Englishman in New York, Sting

We were in New York this weekend, and while we had fun, the travel was something else. Getting there was fine, but coming back was like a “series of unfortunate events.” There was a storm system we drove through on the way back that had us wishing we had found a hotel.

The rain was coming down hard on the highway and Brian discovered that out of mindless habit I had accidentally plugged in the directions to our home in central PA, rather than where we were intending to go in Northeastern PA to stay the night at his parents’ house. He was a sweetheart about it, but I was cursing myself a bit for the mistake.

Then suddenly the Apple map lady, whose directions we were so carefully following, popped up with an announcement about a “safer route.” Well, I had already negotiated myriad turns and lane changes including a battle with a NYC cabby over a narrow bridge entrance, so a safer route in the pouring down night rain made sense. Who knows, maybe there was an accident ahead she wanted us to avoid. We clicked yes.

The directions we were given seemed fine enough at first, taking us off the main route, fewer cars and fewer crazy drivers to dodge. But then we were told to take this right and that left until we were going over a small mountainous area through New Jersey woodlands and the Pequest Wildlife Management area, Small roads, one lane bridges, lots of deer crossing signs, foggy descents down curvy roads until eventually we found ourselves making up for our accidental southerly path by following the Delaware River northward on the east side and passing through (I’m not making this up) the tiny town of Buttzville.

I come from the woods of northeastern Pennsylvania, but this was not the terrain I wanted to be going though after driving all day, especially in a rain storm that had dropped branches and leaves into the middle of the road ahead of us. Overhanging green boughs waving wildly above us threatened to land on us any moment. At that point, I would have preferred to be navigating the streets of Brooklyn like I had been doing prior to this. Eventually, we reached route 80 and passed through the Delaware Water Gap to make it back into PA, and things were easier going.

Meanwhile this weekend, my buddy Mitch was facing his own New York crisis as his family’s flights were being cancelled because of this same storm system, and he had to make plans to pick them up at the Newark airport. Through messages, we joked that we’d wave to each other in passing. When they finally got off the tarmac, it was well after midnight, so they got a hotel and ended up spending a lovely day by seeing the Statue of Liberty via the Staten Island Ferry.

Needless to say, both of us are a bit tired at work this Monday, and while he has his Staten Island story, I’ll tell you more about my Long Island Saturday during tomorrow’s song of the day feature. For now, inexplicably and only tangentially related, I have Sting’s “Englishman in New York” running through my head. It was his 1988 single from his 1987 album Nothing Like the Sun, and the video features, of all people, the outspoken and controversial Quentin Crisp.

I’ve been to NYC enough times to feel somewhat at home there, but I am sure that those who live in the city see me as an alien among them, that is if they have time to notice visitors at all. However, I certainly felt like an alien to New Jersey on that wild wilderness detour. At home Brian and I joke about being adopted Brits because of friends we have in the UK and all the BBC programs we watch, so maybe that’s part of the connection to this song as well.

For whatever it’s worth, this is my Monday earworm and I now bestow it upon you. For all of us who have felt out of place, Sting’s “Englishman in New York.”