Thursday, 25th February, Newark: snow way you’re leaving tonight
New York has been a perfect quarantine for us before we head back to the wonderful madness of the UK. I have friends who I love in New York, one of whom gave us her sumptuous flat near Union Square, and we have spent time catching up with old friends, laughing and generally behaving like we have never been away. After 8 months of living with virtually nothing, feeling like I was becoming less materialistic (“All my crap can fit into two small bags. What more could I possibly need when I get home?”), there really is nothing like New York for restoring a rampant consumerism.
After the relative mental difficulty of Buenos Aires, New York has been a breeze. One week here and it feels like nothing has changed, like we never left here to set off on our self-indulgent odyssey.
Except of course that I got a cold the minute we landed.
We’re now in the plane. Sitting here. At the stand. After initial delay, we taxied out to the runway, then just as we got to the front of the queue, the captain came on and said that we had to go back to the stand because there was an issue with the de-icer. Now, an hour and a half later, the snow is inches thick on the wing and gathering at the base of the windows like some cheesy Christmas scene. It’s difficult to make any shapes out beyond the wing. We’re not going anywhere.