New York

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In the Beginning

Kev Duff had moved house to Athlone Avenue, a nice quiet cul-de-sac, in a nice part of Moston.
He invited me around for a coffee and chat and to show off his new abode. Out of the blue he asks me “Do you fancy going to New York”
I am quite taken aback by his request, as Kev has never shown any interest in travelling before.
He goes on to tell me that British Airways have cheap deals on for November, only £209 for a return flight. I tell him to count me in and I will have a chat with Jeff and see if he wants to come.
I speak with Jeff and he is up for it, and Kev persuades Chaddy to come along. Kev then books the flights for 4 of us.
One week later I was astounded to hear that Peter Drury was now onboard and the legend that is Col Killey. Pete had recently bought a house and settled down with long term girlfriend.

I am Legend

What did Churchill say about Russia? It was something along the lines of “Russia is an enigma wrapped up in a mystery” Well this sentence sums up Col Killey.
I have known him since secondary school, with his action man hairstyle and his outrageous lies, he is a real character.
Everyone one who knows Col has a favourite bullshit; here are a couple that stand head and shoulders above his lesser lies.

Easy Tiger

He told everyone he owned a Serbian Tiger pup, and word soon spread about this. Chaddy called to his flat unannounced and obviously he wanted to see his unusual pet. When he asked him where it was, he told him that the Tiger had jumped out his window last week (he lived in a high-rise on the 7th floor) and was never seen again.

Oh behave

My personal favourite:
While on holiday on the sunshine island of Curfu, he was lying on an inflatable mattress in the sea catching some rays and he fell asleep. When he awoke he was alarmed to see that he was quite far out from the coast, Col then paddled back to the now deserted beach. He emerged from the sea wearing only a pair of saddles and a pair of cut down jeans. He headed inland and flagged down a farmer driving a horse and cart. He asked him directions back to the resort. The old man somehow translated to Col that he was not in Greece anymore but was now in Communist Albania!
Col was obviously shocked; but the farmer was helpful and took him to the small resort of Saranda.
Lucky for Col he had a waterproof wallet around his neck with his passport and some cash.
It must be a regular occurrence for sunbathing tourists to float over from Corfu because he had no problems on boarding a boat back across the sea.
In reality if he had really had floated over like he says, he would have been picked up by security forces and taken to prison, and tortured (hopefully) After a couple of days they would have realised that this idiot was not James Bond but was James Pond. Still Col’s tall stories are nothing if not entertaining.

Carry on Abroad

A couple of months before we booked this trip, Col, Chad and Kev had been on a “lads holiday” in Palma Nova (Magaluf or Shag-a-Muff as it was known) Kev had lots of Col stories but the one that stuck out the most was this one: They was getting to ready to go out for the night when Col turned to Kev and said “Kev, could you do me a favour and shave the back of my neck for me” Kev told him in no uncertain terms to “f*ck off”.
He told us that Col was a nightmare to share a room with, and he never stops moaning.
Pete had booked 2 hotel rooms and Jeff and I drew the short straw and we got lumbered with Col. I told Jeff that he was on “neck shaving duty”.

Nightmare at 10,000 Feet

Monday November 7th 1994 and Team Moston are Go. Luckily for us that we all seated together in the middle of the plane but unlucky for Jeff he was sat in the middle of Chad and Col. Soon after take off we started ordering drinks, back in the nineties it was free beer all the way to New York with British Airways. I don’t know about now, but oh boy did we take advantage of it, especially Chad and Col.
We started on Larger but moved swiftly on to the Miniature spirit bottles. Col becoming louder and louder, both him and Chad spilt drinks over Jeff.
Kev and I were giggling and nudging each other while spying on what happening behind us; poor Jeff was not enjoying his flight. He had a break for half an hour when Col went to visit the Cockpit, but then he had to listen to Col go on about how he was going to be Pilot “Hey Jeff it only takes 18 months to qualify, they told me I was Pilot material”
Then Col got in trouble, for shouting “hey you” to a passing air hostess. After 4 hours of solid boozing, we could do it no more; they told us that we had drunk the plane dry. Col quieted down a bit when he got chatting to a pretty girl sat in the row across from him. She was heading home to Boston and invited Col to visit her if he got chance.

Shabba Babba

Touch down at J.F.K and we were all pissed as farts. After collecting our bags, we had a long wait for our Limousine. Pete had phoned and booked it from Manchester Airport, the alcohol had started wearing off and we started to become edgy.
Pete was just about to phone the limo company when the big shiny white beast pulls up, we all pile in and the mood changes to party time.
Jeff asked the driver to put on his New Order type, and as we set off “Confusion” booms out loud in the car. I found a decanter of whiskey in one of the many side panels and we are soon quaffing it back toasting each other, behaving like rock stars. We are Team Moston on tour and we rock!
As I posed for photo with the decanter, it slipped through my fingers, I just managed to catch it on the rim. But I paid a price for my quick reactions, the rim had chipped edges and they cut in to my fingers slicing two of them, they poured in blood.
I tried to stem the tide by tying a tissue around them, everyone looked and laughed at my misfortune.
As we entered downtown Manhatten, Chaddy was leaning out of the window shouting “Shabba” at the busy New Yorkers, who were hustling and bustling about their business.
We stopped at traffic lights, and an “old bum” came over to the limo with his hand out looking for some spare change. Instead of getting money he got a firm handshake and “Shabba” shouted into his face.
We arrived in mid town Manhatten at 5pm, slap bang in the middle of rush hour. The driver had enough of our tomfoolery and decided to dump us on the side walk. He pointed in a vague direction where our hotel was located. (Jeff did not get his type)

Hotel Babyalon

Somehow we walked (staggered) the three blocks to the hotel and checked in.
I first to enter our room, I noticed that there was only 2 beds (double and a single) I dived on the single declared that this was my bed.
Jeff just stared speechless at the double bed but Col went ape-shit “I aint no f**king bender” he raged, his face red with anger. I lay on my bed with the pillow pulled over my face so that Col could not see me laughing; also my fingers had stopped bleeding now so I was feeling much better. After a few minutes of pacing up and down, he made his mind up and marched down to reception.
10 minutes later he was back in the room telling us that he had sorted out the problem. Shortly there was a knock on the door and we received a camp bed, it looked very uncomfortable but Col seemed happy enough that he had won a small victory.
The phone in our room buzzed and I answered it, it was Kev, he told me to come to their room, as he wanted to tell me about what just happened with Col at reception.
Kev tells me: I was in the reception area just browsing the leaflets. I see Col walk into the room and to the front of the queue. He then demands a change of room. They tell that the hotel is booked up and it’s impossible to change rooms. Col then explodes into rant “you expect me to share a bed with another guy, you must be crazy, I aint no F**king Mathatten queer boy”
Everyone is staring at Col; Kev hides round the corner hoping that Col does not see him. Col rants some more then storms off.
I go back to our room; I can’t wait to tell Jeff about our room mates actions.

Empire State Human

After resting up for a few hours, it was dark when we emerged from our hotel and we walked the short distance to the Empire state building. We had just enough time to go up before it closed. We were rewarded with stunning night views of the “Big Apple”.
After a restless night’s sleep I woke to the sound of Col’s voice “Jeff, are you awake?” A minute later I hear Col ask the same question again “Jeff, are you awake” this time Jeff replies tersely “yep”
Then he asks “Jeff what time is it” “don’t know” replies Jeff sleepily. A few minutes pass and Col asks “Jeff where do we go for breakfast” again Jeff answers “don’t know” (I am pretending to be asleep) Col then gets up goes to the bathroom.
Jeff sits up in his double bed and says “What a f**king c*nt!” I laugh out loud. True to form Col had started to become annoying.

Spare us the Cutter

After a hearty breakfast we head out on to the (mean) streets. I was the only one with a guide book and map so I became the tour leader. We walked for miles heading down town, craning our necks looking up at the towering skyscrapers. We finally arrived at the daddies of them all the “Twin Towers” or as it were also known the “World Trade Center”. We had to queue for 45 minutes for the lift but it was worth it when we got to top and we were rewarded with magnificent views of the Hudson River and New York City.
There were big queues for the Elevator on the way back down. I decided not to wait I was going to “make the cut”.
Making the Cut is a golf term: If you make the cut, your final score after the 18th hole is at or above the target (=the cut) to progress to the second round. So if the cut was 2 under par, you could say
"Tiger Woods didn't make the cut as he finished on 1 over par".
We first started using the term when Pete, Chad and I were coming home from the United games. There would also be a mad scramble to go on the bus, and there was nothing more satisfying than looking down from the top deck of the bus as it was moving away and I would be waving to Chad and Pete as they had to queue for the next bus.
When the lift doors opened I snuck over the barrier and into the lift, the lift filled up quickly and as the doors closed I scanned the crowd and my friends were nowhere to be seen. I chuckled to myself, enjoying the moment but that changed in an instant when I stared into the far corner of huge lift and there was Pete with the biggest shit eating grin I have ever seen.
As we stood outside waiting for the rest of Team Moston he told me that he was watching closely and knew I was going to make the cut. We then ventured on to the world famous New York Subway and got a train back to our hotel.

Eyes Down! Look In!

That evening we assembled in the Irish bar across the road from our hotel. Col had got in early and was now best mates with the barman and he was also half cut.
We took taxis to Greenwich Village and went in the Slaughter Lamb; it was a horrible tacky horror theme pub. As we sat around a small table Col suddenly puts his head on the table and says “I am bollocked”( He has only 4 drinks maximum) We all find it most amusing, Pete then asks mischievously “What’s wrong Col?” He then utters the immortal words “My eyes are dropping out”
On that bombshell, we up sticks and moved on to the next boozer, we went in a couple of none descript pubs before settling on “The Wired Bar” as it had a pool table. Chaddy was moaning about New York not being as good Magaluf “There is a main street with lots of great bars with happy hours, not like here” he moaned.

Hey Toilet Breath

I had just been served at the bar, when call strides up to the bar and shouts at the bar staff “Hey mate where’s the f**king piss-stones?” the perplexed staff look at each in bewilderment. Col carries on regardless “You know the Bog, the Shithouse, the Karsey.
Finally one the staff speaks up “Do you mean the John?” Col looks dumbfounded and shouts back to them “What the fuck is the John?”
I am compelled to intervene, Col is making absolute idiot of himself, I slide over to bar and in my best American accent “I said to them “Yeah buddy he means the can” then I guided him away from the bar and I pointed him the way to the Shithouse.

Homo-Superior

Col hated it in “The Wired Bar” as there was a few Transvestites in, he told Jeff “it’s full of woolly wuffders in here and if the come up to me and try to speak to me I will Kick off! I mean proper Kick off!”
Soon after Jeff and I got a cab back to the hotel, we sat in the Irish Bar across the road and lamented on what a crap evening it had been and it was spoilt by Col being a complete and utter knobhead.

Out on the Streets

Most of the next day was spent looking for a new hotel. We wanted to say for the rest of the week but they told us that it was full up and we had to leave. We all suspected that they were just saying this because of Col when he “kicked it off “(proper) on the first day. After much pavement pounding we found Hotel Park. They only had double rooms, so now we had to partner up. Chad was with Kev, Jeff was with me and poor old Pete got stuck with Col as they were flying home a day early than the rest of us. We could no believe our luck, and Jeff and I was high fiving each other, we had finally got rid of Col.

Enter the The Messiah

After a swift check in, we headed up town to look for a bar that would show the big game: The Manchester derby (Manchester United v Manchester City) we found an Irish bar quite easily and decided to stay for a drink.
Then quite amazingly in walked Bryan Robson (the Manchester United and England legend) flanked by 2 friends, we all went quiet as he walked past us and stands at the other end of the bar. We are dumbstruck by his presence except Col who shouts across the bar “Hey Bryan over here mate” I put my head down I am too embarrassed to look.
But to my utter amazement he walks over to us and has a chat. Bryan, who was player manager of Middlesbrough at the time, was on shopping break with the wife, he was taking much needed alcohol refreshment while his wife was spending his money in Bloomingdales.
After chatting for about 10 minutes we all give our cameras to Kev who then takes team photos of us with Bryan standing pride of place in the middle. We were all amazed and overjoyed with meeting one of our heroes except Kev who was the Token City fan (there’s always one)

Oh Sweet Liberty

That evening we went to a crap Karaoke bar except Jeff who was feeling unwell.
Early morning I was awoken by my foot being shaken, I sat up in my bed and Jeff was standing at the foot of bed he said “Kris, I am going to the hospital” “right” I replied sleepily then went back to sleep.
Later that morning I, Pete, Kev and Col went to the Statue of Liberty, Chad decided to stay in bed, after being very drunk the previous evening. While queuing for the ferry, I decided to take a piss in the terminal, I almost miss the boat and i had to run to get onboard much to the amusement of the lads.
The old steel lady was great and we climbed up the steps right into the head, it was not the first time I got head from a mature lady.

An Ode to Joy

Thursday 10th November 2009 is day that every United fan will never forget and every City fan will try and blank from their memory.
We assembled in the Irish bar and got good seats for the big game. Even Jeff was there, he had spent most of the day queuing in a Hospital, they examined him but they could not find anything wrong but still charged him $75.
I was a bit worried about this game after our recent embarrassing defeat at the hands of Barcelona (4-0). My fears were ungrounded because after 24 minutes “King Eric” had blasted the ball in the net, United then ran amok with Kan Kan Kanchelski scoring an hat-trick and with Sparky Hughes adding a goal, making the final score 5 nil for the mighty reds. It became know as the Demolition Derby. This was indeed sweet revenge for the 5-1 mauling we received from City a few years before. At the final whistle we stood on tables singing United songs, enjoying the moment except poor Kev who cut a sad figure standing alone at the end of the bar with head in his hands.

Sick Boy

We drank up and caught taxis down to the East Village and we hit some bars on the famous Bleeker Street. Kev who had been drinking very heavily, trying to block out the result of the game from his mind. He was then sick all at the bar; he then made the cut without telling anyone. I think the result of the game had made him pig sick.

Its on America's Tortured Brow

The morning after, somewhat worse for wear, I guided Team Moston to the Dakota Buildings where John Lennon had once lived and where he was tragically Gun downed by crazed gun man Mark Chapman.
I asked the Doorman, who was standing in front huge metal gates “Hey where is the exact spot where Lennon was shot”
“Hey Buddy your standing on it”
Then rather morbidly we took photos of each, pretending to be shot. We then crossed the road into Central Park to check out the Strawberry Fields Memorial. It is a small strip of land with the central point being a circular pathway mosaic of stones, in the centre of the mosaic is a single word “Imagine”. I became rather emotional, I had a tear in my eye, and I had to walk away from the lads and the jokes, I sat alone and smoked a cigarette and got a grip of myself.
After a trek through Central Park, we went to the Hard Rock Cafe. But there were massive queues outside so we went to dine at Planet Hollywood.

Melt Down

That evening we ventured out to the South Sea Port area. It was Kev’s idea to go there. After going in a couple of near empty bars, we realised it was a bad move to come to this area. Both Col and Chaddy going into overdrive with there moaning, it’s not like Magaluf etc. Col said to Kev “Its f**king Shit in here, where’s all the women?”
Kev finally cracked and turned to Col and shouted angrily into Col’s face “Why don’t you shut the f*ck up, you f*cking whinging bastard”. They both argued furiously for a few minutes and then squared up to each other. I was hoping that Kev would stick one on him but Pete and Chad got in the middle of them and calmed things down.

Wash Out

We got a cab to the East village again but this time it was rubbish, as it was Friday night all the bars were packed out and they were charging $5 entrance fee. We retreated to Jimi Hendrix Bar and played some pool and supped many buds.

Last Exit to Brooklyn

Jeff and I woke up early and went to a flea market, it was too expensive for me, I tried to haggle but I had no luck.
Later we met up with the guys and caught the subway to Brooklyn and then walked back into Manhatten across the famous Brooklyn Bridge.
The views of the imposing Skyscrapers were breath taking especially the Twin Towers; we took many team photos on the bridge.
In the late afternoon I retreated back to the sanctuary of my hotel room, I felt ill; I had pains in my stomach. I spent a pleasant afternoon watching mind numbing shite TV (where you are never more than 10 minutes away from a commercial break)

Nite Clubbing

Chad, Pete, Kev and Col went to Webster Hall nightclub; I was still feeling unwell so I staid home. Jeff went to the sex shops in Times Square (probably “boothing it”). They said the club was great; it had 3 massive levels and a booming sound system. But it was expensive to get in and pricey for drinks and they did not get to meet any ladies. All in all I think I made the right decision by staying home and saving my money.

Say Hello and Wave Goodbye

Feeling somewhat better the next day, I went to Macys (biggest dept store in the world) and I bought a nice blue Russell Athletic sweat shirt.
In the afternoon we all gathered in the foyer of the hotel and waved bye bye to Col and Pete who was flying home a day earlier than the rest of Team Moston.
It was sad to see Pete going home but we had the bonus of Col going home, so we were more than happy.

A Sting in the Tale

That night we caught a cab to Amsterdam Avenue, and after hitting a couple of low-key bars we ended up in a real Irish bar. It was a great bar and I felt I could relax without Col being there. Soon we were all knocking back pitchers of strong lager and we got talking to a couple of girls from England who was working as nannies. They told us that the actor Matt Dillion (one of my fav actors) frequents the place, and usually sits at the bar knocking back the buds. “It’s a shame he is not in tonight” I mused. “No no no you don’t want to meet him” they chorused. “He is a nasty bastard, if anyone tries to speak to him he tells them to f*uk off”. Pretty soon the girls joined our table and we all had arms around each other singing along with the Juke box as it blasted out Sting’s “An Englishman in New York”. Around about 3am we got booted out into the pouring rain. We were singing “Oh oh I’m an alien, I am illegal alien, I’m Englishman in New York” as we got a taxi back to the hotel. Why is it you always find the best bar on the last night of your holiday?

J.F.K Flown Away

We fly home the next day; I sleep most of the way on the flight. I take a taxi with Kev and Chad from the airport and as we passing the C.I.S building (then the tallest building in Manchester) I say “hey check out the size that building” Chad and Kev laugh at my in-joke and the driver looks confused.

The Final Word

Postscript: It was fantastic holiday. I thought at the time that Col was ruining our holiday but when we came back and I thought about the crazy week I had spent in the big apple. I realised that Col had actually made the holiday great.

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Photos

Home James
Hey Wheres Jeff's Type?

Outside Our First hotel
Not so Comfortable for Col

Cheers Mate
Who is this Crazy Limey?

Team Moston With Robbo
From left to right Jeff, Chaddy, Me, Robbo, Pete and the Legend that is Col

On yer Bike
At Planet HollyWierd

Take it to the Bridge
Chad and Jeff

Not a Nice Man
Mr Dillion

Comments

[dog]

i should have gone
an interesting and well written story

[Jimmy T]

Your a crazy mixed up cat on the wrong side of the track? But a top Wrighter.

[linda]

bloody good read