Yep, the march rocked, and I would love to post all about it, but my mind is stuck underground. We took a bus from DC that got us into NY about 10. We prepped for the ride by spending the afternoon in a bar, knitting and drinking. 4 hours on a gently rocking bus, alcohol slowing down all my mental processes, just about knocked me out. I was as dopey as could be.
Then we passed through the Holland Tunnel. And suddenly I was wide awake and wired. I know I should keep my cool in a new city, try to pretend like I'm not a big yahoo, but I was grinning and craning my neck like crazy. Still, I wasn't really excited until we got onto the subway.
New York has got to be the most mythologized city of American pop culture. Books, movies, television, music, every medium for vicarious living has been pushing me towards this city since I was a kid. The subway entrances are possibly more familiar than BART to me, simply because I've seen so many different characters running down those steps.
Then we came to the platform. Shady characters lurked behind pillars, and I had visions of scottish men wielding swords running into the dark tunnels. We had to run for the train, and we made it on just in time, as a voice said "Stand clear of the closing doors", not quite Soul Coughing's "won't you please stand clear of the closing doors", but close enough for me. The train was not full, but not nearly as empty as it was when Spike fought an epic battle there.
I could go on for days. It's the holy land all over again, where one site lays claim to multiple visions, events, religious extravaganzas. On this one rock, Jesus spit, Mohammed tripped, and Moses juggled. Luckily no one is waging war over their claim on the subways. Can't you just see Buffyites trying to stake the followers of the Scot with the Big Sword? Mayhem, it would be.
There was a crack in the plaster through which you could see brick, and a whole to god knows what through that, that led all the way up to the grime encrusted mosaic at the top. I desperately wanted to take a picture.
I didn't, of course. That's the other curse of New York. I have a desperate urge not to be taken as a tourist, I have to be as cool as Susan while wandering Battery Park. But I can't get rid of my grin...