A while back our family took a trip to the East Coast to see some friends and relatives.
I won’t bore you with the details of our travels but I did learn some things on that trip, even if it only was a couple of weeks, and some may be worth sharing. Here are a few observations I’m offering for what they’re worth (which is probably not what I paid to get Internet access in New York and Washington €“ more on that later…):
New Yorkers are not all jerks.
I’ve heard for years how people in the Big Apple are cold and unfeeling and would just as soon spit on you as you lie in the gutter than lend a hand.
Well, despite the fact that my family and I were pretty obviously tourists (backpacks, cameras, credit cards), we found that the locals were pretty quick to help when asked. They don’t go out of their way to make contact with you; in the subways and buses they hardly ever look you directly in the eye if they don’t have to.
But if you break through their little no-eye-contact wall of protection, they’ll share their expertise in city survival. We had some good experiences with the subways and, more specifically, finding the subways, by just asking for help. I guess people everywhere generally are happy to share what they know.
North Carolina is not the place to race.
In a state where stock car racing was not only born but is booming, there are more cops than I’ve ever seen in my life.
I drove the length of New Jersey and Delaware, through parts of Pennsylvania, through Virginia, without seeing more than one sheriff’s deputy or highway patrol car every 50 or 100 miles €“ if that.
But in North Carolina, where we also drove pretty much the length of the state, there were cops everywhere. It seemed like there was one every 10 or 15 miles, sitting by the side of the freeway or actually pulling somebody over.
It was kind of odd, because traffic flowed at about the same rate of speed as it does here in Oregon or in California, except that it would slow slightly every so often to ease by the officer. Then we’d all accelerate to cruising speed again.
Freeways in Virginia show there can be a better way.
With the exceptions of Highway 20 east of Sweet Home and some of the streets here in Sweet Home that were laid out before city planning began, the roads don’t really hammer you too badly. I remember one Oregonian who visited me while I lived in California and complained lustily about the quality of the freeways down there.
I don’t know how they built those Virginia freeways but whatever they did, it works. Same, to a slightly lesser extent, in North Carolina.
I’ve driven in Georgia and South Carolina before, and I don’t remember their pavements being outstanding, but these were some of the best roads I’d ever been on. Few, if any, potholes. None of those deep grooves from tire wear that pull your car around on the road and make your tires sing.
Just a smooth ride, as they say.
Road signs are for visitors and the East Coast states understand that.
It was great pulling into a city, even one like Washington, D.C. that is very complex, and seeing signs alerting you of major upcoming exits as far away as three or four miles. And what is even greater is that the information on the signs is consistent, so you’re not suddenly left wondering if you’ve missed an exit or if the turn-off or destination you think you’re going to suddenly has a different name.
Ever tried to find your way around in Salem or Eugene? The few highway signs (a) are usually posted so close to the exits that you barely have time to change lanes before the exit is upon you, (b) usually are limited to (it seems) one sign per exit, and (3) if there are more than one sign, the information is so inconsistent that you’re left wondering if they’re talking about the same exit you are. Salem’s the worst. The sign says “State Street” but is it the one to take you to the coast? Is this Highway 22 west?
Shoot, you can see through these woods!
I now know why people prefer to hunt white-tails.
Driving down the freeways in late March on the East Coast, it suddenly hits me: I can see through the woods! Unlike Oregon, which is covered by evergreen forests, most of the Atlantic Seaboard states are filled with hardwoods. They lose their leaves in the wintertime and, presto, you can see way into the forest €“ I figured at least 100 yards or more.
Cuts down on cover for game animals, especially compared to the blackberry thickets and conifers among which we live.
Fancy East Coast hotels aren’t as cutting-edge as you’d expect.
I’ve stayed a fair number of lodging houses throughout the West since the World Wide Web has become a part of everyday life and at most I haven’t had a lot of problems checking my e-mail. In fact, if you drive down the highway, a lot of cheap motels offer free Web access.
On this trip, thanks to the Web, I was able to nail some good deals on hotels nicer than those my family usually stays in €“ like a 4-star high-rise in New Jersey, across from NYC. (Prices are cheaper in New Jersey and it’s only a 15-minute bus or train ride across the Hudson River to the City.)
It was great, except that nothing was free €“ not even the Internet, despite the fact that the regular price to stay in some of the places was a couple of hundred dollars a night. (I didn’t pay that.) In one hotel I could get on in the lobby, along with about 25 other people who also apparently didn’t want to pay $9.95 a day for Web access.
You’d think that, in America’s commercial nerve center and political centers, they wouldn’t be holding you up for what really has become almost a necessity, especially in hotels that are new €“ built within the last few years. Not the case. Be prepared to fork over some bucks. Next they’ll probably decide to go green and charge for toilet paper.
Meet the tourists who aren’t from Asia.
Here on the West Coast I’ve been to a lot of tourist destinations, especially in California. If you go to Seattle or the Bay Area or Disneyland, most of the tourists tend to be from the East €“ Korea, China, Japan, India. Not so in New York or D.C. It was amazing how many Caucasian people were speaking languages I couldn’t even identify, let alone understand. It was truly a melting pot, particularly on the ferries to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. It sounded like the Tower of Babel.
After a couple hours in the stocks, I’ve decided against a life of crime.
I’m talking here about the wooden ones that you used to have to sit in after behaving poorly.
During a stop at Williamsburg, the historic colonial town, I decided to try out the stocks outside the courthouse. They were your typical setup, with holes for the scoundrel’s feet and hands, but these also had a 2×8 board turned vertically on its side as a seat for the one being punished. I never knew that the stocks experience included a horizontal wedgie.
It didn’t take me too long to figure out that it would be extremely uncomfortable to be locked into that contraption for more than a few minutes. Forget the rotten cabbage and the insults. Stocks hurt.
I know they used to nail people’s ears to the stocks and do other things that seem barbarous today, but considering all the reprobates who might benefit from a pain in the you-know-where that they apparently never got when they were young, those stocks may not be such a terrible way to cut down on crime.
If I had to sit in those things for a day, I might think twice before stealing a bike out of somebody’s garage or driving under the influence.