Didn’t really stay out late last night – got back to the hotel around 11pm, tired and with my feet aching.

Woke around 9am to another sunny morning and, my last day. I really, really need to get some presents sorted for folks at home, so I decide to make that the aim of the game for today, and, I think I’ve done ok. The weak dollar at the moment makes New York an attractive proposal – and its clear that I’m not the only nutter that’ll be going home with a shiny new suitcase, full of booty.

All the ‘discount’ electronics and giftware stores have hastily arranged ‘Luggage’ sections, with all manner of cases, from $400 Samsonites to cheap Asian knock-offs. I, obviously, plump for the cheapest bag I can find that’ll hold my stuff – $45 for a mid-sized expandable suitcase with a trolley handle. If it only lasts this one journey, I’ll be happy!

Wandered around the Flatiron district this morning – disappointing (though probably unsurprising, really) that most shops seem to close on Sundays (or not opening til mid-day, at the earliest). The Flatiron building is architecturally beautiful – if the people who owned the building across the intersection from it let people take photos of it from their rooftops, they’d make a killing.

Ok, so, the updates stopped. Even my mum thought I was dead, murdered by a crazy New York gangster, but, I wasn’t. I was just bloody busy. Busy, and tired, in cycles.

I went out for a quick look around when I arrived – even though I had been awake for 20+ hours by that point, to fool my mental chemistry into accepting the time-delay. This proved to be a great idea, for two reasons – 1) I have no jetlag at all, now, and 2) I found Smiths Bar, a couple of blocks from Times Square.

I like to think that I’m not the ‘regular’ tourist – sure, Times Square is pretty neat, but it’s a tourist trap ready to suck the dollar bills out of your pocket as just as soon as it can. I don’t really understand the notion of going all the way to New York to go to franchised eateries like Planet Hollywood, or movie-spinoff-moneyspinners like Bubba Gump Shrimp where you’ll eat some godawful microwaved shit served to you by a waitress that’s getting minimum wage and providing minimum effort. So, I went out on Thursday night and had a bit of a ‘recce, just to help me get my bearings.

I’m finally here, typing this up in my hotel room on the 22nd floor. What a pickle! Everything was going swimmingly perfectly well until I reached the check-in desk at the hotel.

Me: “Hello, I have a reservation for Mr Sheridan, for four days”

Snooty hotel man: “Ok”, tap-tap-tap-tap, raised eyebrow, “ah, yes, I see. Sir, your card was declined (equate my emphasis to his volume), so that booking is now gone.”

I’m sure I don’t need to give examples of some of the choice words I used here – I’m sure you can get the picture, and the long and short of it is, well, I’m on the 22nd floor looking out over Broadway , but I do need to ring my bank tomorrow – it looks like the card I ‘paid’ with is barred from international transactions, presumably as an anti-fraud measure.

The rest of the flight was fine, felt a bit tired by the end, but once we got into the last hour, it flew by (pun intended). JFK Terminal 4 deserted, and Homeland Security let me in with no qualms. Which was nice.