New York 2nd May - "Como esta nigger?"

Big sleeps in the tiny apartment – two in the bed, one on the couch and one on the floor. Also premier league football on the cable TV; the other three guys were totally stoked about that….
We went and did sensible things near Colombia University like buying food in an amazing (ly expensive) supermarket. This was after going to Tom’s Restaurant, the exterior of which was made immortal by the genius of Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld and had a truly tremendous NY Lumberjack breakfast.

Upon returning to the apartment we saw an excellent exchange between two rude bois at a tube station just outside of Harlem. Lots of trash-talking from the safety of either side of the barrier that we were desperate to but fearful of watching. This was also after taking a wrong turn down a side-street to see some Cuban gents illegally playing cards – that was a treat.
We got to the top of Rockerfeller Centre just in time for sunset and got, as you can see, an incredible view of the city and it’s bridges.

This was Saturday in Mother F’ing New York yeah? Let’s do this yeah? Let’s walk around Grenwich Village aimlessly for an hour, then go in a shit bar called 99 Below that served overpriced small glasses of booze and played bad hip-hop to no-one, then let’s walk around for a further forty minutes!!!Woo!
Then let’s go in the Stonewall Inn. What we saw: an oasis in the desert of New York, beer, pool tables, good times. What it took us a few more crucial seconds to see: The rainbow flags outside, the fellas getting off with each other aggressively, the fact a lot of fellas were staring at us and the videos of fellas doing rude things to each other involving bumholes and willies. Not homophobic but don’t want to be in a scene from the film Irreversible.
We eventually decided to get in a cab and drive til we got to somewhere good. Details of this hilarious journey are available in person from any of the four of us as it would not come across with mere written words.
We eventually got into a decent bar called Whiskey but it was a little to ‘preppy’ for our tastes so we hit the streets once more. Girls from New Jersey are loose. And flattering. And thought I was Irish. Fools. Another street encounter included me perhaps overly-aggressively asked a Latino drug-dealer the result of the ill-fated Ricky Hatton fight.
As we got into the next bar (a good Irish bar!!!) the drinks were becoming a little mixed, whiskey, Guiness, vodka, Jager, beer and it was becoming rowdy. Rob and I engaged in an epic darts match and our skills improved as we drank.
Ian and Owen hit the road whilst myself and Rob were escorted around some ever-emptying bars by girls named Liz and Beth, which made remembering their names easier. More shots, a karaoke-bar-cum-brothel, more shots, another bar, telling an excited cockney who asked if I supported United to ‘go away’, home for five.