New York City welcomed us by providing us with the opportunity to progress from one screening check point after screening check point. Bags were checked, bodies probed, xrayed and this was just to go to the toilet. So long we waited to be processed by immigration that our luggage had been removed from the conveyor belt and some homeless man had taken up residence there. We arrived at JFK at 3pm and we finally made it out of customs at 5pm, we then made our way to our designated pick up only to wait another hour. What followed was a Grand Theft Auto style drive to downtown NYC. (Amazingly we tipped for the priveldge of blaring horns, expletives thrown at all and sundry and our luggage tossed like a cabre at a highlands game.) We then entered into our accomodation, checked in and made our way to our room on the seventh floor. Unfortunately no one told us at check in that you had to press the lift button number for the floor and wait to be told which elevator to enter. So as you can imagine, we pushed the button, jumped in and watched as our floor zoomed by. It was a scene for Ground Hog Day, for 15 minutes we zoomed up and down, not once stopping at our floor. Crumpled and hugging our luggage in the corner we waited. We hoped. We pictured the news headlines, two Australians found in New York elevator dehydrated and emancipated, mumbling inconherently over and over again the number 7. Our saviour came in the form of 2 young Australian girls who had suffered a similar fate and who shared the secret of the elevator with us.
We soon discoverd on our travels that security screening is the norm for a country who lives under the constant threat of terriorism. Every momument, museum and church we encountered, jackets, shoes and bags went through the scanner. At times the assistant manning the screen device was texting, talking to friend or reading a book. We felt so safe in the knowledge that our safety from terrorist attack was in their hands.
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