad, especially considering where it was served. After dinner, I switched on my smartphone, which I had switched to flight mode since before I boarded. As Vangelis's Chariots of Fire flooded my mind, I once again coulndn't stop contemplating the journey I had embarked on. I had a while ago noticed the lights of Fredericton, Nova Scotia, sparkling in the distance. As they receeded beyond the horizon, I realized that we were now over the North Atlantic for good, part of a never ending stream of passenger and cargo jets, yet seemingly alone over this vast expanse of water. The night was smooth, but then, so was the night of April 15th, 1912, and equally as black as this one, as we crossed that fateful stretch of water off Newfoundland where the Titanic had found her watery grave. With Lisa Torban's eerily haunting and evocative version of "Darkness, Darkness" in my mind, I drifted away.

I opened my eyes again ten minutes later, or so it felt. The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the cabin, always something nice to wake up to. Ahead in Business class, I could see light shining in through the cabin windows. Interested to find out where we were, I opened the blinds at my seat. Big Mistake! It was so bright outside that I instinctively flinched, recoiling from the light like a vampire (not the Twilight kind, mind you!). After ensuring that I would not turn to dust, I opened the blinds again and looked out. The rugged western coast and rolling green hills of Ireland were passing by below. It was not just any part of the emerald isle, it was the Iveragh Peninsula in Co. Kerry, where I had fallen in love with Ireland just three years earlier. Little did I know then how important Ireland would become for me just one year later.
By the time the breakfast service had completed, we were gearing up for our final approach into Heathrow. That approach was just as chaotic as the ground layout at the airport itself. We did a couple of holds before finally being cleared to land on Runway 27 Left. After what felt like an eternity, we docked at Terminal 3, and the great transfer rally began again.
This time, it was nowhere nearly as easy as the first time around. I just missed one of the transfer buses, and had to wait for ten minutes. I felt a bit tired and hung over, probably the stress of the trip that had finally caught up with me. At least, this time around, the bus driver wasn't a closet jihadist! While on the transfer bus, I noticed something else. We were getting close to a baggage tractor pulling a solitary baggage cart behind him. As we slowly passed him, I noticed something peculiar. Sure enough, on top of the other bags and suitcases on that cart, there was my suitcase. Good thing I put that sticker on it, made the suitcase immediately recognizable. And, to be honest, who can claim to have passed your own suitcase?
In Terminal 5, things took a turn for the worse. Only three security checkpoints were open, and these three took their time processing the waiting masses of passengers. I started to sweat, as my connection this time around was REAL tight. Once their lordships had finally gotten around to checking me, it was high time to make my way to the gate. Thanks to the wonderfully structured layout of Terminal 5, I almost ended up on the shuttle train to one of the Terminal satellite piers before I finally found my gate, hidden behind an array of shops. I can't help thinking about a quote in Arthur Hailey's novel "Airport": Heathrow is a mess like only the British could manage. So true. I'll try to avoid that airport whenever possible from now on. 

My ride home. Never before or since has a British Airways aircraft looked so attractive to me.

The flight to Frankfurt was fully booked, leaving me to make do with an aisle seat. Well, at least I could stretch my legs out in the aisle, something that is impossible for me otherwise on British Airways. Anyways, the flight was only supposed to be about an hour anyway, so no worries... Until we entered a holding pattern over the German border. Someone up high was definitely having fun at my expense! My mood wasn't improved when the Captain came on over the PA and announced that Frankfurt was currently closed due to weather, as they had a thunderstorm sitting right over the airport. The delay would be about 30 minutes. Great! Just Great! Well, at least the catering was fool proof again. Potato chips and coke. 
After our time in hold purgatory had passed, we began our descent into Frankfurt. We passed right over the town where I lived at the time, easily recognizable due to the phalanx of wind turbines surrounding it. The landing on Runway 25 Left was hard, as was the braking action. I have no Idea where we were parked, nor did I care at that point. Neither did I care about the fact that we were shuttled over what felt to be half the airport in shuttle buses. As if to make things worse, When I arrived at the immigration checkpoint, only one position was open, despite a whole barrage of flights having just landed. It took a while before the German Federal Police decided to show some mercy and opened another two checkpoints. After getting my luggage, I was so tired that I only wanted to get home.
The next day, it became clear why I had felt so weird after landing at Heathrow. I woke up with a full blown cold, one that would knock me out for the rest of my vacation. I guess I've always had a thing for unusual souvenirs. In retrospect, I probably picked up the bug because of the countless changes between the hot outside and the brutally cool interiors.
Still, this trip was a dream come true for me. New York City is a place that needs to be seen to be believed. It is one thing to read about it, see it in movies, or hear the numerous songs about the city, from Frank Sinatra or Billy Joel to Jay-Z and Alicia Key, but to actually see it live is something completely different. Now, more than ever, I'm in a New York State of Mind!