In the end missed my connecting flight to New York from Pennsylvania because I didn't realise there was an hour time difference between Chicago and Pennsylvania. Doh!
But Pennsylvania was such a busy and noisy airport and the sound of the nasal whiny accents over the loudspeaker for a few hours, made me feel like I was just over the whole America thing. Or maybe over the whole American airport thing.
Arrived in New York at a YMCA in Brooklyn only to find I had to drag my bags up two flights of stairs. And the room is little more than a pink prison cell. But there was this play outside the (prison cell) window - kids in the park playing softball in little uniforms, families walking up and down, some kind of musical jam session and Mr. Softee running around and now people are letting off fireworks. I think it might be a Mexican neighborhood or just everyone speaks Spanish, or is black. That sense of community they have.