You'd think JFK airport can afford more than three immigration officers on duty at a time. Welcome to New York. The queue slowly winds, another officer takes a break. Finger prints, picture, suspenseful wait, and I'm through. 

The Uber driver was so eager for me to jump in quickly, obviously every minute counts and time is money, that we only realise I was not his intended passenger after we had already set off. Loud music, smelly car, and he keeps checking the phone while driving. I'm hoping for the best. Then Manhattan nighttime skyline appears and in spite of my 'post flight' headache I get excited with anticipation of the next few days.

My friend Alan opens the door with a big smile and I know everything will be fine. Lovely quiet flat, in the heart of Broadway. Although I'm used to living high up, looking down from the balcony makes me feel dizzy. A somewhat drunk man waves from the roof opposite (how did he even get there?) shouting hello. I'm in New York.