0700 hours: I’ve just dropped off a family friend at Newark Airport, NJ. My next mission, pick up the grandparental units from the same airport. Grandparental ETA, roughly 1230 hours. If my complex arithmetic is correct, that gives me roughly 5 hours and 30 minutes of waiting around at the airport—which I deem as too long of a time to be at an airport. Any alternatives? Well, New York City is only a 20 minute train ride away, and there’s probably a little more to do in the Big Apple than there is in Newark Terminal C. Seems like an obvious choice for me, and by 0720 hours, I find myself on a train to the city.
0755 hours: My boots touch the crowd-worn streets of 8th avenue. My eyes wander as my mind-cogs turn, planning what I should do with my 4.5 hours left in the city. Getting bumped in to a couple times as a result of the rush hour traffic must’ve turned on the switch to the light bulb resting above my head—the idea of making a short video on the Christmas festivities planted itself into my head, and my hands reacted immediately as they reached for the record button on my camera. However, before my thumb could begin my mission, my stomach chimed in with a loud grumble. It was time to eat, luckily, a typical New York diner was just across the road. The video would have to wait.
0835 hours: I pay the bill for my breakfast. What did I have you ask? Simple answer: New York style omelette (now including New York style pricing!). I step out into the brisk city air once again, and pull out my camera. After getting footage of the immediate area, the gravitational pull of Rockefeller Center drew my feet towards it from 16 blocks away. The all-too-famous christmas tree there would make great footage. 16 blocks and around 213 turned down invitations for NYC Tour Deals later, I had arrived, and immediately felt belittled by the massive tree. The camera did its job as I ogled at Rockefeller Center and all its majesty.
1100 hours: My camera now has a cornucopia of footage—from the christmas tree to Radio City Music Hall. Content with what I have, I decide it’s about time to head back to the airport. I complete the 16 block walk back, and I turn down yet another remarkable amount of people selling tours—finally I arrive back at Penn Station. After buying an obligatory donut (it’s a rule for when you visit New York), I board my train and bid the city adieu. It’s now time to go back to reality, and to continue my mission at the airport.