Game over.

We get off the plane at JFK and get on the A Train [yes Mark and Ian, the A Train] and the culture shock is immediate. I'm trying not to stare at the guy on my right. He looks like Rab C Nesbit got a part as an extra in a Rocky film, he's got a Daffy Duck Tattoo on his left arm with a scroll beneath it that reads 'MOM'. Then three B-Boys enter the other end of the carriage with a stereo and start breakdancing to Grandmaster Flash's 'White Lines'.
Welcome to New York.
After dumping our bags at 113th Street we get back on the subway to Madison Square Garden to watch WWE RAW Presents Escape the Rules. We've missed the first hour of the show, which, I tell myself is filled with jobbers anyway. We get there. They don't let us in. FUCKING DEVASTATED doesn't start to describe it. Stop laughing you bastards!
Faced with such upsetting events we looked introspectively at out British heritage and did what Tiggers do best. Find a bar and order drink.
The jet lag wasn't an issue till we tried to sleep, or rather tried to stay awake this morning. We've been hanging around the Village all day. It's Gay pride this weekend and today's celebrated minority are our lesbian friends. There are loads and people and cars adorned with rainbow flags, it's all very summary. If you don't know what gay pride is about (and I admit I'm far from informed) then a woman wearing a shirt that reads "It's MR. dyke to you!" should give you a hint. Highlight of the afternoon had to be the three guys breakdancing in Washington park, and the point where one stood upright and spun the other on his head. They were really good street entertainers and they could bust some fucking good moves as well. Result.
I'm sweaty and hungry, so we're off back to the hostel to make ourselves smell nice for NYC.