barely fatal

… made of – paper! This one’s mine, all mine.

Breakfast: Killer “Peasant’s” Omelette
Weather: Hot
Tag line: “Gotta love flight delays”

We checked out early, then we left our luggage at the hotel and went for a little shopping trip right after breakfast. We went straight for Macy’s, and this time we found the Men’s Store. The prices for jeans are incredibly low compared to Europe. We always thought it was a myth or just another urban legend, but it’s true. I got me a pair (no room for more, unfortunately) for $30, paid with my VISA. Later at home when I got the check it read 22 Euros. In Germany you pay about 80 for a pair of Levis’. I know, next time I’ll travel with an empty suitcase.

We spent an hour or so sitting in Bryant Park, and I caught a last glimpse of the Chrysler Building, in my opinion the most beautiful of all the Manhattan skyscrapers. Then we slowly walked back to the hotel. I bought a t-shirt in a small tourist trap with my very last currency. I’m not into baseball (or any ballgames), otherwise I might have jumped at the chance getting original Yankees or Mets apparel.

The taxi ride to JFK (about 3 pm) almost killed me. The cabbie used to accelerate and decelerate rapidly and on every occasion. My stomach can’t stand that style of driving and I had to concentrate to not start puking. When we finally got on the plane I was okay again. The check-in took ages, there was only one line for the Economy Class; two ladies traveled with five or six suitcases each and there was a guy with several pieces of overweight luggage who started to repack right in front of the counter.

The flight started an hour late due to high traffic. We started to worry about our transit in Paris. I tried to sleep on the flight, but I failed. It was too cold, too loud and really uncomfortable. The entertainment system sucked, the sound was horrible, constantly changing from inaudible to brain-shattering loud. I was happy when we finally landed. Technically it was around 4 am – or 10 am in Europe.

Charles De Gaulle is a big airport. With no transit area. Nobody knew where to go. We were late. We had to hurry, really hurry. We, and a thousand other people. We had to leave the security area, pass immigration, cross the airport, go through security again of course – we expected to be last guys on the plane. It was delayed an hour.

Being back in Düsseldorf was somewhat unreal after spending a week in New York, especially with the weird feeling you constantly have because of the bad jet lag. It took me four days to shake it off. Okay, so that was nice, what next, Boston?

And now, finally, the proof. Gosh I hate that photo. And I hate the t-shirt my dad’s wearing, but he loves it, so whatya gonna do.