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Do you know the way to Long Island… Please
As an experienced Soldier, I have crossed into Iraq with a unit whose average age was 19.2 and driving 90-foot trucks with trailers in an active war zone. I experienced the oil fires during Desert Storm firsthand, remembering how the intensity of the smoke choked you up and you couldn’t see if the enemy was near or even if you could see your entire convoy. I have even trained aggressively for riots in the lead up to a deployment to Kosovo for a Peace Keeping mission; complete with actual tasers, riot gear and tear gas. So, whoever said that New York is a vibrant and exciting place? I might change the description a tad. I personally experienced more of a backed-up and somewhat intimidating New York! Just saying.
My first moment of sheer panic and confusion came when I was in a small very local pizza shop. It was very crowded, and people were in my personal space, the ovens were big and the pizza dudes were yelling and spinning pizza and acting like it was an auction. Stress, nothing looked familiar as I was staring at calzone and other
artifacts of the Italian food scene! I asked the lady next to me about ordering a New York style pizza. She looked at me with doubt and kinda whisked me away with a wave- off hand gesture. She said just order a slice and they will get ya one to go. I explained that I did not see a Hawaiian Style pizza on the menu. She asked condescendingly where I was from and if she was to visit what would I recommend for her to have for a local meal. Being from North Dakota, I said, “a good buffalo burger and fries would be a great start”! She was so very puzzled, and I could see she needed a bit more explanation. I did the unthinkable (straight from the movie when Kevin Costner tries to explain what a Buffalo was in the native Lakota language)… I raised my hands up, fingers pointed to the sky (mimicking horns) and yelled out, “Ta Tonka”. Oh Geez, everyone looked at me and I felt pretty silly until the lady looked me right in the eyes, not understanding my description of a buffalo, and blurted back, “I love me some hot buffalo sauce on
burgers too!” Ugh.
In retrospect, I don’t think I would be a good New Yorkers for a couple of reasons: I think that people here would rather me not engage them first thing with booming greetings of the day. I ask a lot of questions that I believe they think are too personal. For example: How are you today? Where are you from? There is not many that want to chat around here, just don’t understand.
Did you know: In New York City specifically, all the bridges/tunnels on the New Jersey side have tolls, and FREE going out of the city? There is a reason, based on my personal experience. If you can actually make it into New York City! I saw some commuters that probably had a job in an office, but with the slow intensity of the drive, they just work in their cars.
Yesterday I drove my 25-foot motorhome into the most congested city in the world (okay, maybe just America). I was chatting on the phone when I began the short journey from the New Jersey Liberty Park to the tunnel which would be a quick route to get onto Long Island New
York. At least that is what the GPS lady told me. Traffic was atrocious and I had plenty of time to explain my surroundings to my friend. Small businesses were in unique places as I looked around. An old house for the insurance company, a restaurant that had cute tables and chairs on the sidewalk, bicycles weaving in and out of traffic delivering the food from hidden culinary gems living in the alleys. There was even a glamorous Shake Shack on a city corner, almost felt like it might be more than a fast-food delicacy. I screamed to my friend, “there is a Home Depot right here in downtown New Jersey”. What the heck- It was located less than a mile from the entrance to the famous Holland Tunnel. I wondered, if you buy a 2x4 that is 8’ long, can you take it on the subway?
Well, even the best plans can come to a very quick ending. I was excited to enter this underwater tunnel. Plans changed. The traffic had inched closer and then suddenly, I was within sight of the giant toll booth area and just checking out the many signs. One caught my eye as
it read, Last Chance to exit before Tolls. Thank goodness I saw it, because, right next to it was another sign: “CAMPERS and Bottled Gas Prohibited”. Not funny. I took the exit!
The roads through the heart of the city were small, and every exit threatened “NO large commercial vehicles” because you aren’t allowed to drive through tunnels with propane, who would have thought? My palms started sweating because I was a little worried about turning onto the wrong road and facing more 8- foot low clearance signs.
Suddenly, cars began honking at me and waving their arms frantically like I was a kayak cruising along merrily, right before plunging over Niagara Falls. I hadn’t even reached New York City yet and already I was headed for a low bridge. Thankfully, a nice man waved to me, and we chatted while sitting in traffic as I was trying desperately to solve the problem I had gotten myself into. This is what it sounded like: “Ma’am, you can’t go this way! There’s a low clearance ahead. You won’t make it.” “I know,” I said. “I missed the exit.” He started manipulating his GPS and then yelled, “get off over
there and follow that road”. I blindly took the exit.
I followed his directions through winding side roads and before long (1.5 hours), I was back on course with solid directions to my destination on Long Island. Sometimes, the view is best after a course correction. The initial turns that took me into the belly of the downtown beast were excruciating. The sheer number of people and the tallness of the buildings made me feel so tiny and insignificant. Until the crowd turns against you. I was navigating pretty good through the low tree branches on the side of the streets, when things took a small hiccup; it was only 2-lanes and up ahead was an unsolvable puzzle. A car stopped in the left lane, flashers blinking and nobody inside the car. I would have just gone around but on the right side up ahead about 20 feet was another vehicle in the right lane, flashers on and nobody present. Seriously! Who does this?
When the crowd started looking at us like we were a Covered Wagon from North Dakota that had wandered from the trail, then I knew I might be experiencing a unique situation. I was
at an impasse and could not get around either of the stopped vehicles. The cars behind me instantly started honking relentlessly, arms were flailing outside their windows, and I felt that I might be a target of car tipping soon if I didn’t do something fast. Trying to muster the courage to do something impactful, I looked into my giant side mirror, and pointed at the cars and muttered under my breath, “I can’t be held accountable for this mess, leave me alone”. Really not effective at all, but it’s all I had. Scout and I had made it out of all our traffic predicaments unscathed and more importantly, in one piece.
Looking back, I had not seen any RVs for quite a while. This is not a simple drive for a motorhome, and maybe that’s the reason east coast travel is done by tour bus!
What should have taken about an hour of distance driving ended up being a nearly 5-hour unforgettable experience. I spent hours looking at all the height signs, nervously approaching every bridge with the same caution of lighting fireworks. Scout was also wide awake for our adventure and maybe even a little concerned
as she experienced her first high-level crosswalk.
Best part of the afternoon. We were painfully trudging through the endless vehicle backups and slow movement to our destination. Rounded a corner and then, out of nowhere… a right-side pull off with a Dunkin Donut drive thru. GENIOUS!
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