I hear it's nice in the Summer, some snow would be nice...

Boston, MA

USA

Here's what you've missed:

• Seattle, WA


• Vancouver, BC


• Chicago, IL


• Toronto, ON


• Montreal, QC


• New York, NY Updated! See below.

So, er, sorry about that... I've got some half-written postings for some of those locations which I may publish at a later date.

But I'm in Boston now (or Bah-ston as many a t-shirt, bumper sticker and novelty condom proclaim. They're very proud of the Boston accent) and staying with Lauren and her family of roommates in their splendiferous apartment just across the road from Harvard. It's oppressively hot.

Last night, we went to dinner at a lovely Family-owned pizza joint in town. (Note the capitalisation of the "F" in "Family"; it is not incidental.) Lauren and I arrived a little late (she on crutches, but that's another story) and were greeted by the customary sausages which are an essential (and curious) prelude to any meal at this place. Later, our three pizzas were delivered to the table by an older gentleman. Estimates placed his age at somewhere between 70 and 110 years old. Tall with greying hair and a slightly hunched back, he had the classic thick Italian-Boston accent and the charming Boston-Italian who-gives-a-flying-fuck attitude.

The pizzas were delivered stacked one atop the other, layer cake style: Tray/Pizza/Tray/Pizza/Tray/Pizza. They were very tasty. Once we had had our fill, there was still a considerable portion of pizza remaining, so one of our company asked aging waiter if we could "get it boxed" (doggy bags are the norm in this country). He remained hunched, then grunted or snorted (I'm not sure which) and walked away. Did he hear us? Was that acknowlegement?

About ten minutes later, he reappeared, and reached for the remaining tray of pizza.
"Oh," said Kristen. "We wanted to take th..."
"AH HEARD YA," he drawled.

Oh.

Pizza is returned, boxed, and bill is delivered. The only thing we can make out on the little scrap of paper is the price, so we each went to put in some cash.

"Do yah need change?" offered Aging Italian, gruffly.
"Yeah if we could, like, get a ten and two fives from this?"
"HAVE FOUR FAHVS"
Me: "Oh, and I need some fives too."
"GET EM FROM HER," referring to the earlier recipient of the four fives.
Aging waiter turns to walk away.
"WHADDOEYE LOOK LIKE, AH BANK?"

We pay, and hand over the bill along with the cash.
"AH DONNEED THAT!" he spat, throwing the bill on the table.

Add to the friendly service the suspicious doorway at the back marked

This is NOT an exit.
Staff only.

and the numerous men in blood-stained white aprons who entered said room carrying bundles of large spikes. What can I say?

The place has character.

When you're a boy, Some days are tough

New York, NY

USA

New York City - the city that never sleeps. It's true. More so than Vegas (which was decidedly sleepy at 6am), mid-town Manhattan runs 24/7. At least, it runs til 2am when all the bars close and I assume that it then continues to buzz but I never saw it.

I did, however, see some pretty cool things.

I saw Amy, which was brilliant (of course) and even got to sleep atop her in her swanky downtown dormitory for three nights (and no more). Can you use the words "swanky" and "dormitory" in the same sentence? The bunks had kind of a synthetic covered mattress which made some interesting sounds and led to some awkward misunderstandings - but the apartment was cool.

I saw the sun set over Central Park, The Empire State Building and the rest of the city from the top of the Rockefeller Center.

I saw a man running on a treadmill, non-stop, for 24 consecutive hours.

I saw a ferris wheel inside a toy shop (although I was too tall to ride :( ) and a McDonalds inside a Macy's.

I saw the Statue, the Park, the MoMA, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Bayonne Bridge and they all lived up to expectations. Although the statue wasn't as big as expected, and someone called NYPD to stop me taking photos of the Bayonne Bridge.

I saw a Cat Man Dude. That's a man who's had his face surgically altered and tatooed to look like a cat. Seriously.

I saw two Broadway shows: Spring Awakening which has its share of confronting moments, but exceeded expectations to the point that I would grant it "brilliant" status; and Chicago which exceeded no expectations and only barely lived up to them but was enjoyable all the same.

I saw David Hasselhoff.

I've seen it all.

Out the door, Just in Time, Head Down the 405

Los Angeles, CA

USA

OK, so brace yourselves Scrubs fans...

Monday, after four good days in Hollywoodland (Disneyland, the Boulevarde, the Sign), Glenn, Harry and I decided it was time to make the pilgrimage to North Hollywood University Medical Center (aka Sacred Heart Hospital aka JD's workplace).

Step 1 Look up address on Wikipedia.
Step 2 Make 50-minute bus pilgrimage.
Step 3 Never trust Wikipedia again.

We arrived at what should have been 11699 Riverside Drive. It didn't exist. 11645 existed, as did 11701. Just nothing in between. So a couple of calls to a friend (thanks Kellie) and it transpired that we had the wrong address (how could Wiki be so wrong?) and a quick check of Google Earth confirmed the correct location.

So we hit it up: Jumped on a bus to take us further down the road, and jumped off with squeals of delight which probably ruined any chance we had of talking our way past security.

It turns out that what is the "front" of the hospital in the show is actually the back of the real hospital. And behind that is a causeway (like a massive open stormwater drain). So to see the set, we had to jump the fence from a service station into a big closed-off empty lot across the other side of the causeway. The now-slightly-suspicious security guard was by this stage tracking our every move (he even called for backup!) From our vantage point we spotted Coffeebucks, the main entrance to Sacred Heart (didn't have any time for any illicit white-boy dancing...) and of course Roofs A and B.

Next, we approached Mr Security to see if we could find out what was being filmed at the time - we did see a few Coffeebucks employees - but before we said anything at all, he replied "No". Fair enough.

So, pretty satisfied with a successful day, we headed further up Riverside Drive to grab a bus home. On the way, I noticed a sign on what appeared to be a very small nursing home that read "Gate D". It looked a lot like the ones on the hospital so we headed inside, and around the corner.

"Oh," I remarked. "That looks like maybe where they film the scenes in the par... OH GOD. OH MY GOD. OH SHIT. HOLY FRICK. DOUBLE FRICK."

Around yet another corner, there it was it in all its glory. JD's deck. That's right. We were standing on the quarter-acre. It was looking pretty dilapidated, and we worked out that the same area was used to film JD's house, the park(s) and various other outdoor scenes. There was no sign of the neighbours' houses (they must be filmed elsewhere) and the grass was astroturf.

I have stood on the very same deck from which Mandy Moore toppled, where Keith got Bacon-backed, and where on seeing an older gay gentleman drinking an Appletini JD pondered, "Since when do gay guys drink straight guy drinks".

My life is complete.

Photos (and maybe video) to follow... Check out the locations on my map.

And All That Jazz

San Diego, CA

USA

After joining the boys for the final episode of the Aussie Hour, it was finally time to get out of Sac. I jumped in a cab (with a cabby who couldn't get insurance because he has a hit and run on his record - don't ask how that came up). With only one night of accommodation booked for SD, I boarded the 13-hour Greyhound at 3am (yes, 3am) which wasn't so bad as it could have been.

On arrival in SD, I checked into the hostel (in the Gaslamp Quarter)and checked again if there was any accommodation available for thefollowing nights. There was not (I learned it was a long weekend which may have had something to do with it). So I hit the streets searching for somewhere to stay next night.

Nothing.

Anywhere.

I was starting to stress a bit, but I figured if worse came to worst, I'd hang out in the first hostel til late and then just sneakily crash on the couch. Cos I'm shifty like that. It was that busy that even the couch I had planned to sleep on had been let out for the night. So I decided to be stubborn and refused to leave. I figured they'd have pity on me eventually. Finally, a bed became available when someone had to go home to visit a dying relative. Awesome.

So the luck continued next day when i discovered that the street had been closed off for a Jazz and Blues festival. A big one. $50 bucks a ticket all day. But because the hostel was in the street - free passes! It was great. Awesome lineup. Dancing in the street, sitting in the window of the hostel watching from above, free drinks, t-shirts. Great fun. And then as a bonus, the manager of the hostel knew a guy who knew a guy and I got free tickets to an unrelated concert that night. So for my
$20 a night hostel fee, I got close to $100 value... Not bad really. Some unexpected fun, from what started out as a pretty stressful, depressing time.

If you ever do San Diego, walk out to the cliffs at Ocean Beach, have a burger at Hodad's, visit the zoo, and stay at USA Hostels on the Memorial Day long weekend.

99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall

Sacramento, CA

USA

So, I'm in Sacramento now, living in the dorms at Sac State, and so far the highlight (and it's Sacramento, so highlights are few and far between) was heading to Brewfest with Glenn and Harry. The deal was this: $30, 5 hours, all the beer you can drink. Now that was fun, but the best was yet to come. Thanks to our ingenious plan to take two complementary beer mugs each (to reduce queuing time and increase drinking time), we discovered on the walk down the long road to the taxis that our chalices made rather effective percussion instruments. We commenced riffing.

When we came to the corner where we had agreed to meet our chauffeur, Dino, and he was nowhere in sight, we stopped, but the wicked beer-mug beats continued. I dropped my hat to the dusty road, Harry did the same. Almost immediately we earned our first dollar. The crowds continued to pass: Some on foot, others by car, slowing and then moving on. Some gave money. Some stopped to dance. Still others threw corn chips from the window of their SUV.

After 20 minutes, we'd earned the grand total of $4.70. That's more than the minimum wage (although admittedly it was split between 3 people).

So, $30 entry × 3 = $90, less $4.70 = the solution to this country's poverty problem.

A thought

Sacramento, CA

USA

I don't understand this place. The toilets overfill, people drive around in small tanks, and yet we have the hole in the ozone layer.

Where My Head's At (and the rest of me)

I've made a map with markers at some of the places I've been.
My Google Map
Don't know how religious I'll be about updating it, but we'll give it a go.