new apple

I knew nothing about New York. I still know nothing about New York, but when I got here I knew even less.

My knowledge had been gleaned in passing from the world at large, and so everything I had learned was to do with either Frank Sinatra, violent crime or the apocalypse (which according to most films was invariable a combination of the other two). I managed to navigate from the airport to a street in the centre of town fairly easily. Buses are pretty universal and my theory is always to get off at the stop where most people get off.

This had left me next to a big subways station on what would have been a busy street had it not been raining like it might never get the chance to do it again.

I had no plan of where to go. I had an address, but I couldn’t go there yet and hadn’t actually checked any information of places to stay before I left. There was not a great deal of planning prior to getting on the plane.

And so it was that I was standing on fortysomethingth street with rain crashing down around me like it was the blitz. Everywhere I looked people were running for cover, protecting their heads and shouting at one another. I gave up the search for cover after I was moist down to my soul in the space of five seconds; the weather was conspiring to reflect my mood, but the joke was on it. I love a good rainstorm.

There is something fantastic about being helplessly soaked to your skin. Watching the rain hit the street, the ground hidden behind tiny explosions of water. The futility of cover means that all there is left to do is just enjoy it. So I did.

I took my backpack and decided I would walk until the rain stopped and then find a cafe.

The rain took exactly four blocks before it stopped and it did so as if to say ‘go in here’, as I was right outside a small italian cafe which had an aura of absolute welcoming; like the coffee it served was made from good ideas and the cake was baked in the oven of destiny. I went inside to discover that it smelt accordingly, a warm aroma of baked yes was throughout the small room and I sat down on a chair crafted from the finest comfort.

The waitress was beautiful, as all women are who bring food and loveliness into your life; but she was objectively attractive too. Without the tray and the promise of nourishment any man would have made a pass. Except me. I had an address I needed to go to.