New York City, NY
Our wonderful New York friends helped us by driving into the city in front of us. We followed them, until he decided he would go straight to work and not to his mother's house. We took Queensborough Bridge (59th Street bridge) to Queens and found his mother's address. He had given us the wrong address. She was sitting on the porch of another building. She told us that she didn't want us to park in front of her building, and that cars get damaged, stolen, and ripped apart there all the time. She didn't want to feel responsible. Her son, if he was her son, had been totally wrong about his mother and the safety of her street. It changes my impression of him lots.
We decided to look for a garage nearby. This was a BAD neighborhood. I can't imagine it much worse, I even thought the Harlem Riot was going to start there in Jamaica Avenue. We couldn't find anything and headed for Long Island, to park way out in the small town part of Long Island. But we passed JFK and decided to check the price. Jill said before that it would be too expensive. She was wrong. Long Term parking was five dollars the first night and two dollars each additional night. Plus, the subway was right there. So we parked and went to the city. The subway was good functionally, but a little confusing.
(I have a lot of respect for myself as a person. To maintain this respect, I feel the need to control myself. Whether it be by not eating, breathing, drinking soda, alcohol, not smoking-not conforming to someone else but staying what I believe in. I don't care if my standards are wrong. I want to remember my focus.
It is Saturday night, 1:20 am. John, Lars and I are going to bed now, and Jill and Linda are already sleeping in the other room. I'm tired physically (not mentally, there isn't much I've seen yet that is too mentally stimulating).
1992