Work America '97

I spent the next seven or so hours looking at fluffy clouds, but as we descended into New York, I started to see tiny houses, and a great spit of sand jutting out into the ocean. Before long, we were landed at JFK. We'd been warned about customs, and not unjustifiably. I spent what seemed like an eternity being questioned by a very thorough immigration officer, but was eventually allowed through. We waited in a badly organised group for a coach, and played a sort of "musical coaches" game, involving everyone getting on various wrong coaches.

We had a guided tour into Manhattan, seeing the lights of Chrysler building, Empire State building and such. Our destination was the dorms of Columbia University, where I very quickly fell into a deep and peaceful slumber. After an excellent breakfast the next morning, the people with pre-arranged jobs set off on their way, while I set about the task of job-hunting. I'd armed myself with a stack of Résumé's, and proceeded to find the jobs section of the New York Times and a telephone. The day passed, and I checked into the New York youth hostel on Amsterdam Avenue, and continued my job-hunting the next day. By the third day, I had the occasional "we'd like to see you" type of thing, but all so far ahead. We were talking about a week here. This was bad. I wanted a job. And I wanted it yesterday!

At which point, I sauntered into the BUNAC office. Could I drive? Was I 25? Great! They had a job for me as a driver on a summer camp. I spoke to the office manager, a lady called Ferrel Porcelli who was to be my taskmaster, as it were. It was long hours. It was diverse. But I'd get plenty of chance to do things like water-skiing and stuff. And time off in lieu of long hours. And so I found myself on the Bonanza Bus up to Massachusetts.

I was collected from the town of Lee, Mass. after having had a Dunkin' Donut (are you really from England? Do you know the Queen? Oh your accent is so cute! etc etc). As we pulled in the gates, my initial thoughts were that it was a dump, but to be fair, this was pre-camp, and there was a lot of work to be done. And so I worked and shovelled and dug and humped and raked and brushed. And ate. And drank. And slept. And went to the Mall. And then I encountered Mike Fuller. I'm trying to find an alternate word to describe him, but no. I cannot. The word to sum him up is... wanker. An English member of the management team who's been there for several years, his sole purpose in life to embed his tongue deep in the rectums of the directors, while at the same time embedding his boot deep in everyone else's! He was to be my Nemesis through the whole camp.

Camp started, and I met Ferrell. The first couple of weeks were fine. It was hard work, but I'd expected it. And Ferrel gave me interesting work. Two weeks passed. And then Ferrel left. At this point, you have to understand that Ferrel had been there for ages. Years and years as their office manager. She was good at it. She held the office together. And yet, like all their staff, they didn't appreciate her. And they pushed her... until she went. Couldn't take the crap anymore.

And so it was me, responsible directly to the directors. It was all downhill from there. They'd send me out on tasks without co-ordinating with each other, and then blame me. The office became stressed because no-one knew what they were doing without Ferrell. I went a month without a day off. And was then told, on the morning of my day off to work. And it was either start work at 10am, or pack my bags and leave by 11am. Some people had quit by this time, but, (foolishly with hindsight), I was determined to see the bastard through.

(Picture: Typical New England sunset - this one taken over Greylock lake)
I'm writing this section while keeping Nicky from Surrey, who's on duty in the canteen, company.  You can be sure of one thing here; you can always get access to sugar in one form or another. You can't get a drink of water at 10:45 at night, but you can a selection of about 68 different candy bars and ice cream. Hmmmm.... Same thing goes for breakfast..
"More syrup with your fried lard?" Thanks. "Or how about a chocolate glazed, chocolate filled chocolate donut this morning?". That's alright, I'll just stick to a bowl of turkey grease with my hot chocolate that stays in the cup when you turn it upside down.

There's about 30 brits here, all told. Of the ones I know, there is, in the
Office: Belinda from Zimbabwe, Nicki Lucia and Amy from the UK, and Lee from New Zealand. On the maintenance side, there are Kate, Maja, Tom, Mark and Robert from Poland, Patrick from Ireland, Mark from Scotland, Marcus from England, Uri from Russia, Milan from somewhere, and various others of unknown origin.

My parents were expecting me to have a bit of a twang to my accent on my arrival back in England, they'll probably be a bit disappointed. John Ryall, British Camp Driver for many years, has been living in the US, married to an American girl, for about 5 years now. He's just at the phase of sounding Australian that all immigrants from Britain seem to got through before becoming totally Americanized. Although I do find myself using phrases like "parking lot" with alarming regularity. One that I didn't catch onto quickly was "yawall set" (you're all set), which means "done, finished, you can go now". When I first encountered "yawall set", I stood there, momentarily puzzled, wondering, perhaps, if I had turned into a jelly.

Assimilation into "the American Way" came quickly and easily. I experienced no "culture shock". I was just somewhere a bit warmer. New York City is a bad way to start America, although to be precise, I was in Manhattan, right near Brooklyn. Nuff to make you lose a  marble or two, and most of them had. One thing that did surprise me was the appalling lack of social niceties in the service. People there were unnecessarily terse. Here in the Berkshires, they at least attempt some courtesy, but most shop workers are too dull to be of much use.

One example of this is the American phone system. I'd been led to believe it was one of the best in the world. Yeah, the Third World! Anything more than a local call is an expensive nightmare. Want to call the UK from a payphone? "Please deposit $7 for the first 3 minutes". So, bearing in mind that a quarter is the largest coin denomination, that's 28 coins. So a calling card is the only way to go. Which means pressing a minimum of 38 digits. For example, to call a typical number in the UK requires:
1-800-423-8129-29430-52317-1-1-011-44-118-921-6840. Bad news if the number's engaged!
And if something goes wrong, which it frequently does, the operator is usually Hispanic or Mexican, dimmer than a switched off lightbulb, and rude if the question involves any thought process. And if they don't know the answer, they just hang up. Alternatively, if, as is likely, you get through to a menu driven system, you usually have the following options:
"If you'd like to hold for 20 minutes and then be disconnected, press 1. If you'd like to be disconnected now, press 2. Please make your choice now". Bah!

One thing they have got right is the cars. It's not surprising that public transport is not so popular, especially in the more rural areas, although of course land layouts and demographics account largely for this. The cars are so big and comfortable. Armrests, cup holders, coin holders, pen holders, air-conditioning, ABS brakes, cruise control power windows, power mirrors, auto gearbox...just about everything to keep you from staying awake at 65 mph, which seems to be the speed limit. (Except in Montana, where they just don't have a speed limit. But no-one lives there anyway).

The weather is quite spectacular here. Being in the mountains, the temperature difference can be as much as 40 degrees F between night and day. We've had days as high as 102, and nights as low as 60. Some days can be ridiculously humid as well, which plays a large part in the misery factor. 102 degrees in dry heat is fine, but with 90% percent humidity is just unbearable. To give an indication of the humidity, the de-humidifier on the car air conditioning probably extracts at least a pint of water in ten minutes. You can usually guarantee a spectacular storm every week. The roads flow like rivers, and the sky lights up as if on fire. The first big storm we had produced a cloud which flickered orange for nearly 25 minutes continuously. It was like the sky was on fire. People stood and watched, but no-one can explain it. I assume it was just a continuous electrical discharge within the cloud. We also had a tornado touch down about a mile from camp too, bringing about some small-
scale damage. Last weeks storm was the biggest and best yet, with the storm right overhead, and lightning striking just yards away.  The weather can change from bright sun to flash flood in just 15 minutes, but can also bring with it some spectacular sunsets.

The police farce [sic] is a law unto itself. If a citizen wishes to cut his hedge, you can usually guarantee at least 15 cop cars and a pack of sniffer dogs to wave the traffic by. It's not unusual to see 5 or 6 speed traps a day on travels around this part of New England. Which means that a radar detector is almost mandatory, and at $29 dollars, I invested too. They have "catch you out" speed limits, where a wide open road will have a limit change from 55 to 25 for a few hundred yards, and you can bet there's a speed trap just around the corner. The police developed a radar detector detector. So the radar detector manufactures developed an anti-radar detector detector. But the police now use pulse radar, where they only zap a car they think is speeding. I myself have been caught out, but I was let off, because I work for Greylock, and so do most of the chiefs of police for this area! Incidentally, speeding tickets are the main source of revenue for the police, if that helps you comprehend.

Camp philosophy is something of an anathema. It seems to be all about dollars and false altruism. I caught a kid late on night trying to untie a boat, cos he really wanted to run away. The next day, I heard the camp director on the phone; "Your son is just loving it here, Mrs Weinbergersteinman....." There is a very obvious hierarchy and division between the American and English staff. "They" can be so cliquey at times, as if we were poisoning "their" camp and country. Nope, it's just that the contract would break minimum wage laws for Americans. That's why we're here! Great advantage is taken of the fact that there is virtually no contract in camps, and they over-hire, and then fire at will, leaving many foreign staff broke, and having to go back home feeling bitter. The kids themselves seem to enjoy it, and so they should...it's cost their parents nearly a thousand dollars a week! There are many activities, and this is primarily a sports camp.

One reason the counsellors who DO return each year do so is because of the wonderful feeling of appreciation and respect you get from the campers. If you can make them play baseball just that little bit better, or to water-ski for the first time, it really does seem worth it. This really is a "rich-kids camp", and as such, I was concerned that it was just going to be 400 spoilt brats. But I was wrong. There are some very interesting and intelligent kids here. Some of them know perhaps a little too much for their age as we might think, but it doesn't seem to have done them any harm! Yesterday, I gave Zachary and Charlie a lift to Logan Airport in Boston. They are both ten years old, and look like sweet innocent little angels. They were heading back to LA, and we were discussing the riots of 4 years ago. Not only were they fully aware of the whole situation, but came out with little gems like...

"I think the police think they can get away with it. I mean, King didn't deserve that beating. But they don't give a flying fuck what happens. They suck like a cheap whore...badly!" That was quoted verbatim. Bearing in mind these were pre-pubescents with un-broken voices, it was a moment that I wish I could have captured on tape. But they said I was "real neat! The best!", and so, with happy heart and full fuel tank, I turned around, and proceeded to sit in the Boston traffic for 2 and a half hours.....

The camp is in quite a good location. The nearest towns, Pittsfield and Lee, are 20 miles away, although there are village shops and post offices nearby. Boston is about 150 miles North, and New York City about 250 miles south. The campers get to go on four day trips to places like cape cod and Canada, or a night on the town in Boston.

American mechanical engineering seems to be built big, ugly, and purely functional. Which is also how they seem to build their middle aged women. But impressive as well. I sat at a railroad crossing, and decided to count the goods wagons on the passing train. 97 wagons pulled by four locomotives took 2 minutes and 35 seconds to pass. Oh dear...I hope I'm not turning into a trainspotter!

Well, I guess I'm down to making random observations now, like "why do they pronounce Nissan knee-son, or Honda Honday?". Also have anomalies like being able to do a right turn against a red light, except in New York City, where pedestrians get a "Walk" sign, at the same time as the crossing traffic gets a green signal.

It may be that I'm sounding ungrateful to be here in the USA. That's not the case. I'm in a position many would envy. I have many many more places to go, and things to see and do. But I leave you for this time with the thoughts of some maintenance staff of previous years, which, along with the "Welcome to Hell" signs, weave a rich tapestry of indelible ink on the bunk walls......

Today is possibly the worst day of my life so far. I'm lying here in the infirmary, just to get away from Michael Marcus, feeling more exhausted than ever before. I've had 3.5 hours sleep in the last 36 hours, and nearly killed myself, and four others, on the road....and why?
On Thursday Morning I was up at 8am, and worked through the day. In the evening, the kid's luggage needed sorting out, but it all turned into a big unorganised mess, leading to my arrival back at the camp from the airport after midnight. I was then told to be in the office at 5am. I arrived on time, and yet had NOTHING to do until 7, when I just portered a couple of bags 50 yards. At 10, I did the mail run. On my return, I was told that I had to take 3 kids to Scarsdale, New York, a round trip of 270 miles. I protested my tiredness, so they sent someone with me....who couldn't drive. During the next 6 hours, I consumed countless cups of coffee, even some cigarettes I found, in a desperate effort to stay awake. And yet I still kept blacking out for half a second at a time, and in the moments in-between, the road was just a dizzy blur. I would not have even thought of driving myself 5 miles when I was that tired, let alone sending someone else's sons on a 135 mile journey. I'd just like to know:
Why couldn't one of the maintenance guys have gone on the baggage run the night before? I wasn't driving either way.
Why was I needed at 5am?
Why couldn't someone else have gone with the kids? and..
Why do they never take responsibility for there own actions/mistakes?
I am now exhausted, and yet unable to sleep, worrying about the lives that may have been lost, including my own, simply because of other peoples inability to manage.

One thing that sort of took the edge off today's nightmare was the following note, written on my HPC, by Jessie X, one of the 3 X brothers I was taking to New York. I think it's fairly revealing...

>From the desk of Jesse X,
        Today was the last day of camp.  I was originally supposed to go on the Westchester Bus which left at 6:45 AM.  But the office fucked up and told me that my parents were picking me up at 10:30 AM.  I woke up this morning and Jed was gone.  He had already been picked up by his parents.  He woke everyone up but me and gave me the finger while I was sleeping.  What that stupid fuck doesn't know is that I have his expensive fitted hat and I'm not giving it back.  It's a nice hat and I'll enjoy wearing it. Anyway, after he left, I had fun writing with a pen on his cubby, Jed "has no friends" Cohen was here in '97.
Goodman and I played in their bunk while I was waiting for my Mom and Dad.  Unfortunately I found out soon enough that I was going home in a van with my brothers with Kevin Edgar and a cool driver named Jon Horniblow.
So far, we've listened to cool music and made a pit stop at Burger King for lunch.  So here I am now writing this document in this camp van with everyone sleeping but Jon and myself.  I'm getting pretty tired myself so I guess I'll go to sleep now.  See ya' next year!
                        Bye,
                          Jesse X

Camp then proceeded to be it's usual unpleasant self for a while. I asked if I could do some post-camp, as I needed the money. I was told "yes" by MRM, but when Michelle found out, I was told that "I could take my name of that list for a start". When I argued and started pointing out what MRM had said, Fuller chipped in and told me that he'd be "taking bet's as to whether I got post-camp work or not"
I knew I was doomed.

Tuesday 25th August 1997. I arose at 6am this morning, and proceeded to assemble my maths paper for sending to the UK. Lukas Horn came to me at breakfast and asked me for a word. I wasn't sure what he wanted, but then Fuller came and was obnoxious, and I knew something was wrong. I was put to me that I had driven the local Chief of Polices' daughter around, and bought alcohol for her. She is 17. I denied it immediately, as I was not responsible, but they would not listen to me, and gave me no opportunity to speak
Things became nasty, and I was threatened in various ways, and watched as I packed. Eventually, Amy, one of the office girls, overheard. The next thing I knew, 8 others had quit, leaving Camp Greylock in a bad position for post camp staff.

During the next hour, my innocence was established, and my job was offered back. I did, of course, decline.

We all went to Lee and Pittsfield. Some went with an American friend of their's, and the remaining 7, including myself, hired 2 cars...one from Rent-a-Wreck, for $27.50, and one from Hertz for $150. We are now sitting in a Motel in New York...sleazy as hell! It has a 24hour porn channel, mirrors on the ceiling, and cockroaches on the bed...but hey! it's cheap...tomorrow is another day..

Tomorrow came, with some surprises. First thing in the morning, at 5am, Joseph Benesh went and dropped off Kevin Minnott at JFK for his flight, and Amy at the Hotel where her trek was to start from. After awakening later at 8.15 to find the porn channel still fully active, and Uncle Fester watching fixated, we arose, and departed our charming abode. We went to drop some people off at the Port Authority Bus station, where things started getting interesting. We bumped into not only Tomask Guzda, but also Sarah and Louise from Camp Romaca (Greylock's sister camp) AND Marcus Hawker, who was travelling with Lucia Dello Ioio. Joseph and myself dropped the Hertz rental car off at JFK, agreeing to meet the others later.

We met at the NorthEast corner of Central Park, packed 7 of us into the Rent-a-Wreck Chevvy, and proceeded to grind our way to the Malibu Studios Hotel, where Marcus and Lucia had a $70 room. We paid for an extra 2 to stay at $15 each, and goodness only knows how, but managed to sneak the other 3 in. So we ended up with 7 people in a 7' X 5' room. Two people on each single bunk bed, and three on the floor. I kid you not. But not bad at $8 each for a central location.

That evening, before retiring to our particular micron of sleeping space, we ventured out onto Broadway, where we ate far too much Pizza, and proceeded to catch a sub to Times Square, where we drank in "The Irish Pub", and took a walk, dazzled by the lights, street musicians, and shops full of electronic gizmo's, most of which were half the price I'd paid for them in Mass. Ho Hum.

Next day, we parted ways, and I drove with Tomask and the two female Polish friends of his, to New Jersey, where he was to pick up his DriveAway to Dallas. The lucky bastard only went and got a brand new Toyota Lexus, with cream leather interior, electric everything, Nackamichi stereo, walnut trim, and 104 miles on the clock. Damn!

Marcus and I then went back to Becket, where I had to return the rent-a-wreck. He stayed with his friend Brehan, and I stayed in an expensive, but very pleasant Motel in Lee for four nights at $55 a night. Ouch! However, it allowed me to watch some TV for the first time since arriving. It was certainly an experience. With corny local adverts for the store just down the road it had a quaint aire about it, but some of the mainstream was fairly bad too. I STILL cannot work out if the Jenny McCarthy Show is auto-referential satire or what...but if it's rally meant to be a sitcom...God help us!

It was interesting to watch the original "Price is right", "Supermarket Sweep", and QVC. I notice they go a big bundle on stuff like Mr Bean... in fact, anything with Rowan Atkinson in it. The radio is an alternative of sorts, but you have 2 choices... National Public Radio (quirky but educational), Country Music (AAAARGHHH!), or stations that play the same 7 songs over and over and over and...

At around 10pm on the night on the 30th, I heard some breaking news on the television. As the evening developed, the story intensified, and many cable TV channels dropped normal programming to show CNN or similar. Then, just after midnight, the first rumours started coming from the NewsWires into the studio. And then, about an hour after that, came the confirmation... Diana was dead.

I must admit, I was stunned. It wasn't until the next day that the weight of the whole situation sunk in. It may be corny, but whatever you think of her, she did some good...not to the monarchy, but to good causes. A friend emailed me the next day, saying "...except that Diana, Princess of Wales has been murdered by Mossad, MI6, the FBI or Hammas...". I wonder......

After four nights, I decided that I'd "done" expense for a while, and, on Labor Day, found a Motel in Springfield. The bus journey was $10, and the taxi another $10, but the motel was $20 less anyhow. And boy, does it show! Called the "Knights Inn", it's in a part of West Springfield that I'd not care to spend too much time in. Coming straight from the 50's, the entire road is covered in sleazy motels, and places like "Bob's Auto Discount Plaza", with neon signs that got smashed 20 years ago, and no-one really cares. There's a pool, but I'm not contemplating ending my life enough to risk a swim.

That afternoon, I decided to walk the mile to the movies. Not pedestrian friendly at all, I spend most of my time teetering on the edge of the highway, being buffeted by fat old men and their fat grumbling wives, driving 96' long 8000 HP Winnebago monstrosities. Eeek!
After having seen the very cheesy "Mimic", I strolled into the Super Stop'n'Shop, and to my delight, found that they stocked Twinings English Breakfast tea. Marvellous. Went and bought some. Didn't think about how I was going to make a cup, but I managed, somehow. Also found, to my disappointment, that Staples had reduced the Cassiopeia by $100, but they said they'd sort it out anyhow.

I walked back to my motel, and switched on the TV, to learn that Di's chauffeur was twice over the legal drink limit, and doing 105 mph when he crashed. Which means that the paparazzi may well get of lightly.

It's Labor Day evening now and the cicadas are chirping away in their trees. At this point in time, I expect to head back to New York City on the 3rd, possibly meet up with Marcus, and then meet my brother at JFK on the 4th. We leave for Philly on the 5th, and from there on, it's onto the rockies, a weeks car hire to take in Los Angeles, Las Vegas, and San Francisco, and then a "do-as-much-as-we-can-with-whats-left-of-the-time-a-thon".

 I awake to find David telling me it's 6am, and we'd managed to sleep through 3 alarms. A mad dash to the station ensued, but we got the train, which had backwards facing seats, and a backwards steward, who told us the front facing seats were "only for smokers". Positive discrimination, or what...

We arrived on time in Philly, PA, and stepped from the train to find a fantastic piece of architecture in the shape of the station concourse. Shortly after leaving the station, we found that this was to be the way things were. Founded by William Penn, the town is steeped in history, and justly proud too. After being recommended breakfast in the Down Home Diner, we went to watch Chubby Checker, who was playing a promo for the Penn lottery.

We then went to the liberty bell, town hall, and the site of Benjamin Franklin's house. This is such a lovely city... had I arrived here from the UK, I'd have definitely stuck around to find work; It's just crisp and clean and light and friendly We headed back to the station, grabbed something to eat on the train, and prepared to board. 

We were shepherded onto the train, which had more room than the last, but I still wasn't really impressed. The windows were badly pitted and scratched, but the guard made a good job of announcing points of interest that we were missing. When sleep time came, it was disappointing to find that the chairs only reclined about 38.157 degrees (roughly). So David slept on the floor, and I proceeded to see what the least painful neck angle was, but failed to find it. Then lights out came, in name, if not nature. The main side lights went out, leaving just the 5 MegaWatt halogens burning in the middle of the car. 2 notes for next time I travel Amtrak... eye cover and blanket. Oh... and become smaller!

Morning came, and brought with it a change of time; back one hour to Central Time. The rising sun illuminated some nasty factories, and huge farms. But miles passed, and we were soon backing into Chicago's 30th St Station.

(Picture: Chicago)
WOW! What a city! It felt like what I imagine Miami to be like. The sun was blazing in a crystal clear blue sky, and we exited the ornate station plaza and almost immediately found ourselves at the foot of the Sears tower, the country's tallest building. After watching an excellent video presentation, we boarded the express elevator, and went up 110 floors in 1 min 20s, just a little slower than the World Trade Centre. Again, the view was more stunning than I'd imagined. Chicago is HEYUUUGE!  Bordering lake Michigan, the climate seemed perfect on that day. After spending the regulatory time in awe, we proceeded to the waterfront, by way of a tram station, where I accidentally left my old-school hip-hop tape with da funky blackman der, and confused the hell out of a server in McD's, (even though I tried to keep the sentence down to monosyllables). After taking an excellent waterfront tour, we headed toward the aquarium/oceanarium, with a very impressive collection of things that glowed, flashed, metamorphosed, and changed colour. Or was that just the after-effect of too much Dyphedryl the night before? Then came the dolphin show, with four performing dolphins who were very well trained. We made a mad dash back to the station, via a crew filming Michael Jordan, and caught the train.

Saturday the 6th Sept. Pm.

Ahhh, this is better. A much more pleasant train awaited us, and we were soon installed into the top deck of the double decker coaches. The pleasant guard cheered everyone up with his witty announcements, and generally slow, but very pleasant way of speaking. "Now y'all should listen to this safety bit now, 'case we get a crisis wiv da choo-choo!"

We're currently clattering our way through flat fields of corn... just passing a train with 130 wagons full of the stuff. Not much to look at, but for some reason... I don't care! The landscape is already starting to look very mid-westerly. The sort of place you'd imagine an alien abduction film being set! It's nice not to be rushing around for a change. We have now finalised the rest of our itinerary, and looking forward to picking up the hire car tomorrow. The time is now 6:30, we have a video, "George of the Jungle", to follow in an hour, and dinner for 8:45. I think I'm finally beginning to recover from Greylock!

I was asleep, when I was awakened by a violent juddering, and the train stopping abruptly. I thought that maybe it was antilock brakes or something, but they wouldn't have done much...the train wasn't on the track...the juddering was wheels on sleepers! Various explanations were offered by people, mainly that either the points hadn't switched properly, or that one of the rails had collapsed. Either way, the three cars in front of mine were leaning at about 20 degrees, with mine just having jumped off the rails. Fortunately, we were only going about 20 mph, but the odd thing was that David was only commenting that evening about how surprised he was that the train didn't come off the track more!

So here we are, in the Ramada Plaza Hotel, Lincoln, Nebraska. We've been put in the conference hall, and are sitting on a table of 8, which includes Ron and Jane Carter, from Dayton who are on vacation, and Deirdre and Tania, two Work America participants from Ireland. It's just been announced that it might be a long wait!

8:15am... Finally, a coach arrives, and we board. At 9am, we stop for breakfast, paid for by Amtrak. A fantastic "all you can eat" buffet at a Truck Stop Diner called "Grandma Max's" in Hastings, Nebraska. We all had more than we could eat, and took a plastic bag full back onto the coach! We then chatted with the other passengers, and ate. I tried to sleep but the coach was quite noisy, and it was very bright outside. And boring. I sampled the radio every now and then when I'd tired of watching endless trucks rumble by. Country music, or a preacher, usually called Jim, suggesting that you walk the path of righteousness with him, by taking advantage of his free video. Oh... and a mandatory minimum donation of $56. Plus handling. Praise the lord for credit cards!!!

Just as our nerves were fraying, we finally caught site of the Rockies in the distance. Before long, we were back in Denver, and having wangled a taxi to the airport from Amtrak, I went and collected the rental car. Upon arrival, I was asked if I'd mind taking a full-size, instead of a compact, at no extra charge. Oh...no thanks, I think I'll just stick with the Nissan Micra. Duh!
 

I oozed out of the car park in the 3 litre V6 Ford Taurus, and met up with Tanya, Deirdre and David at the La Quinta Motel, where they'd been playing  Nintendo, whenceupon, we hit the town. We were in luck as it was the town event week, so we watched some bands, and went for a meal. At this point, I observed that there seemed to be a large number of gentlemen sporting moustaches, and funny leather caps and chains, and mincing a lot. And then our waiter asked us what entertainment we were seeking... "Gay bar, Sir?". We continued to strut in a heterosexual way along the sidewalk, glad of the female company, and found our way to a bar where some funky jazzmen were doing a jam session, after which we decided to take a drive around Denver, and get lost for 66 miles.

Next morning, we parted company with the chicks, and started out for the rockies. Driving through some spectacular passes, with me making full use of the Taurus's roadholding capabilities, we ploughed our way towards our first main destination.....the Grand Canyon.

We awoke at 5am, having spent the night in Durango. We really needed to press on, given the time frame to which we were working. As we got near the Canyon, we entered Indian territory, with numerous roadside stalls selling blankets etc. There were lots of little mini-canyons around, but then we hit The Big one. There was a $20/car entrance fee, but it was worth it. The size and depth is incredible, and so was the number of English people there. We fired off ample amounts of film, and after being constantly reminded of the shortness of time by David, we pressed on.

After a couple of hundred miles, we saw signs for the Hoover Dam. Well, if Beavis and Butthead can do it, so can we! It was at this point that personalities really started to conflict. There was some embarrassing shouting during which David said fuck frequently and loudly, but I won, and we went on a tour of the Dam.. Enough concrete in that there thing to build a highway from the East Coast to the West coast of America. If that sort of thing impresses you.

Las Vegas was our last point of call that day. We arrived just as light was fading, and it really was an experience no-one should miss. We parked the car, for free, and went the explore. We hit the MGM Grand, the biggest Hotel in the World, and as we entered, I must confess I have never seen anything on such a scale. Thousands upon thousands of slot-machines. The lights, the sounds, the money...the chicks! David went and put a quarter in, and got $2 back, while I went and lost a dollar! I was surprised at how dirt cheap everything was...rooms, food, souvenirs etc. OK, so they make their money from the suckers who plays then slots, but good value for the astute traveller anyhow! Las Vegas is definitely not one to miss!

We left the glittering city, and headed back into the dessert. We drove for about three more hours, passing through places like "Nevada Landing". These are weird places. 30 miles of desert, and then suddenly a pool of lights with maybe 2 or three HUGE gambling palaces and a gas station, and then...nothing. Only in America...

We stopped the night in the middle of know-where, and then rose early the next morning heading for LA. As we passed over the final mountain into yet another enormous plain, we saw a brown haze, and realised it must be the smog; we had plenty of time to savour the air as we sat in McDonalds surrounded by lush palms, and a policemen's convention. Then the real sightseeing began! We wound our way up through the narrow and intricate streets of the Hollywood hills, until we were as near to the Hollywood sign as it's possible to get, and took too many photos. But again, time was pressing us along so, we drove to the junction of Hollywood and Vine,, and headed through Compton. I put the radio ion, and I have to say, West Coast radio  is the best I've heard yet. Although record producers seem obsessed with the use of vocoders, that little box of tricks that makes a voice sound a little bit "Metal Mickey". Remember..."California, knows how to party!" After coming out of the area alive, we drove down long Beach, and I stopped to dip my fingers into the pacific...just because!

Taking the highway out of LA, we soon hit the desert, which gave me the chance to eat up those miles.
I accelerated to 90, hit the cruise control button, and remained at that speed for about 2 hours...we really needed to be going some, as we had to be getting a bus out of Phoenix at 4.55am on Thursday. Today was Wednesday, and we still had 300 miles to go at 6pm.  We started to hit desert town, and these were some of the most fantastic little Oasis'. Quaint towns, filled with lush palm-lined roads broke the monotony of the desert every once in a while, and it wasn't long before we were in Phoenix, tired but grateful that we'd arrived, and amazed that we'd kept to this gruelling schedule. At this point, David took the train tickets out, had a look at them , and said "OOPS! We're three days early!". I'd not considered murdering a member of my family before, but at this point it almost seemed a reasonable thing to do. As I sat there, I realised all the things we could have done, and all the things we need not have done. I was risking both life and licence by keeping up speeds of over 110 through the desert for 20 minutes at a time, because I thought we were under huge pressure. None of those embarrassing shouting matches were necessary. We could have actually spent more than an hour in the Grand Canyon. Or seen so many more places. Or have had more than 6 hours sleep each night. The deal was that David was in charge of the itinerary, and I was driving all the way, as David, age 24, still can't be bothered to get a driving licence. I'd done my part, and I felt more than just a little bit let down. After making sure that he knew how peeved I was at arriving 2 days early in the hottest city in America, we checked out of the 85 degree 11pm heat, and into a Motel6, and fell asleep.

We awoke to see clouds forming in the sky to the west, and flicked on The Weather Channel, to see an Emergency Bulletin Notice, and warnings to stay inside, as a "Monster Monsoon" was soon to hit. So we got into the car, and headed towards the clouds. Well, we'd paid the CDW, so what the heck! When the rains came, they REALLY came! Most of the roads were flooded 4" deep, but occasionally we'd drive through water as deep as the bottom off the door sills (not by chance, either!). The engine got flooded, but started again before it got too embarrassing. On arrival back in the Motel, we put the local news on to see shots of some guy water-skiing across the local park! Later that night, I saw the best ever episode of the Simpsons yet. I missed the first couple of minutes, but I think it was called "Nightmare Cafeteria" or something, a Halloween special, where Homer's toaster kept making him pop-up in other dimensions...you had to see it.

Nest day, we drove into Sedona, a tourist trap about 150 miles from Phoenix, noted for its stunning rock formations...oh, and the worlds only McDonalds with Teal arches instead of the usual Gold Arches. Worth 300 miles of anyone's time, I'd say.... We dropped off the rental car, it having done 2500, and spent the last night in the motel.

At 6am on Thursday, we found ourselves at Phoenix railway station, waiting for a connecting bus to Tucson, upon arrival at which we boarded the train, which at that stage was only 20 mins late. Desert passed for hundreds of miles, and then the first announcements of delays started coming over the PA. After a while the cumulative delays were 8 hours, as Amtrak abandoned all hope of continuing the service, and put us up in a Hotel. This was good in a way, as we were in need of a shower, and bad as we had to entirely scrap going to Jacksonville, Florida.

The hotel was the Quality Inn in New Orleans, and was, itself very nice. The problem is, New Orleans isn't, Not the sort of place you'd want to walk around alone at night...or day, for that matter. And the taxi cabs...UGH! We offered some English lasses, with whom we'd been chatting on the train, the opportunity of a room, and so they stayed with us.

The alarm call went at 5.15am, meaning a total rest time of 3 hours. We said goodbye to the girlies, and caught a cab to the station. While waiting for the train, we saw an Amish family. We'd seen some Amish before, in the World Trade Centre. I'm not sure what to make of them. They seem so pure and sweet in their 18th C dress, consisting of straw hats and bonnets, and long flowery dresses (for the girls, obviously!). Even the haircuts are the same as they always have been.

The train we boarded was of the single decker type. Although not a swish as the bi-level trains, each car had 17 video monitors showing recent movies, and a music channel which played those easy listening favourites which are just SO bad, you just have to listen!

Everything seemed to be back on track, if you'll excuse the pun, when we came to a halt. Then the announcement was made; 6 wagons of a good train had left the track about 15 miles ahead, and there was no way round... :(

This is what had to happen next. They took the loco off the front of our train, and brought it round to the rear, so we could go backwards to the nearest railroad crossing, where buses would take us onto Manchester. Our Northbound became the Southbound, and vice-versa, with the train going in the other direction. So now we're back northbound with a 5 hour delay. We passed through Atlanta, GA, at about midnight, while a woman in the seat in front raved about it...but I was just SO TIRED! The morning came, and we passed through some very English looking landscape. A prominent feature of the flora around these parts seems to be some stuff called Kudzu, an erosion control plant originally from Japan, but mistakenly brought to the US, and gone totally wild over everything. 

Tuesday , 12:15pm. 21and a half hours until I fly home. I'm so looking forward to it in one way, but disappointed not to have had longer to see it all. As for my reflections on my 3 months and three days here, one things for sure...I'm more cynical than ever. Camp Greylock has shown me that honest hard work really doesn't pay. America is a sharp divide between the dull and gullible, and the sharp money-makers who take advantage of them. Oh, and British Exchange workers, who camp directors assume fall into the former category! Do I sound bitter, perchance?....

So now it's just one more night in NYC, and then up to Newark, New Jersey, to catch the plane outta here!

We arrived at Penn Station at 6:30pm, 5 hours late of course (wouldn't have it any other way!). We then called over 30 hostels and hotels in NYC, only to find them all full. We even asked the Amtrak outreach centre, as well as Amtrak themselves, if they'd at least pay part of our cost towards a hotel room. While declining to give us any help with a room, they did give us $150 worth of pizza and beer between the 7 of us! We finally booked into the Holiday Inn Plaza at JFK airport, where we'd booked a $210 room, where we consumed our beverages and sustenance. We stayed up past 3am eating and drinking, until I finally fell asleep with Katie and Julia, while Chris, Steve and Claire slept in the other bed, and David, never one to partake in this sort of thing, slept on the floor.

The next day brought goodbyes, and the half hour bus ride to Newark. I boarded Virgin flight VS002, and sunk back into my chair to enjoy the excellent food, drink and entertainment system. Or I would have, except for the fact that a hyperactive Welsh girl sat next to me, intent on getting totally mullered, as it was her birthday. And she did. And so did I. And then woke up having missed breakfast. D'oh! We landed smoothly, and I was so excited as I stepped of the plane.

A brief wait for baggage, and then I was on the next Railair Link home. It was so nice to see drizzle, and to be called "mate", and to be on the correct side of the road. So nice to be back on trains that run almost to time, and manage to stay on the rails (although a nasty incident near Southall involving a gods train the next day slightly took the edge off that one...). And to drink proper tea. And eat baked beans. And have paper money with different sizes for each denomination. And... oh well. There's a lot of reasons why I prefer England to America.

And will I go back?

Of course!