Dancharthos :
Autobiography :
13.2 -- Eastern Weather
It was cloudy in New York when we landed that Sunday morning after our all night flight. An airliner full of San Diego county boy scouts going to the 1964 national jamboree. After church service in some big salon at the airport, we spent the rest of the day at the World's Fair. I had read and read and read the guidebook and knew all kinds of things I wanted to see. Hustling and bustling and how little I remember. General Motors futurama version two. Ford Motor Company ride through prehistory. The New York State towers. Walking walking and more walking.
That night we rode the train into town. Elevated at first, it then went underground into Manhattan. My first ride ever on a subway! Then we marched through the endless access stairs and tunnels up to the sidewalk. A drunk outside sputtered -- Martians! -- at all the guys in our green boy scout uniforms. We were all staring up and up at all the tall midtown buildings. Finally we got our rooms way up on some upper floor of a hotel whose name I forget, except it was right on Herald Square.
The next day the clouds let loose and we toured Manhattan in the steadily drizzling rain. Went by boat around the shrouded island. Then bus tour around Manhattan, and to the metropolitan museum of art. Again I remember very little. Only the hustle. And how tired I was getting. In the rain.
We went to the top of the Empire State Building in the mist. Couldn't see anything. Hee hee.
The day after by bus to Washington where we toured for two days I think it was. I don't remember much except sleeping on the tour bus and staying up late to watch the republican convention get ready to nominate Barry Goldwater.
We finally ended up in Valley Forge to camp with maybe 50,000 other boy scouts and leaders. That was when the really muggy heat began. Sticky humidity in the Pennsylvania countryside. Sweltering, sticky humidity. Salt tablets. Skip Platz my 16 year old tentmate and his big schlong. The weather was so hot we didn't even want to wear anything to sleep in. I was only 13. Mine hadn't gotten that big yet. You bet your bottom dollar I was curious and looked.
But that was okay. Not like the damn heat. The weather. That awful, humid, eastern summer muggy climate. Oh my God I thought I am NEVER leaving San Diego again!
But I did ten years later, when I moved to Washington D.C. -- a poet going to the capital.
But that was in November. So I didn't feel the heat again until May of 1975 when I suddenly remembered. Oh yeah...
Back east is horrible climate. Out west is better. On the coast near the ocean. The cooling, calming ocean. Pacific.
Well, usually....
That night we rode the train into town. Elevated at first, it then went underground into Manhattan. My first ride ever on a subway! Then we marched through the endless access stairs and tunnels up to the sidewalk. A drunk outside sputtered -- Martians! -- at all the guys in our green boy scout uniforms. We were all staring up and up at all the tall midtown buildings. Finally we got our rooms way up on some upper floor of a hotel whose name I forget, except it was right on Herald Square.
The next day the clouds let loose and we toured Manhattan in the steadily drizzling rain. Went by boat around the shrouded island. Then bus tour around Manhattan, and to the metropolitan museum of art. Again I remember very little. Only the hustle. And how tired I was getting. In the rain.
We went to the top of the Empire State Building in the mist. Couldn't see anything. Hee hee.
The day after by bus to Washington where we toured for two days I think it was. I don't remember much except sleeping on the tour bus and staying up late to watch the republican convention get ready to nominate Barry Goldwater.
We finally ended up in Valley Forge to camp with maybe 50,000 other boy scouts and leaders. That was when the really muggy heat began. Sticky humidity in the Pennsylvania countryside. Sweltering, sticky humidity. Salt tablets. Skip Platz my 16 year old tentmate and his big schlong. The weather was so hot we didn't even want to wear anything to sleep in. I was only 13. Mine hadn't gotten that big yet. You bet your bottom dollar I was curious and looked.
But that was okay. Not like the damn heat. The weather. That awful, humid, eastern summer muggy climate. Oh my God I thought I am NEVER leaving San Diego again!
But I did ten years later, when I moved to Washington D.C. -- a poet going to the capital.
But that was in November. So I didn't feel the heat again until May of 1975 when I suddenly remembered. Oh yeah...
Back east is horrible climate. Out west is better. On the coast near the ocean. The cooling, calming ocean. Pacific.
Well, usually....