August 19th, 1989

August 19th, 1989

Flight from LGW – JFK

Omni Park Central hotel, New York

Back in my favourite city, with Kimberly, aka Matilda, but I’ll get to that.

Flight time today was just over seven hours and I especially enjoyed tawking to the passengers from he-ah. I don’t know what it is about the Noo York accent but I absolutely love it. I had a good natter in the galley with my most favourtie passenger to date (excluding David of course!) a heavy set woman from “Lawnguyland.” Truly, the funniest and most adorned woman ever, she was just brilliant. I need to go to Long Island now just so I can listen to people speak!

Kimberly and I “forgot” to invite any of our crew out with us. From what we gathered on the crew bus, it seemed a few of them were planning on meeting to go to the Irish bar close to the hotel. I don’t really understand flying three thousand miles to America, only to spend the night in an Irish bar but that’s (some) crew for you.

Wasting no time, Kimberly and I dashed to our rooms to change and agreed to meet fifteen minutes later. We figured it’d be in our interest not to bump into the others when they met in the lobby.

We were all giggles as we stepped into the yellow cab and made our way to MK’s, which being a Saturday night, was mobbed. We started out in the bar downstairs and agreed that in the unlikely event we got separated, our meeting point would be by the two stuffed Dobermans.

Within minutes of arriving in the bar with the French looking antiques, we got chatted up by two very dishy Americans, one of whom piqued my interest when I heard his New York accent. However, prior to going out, Kimberly and I made a pact to stick together and make tonight about dancing and not about meeting guys. We stuck to it and became two Swedish girls who didn’t speak much English. Within a few minutes, the guys got bored with us speaking in a language they (or I!) didn’t understand and they walked away.

In a fit of laughter, we made our way to the club in the basement, where my Swedish friend, Matilda (a name that doesn’t sound even remotely Swedish!) adopted a bold attitude that somehow gained us entry to the members only club. The music was mostly house music that we danced furiously to, especially Lil Louis’s, “French Kiss.”

Slowly, we made our way up through each floor of the club, all the way to the VIP area on the top floor, also known as the bedroom floor because, yes, it’s made to resemble a bedroom, although I don’t think most bedrooms have a pool table! We dropped the Swedish persona at that point and my nonchalant act worked a treat and got us in!

In the cab on the way back to the hotel, we morphed into Swedes again and in the most unconvincing accent ever, “Matilda,” suggested we adopt new identities when we hit the town tomorrow night. I told her I enjoyed being Abby from Stockholm and might want to be her again!


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