My god, I think everybody at this hostel has a Mac.

Anyway,  this bit was written at Newark Airport.

“Please keep bags and packages with you at all times, until they are checked.” Oh, thanks for that last bit. I mean, I did say to the woman at the check-in counter that I couldn’t give her my luggage to be put on the plane because I had to keep it at all times, but then she pointed out that it was checked, and so I could safely hand it over.

Anyway, after a bemusing half-lucid dream featuring a conspiracy against me and my attempts to wake up from the dream because I had a plane to catch, I woke up at 7:15, had a shower, went down to the lounge and surfed the web for a bit, before presenting myself at the front desk at 9:15 to board the shuttle to the airport, which I had ordered the previous day for 9:30.

“Oh, hey, you ordered a SuperShuttle? That already left, man. Hey, you should call them, maybe?”

No. No time, not faffing about on the phone. Contingency! Three hours to get to the airport and I had no idea how long it would take. I hurried to Times Square 42nd St Station, caught a 3 train to Penn Station, learnt the intricacies of the US rail system in about two minutes (apparently the designers thought it sensible to include no fare or destination or time or platform information anywhere in the station, and furthermore, as a useful aid to passengers, Newark Penn Station should have a single name sign measuring a foot square so you know where you are), boarded a train, got to Newark Liberty International Airport Station after nearly getting off at Newark Penn Station, checked in at a kiosk, got the Airtrain to Terminal 3 and, a little over an hour after I left the hostel, was ready to go, so my initial fear was unwarranted, but still it is a very sensible idea to have a contingency plan for any plausible situation and thus I did the right thing and this sentence is increasingly too long and so I shall stop.
I do love the accent of those Brooklyn/Long Island(?) women. “Oh Gawud!”

An uneventful flight touched down at Chicago O’Hare airport, named after a Navy pilot who shot down a wing of Japanese planes in WW2. It is the busiest in the world, but I’ve heard that said about LAX, Heathrow, and Tokyo Haneda, so I don’t trust anyone anymore. Anyway, the designers obviously decided it should be impossible to get around so they put in moving walkways that don’t move, signs that point in every direction except the right one, elevators to nowhere, and maps that bear no correlation to reality. After half an hour of searching, I finally got to the train station: admittedly quite atmospheric in silver and blue high-ceilinged cryptness. On the train a woman, bringing her son back from somewhere, chatted to me about Chicago and the food festival they (and I) are going to and such, which went some way to alleviating the bad welcome I’d got at O’Hare.

Found my way to the hostel pretty easily, and whoa, what a hostel. I walked past it because it looked more like a hotel. Inside a massive entrance lobby I signed in and headed up to the expansive dorm, where I decided to go stick my contact lenses in,.

Contact lenses nowhere to be found. I searched and searched, but to no avail. I can only assume that … well, I dunno. Maybe I left them in New York, maybe they fell out while being baggage handled. I have next month’s with me, so it’s not a problem, just a bother. Got a new case for $3 from the local equivalent of Boots.

I think a lot of the people in my dorm are solitary travellers like myself, which is kinda nice. It’s always depressing when everyone else around you is in a large animated group having fun. Pfft. This hostel has a load of events going on, so I might sign up for the tour tomorrow. I appear to have completely by accident arrived the day before STEVIE FRIGGIN’ WONDER is going to play for FREE. Ohhh yeah.