Random Scrap:
I arrived into the 42nd Street just before five in the morning. It was still dark outside. I had spent the last five hours on Greyhound from Boston and I was tired. The man seating to my right kept snoring and falling asleep on my shoulder so instead of getting some rest I had to stay vigilant trying to direct his head towards the window. The Natural History Museum was going to open soon so after absorbing the morning air of New York and figuring out how to use subway I made my way to the place and took a short nap in a dark room projecting a film about worms. Boston had been great. A bit foreign at the beginning but then more friendly, especially having found out that half of the population seemed to have some sort of Polish connection. I did the Red Trial, saw Boston Commons and took a ferry across the bay. The hostel owner's father was of course Polish as well. I talked about war in Iraq over a bottle of beer with one of the guests. He called me a scholar and claimed to have been a former speech writer of Bill Clinton.