Category Archives: USA

Philadelphia and Vermont, September 2026

Holiday, Travel, USA, , , , , , ,

My brother lives in Burlington Vermont with his wife and daughter. Vermont is a rural state with a population of approximately 640,000 residents (only Wyoming has less people) and impossible to fly directly from Europe. When I visit I fly via a city that has a direct connection from Ireland and an onward connection to Burlington International Airport (the once a week flight to Toronto Canada renders it international). Two years ago I visited from Chicago. Last year was via Montreal (only an hour’s drive away). This year I almost selected New York as my departure point until I looked at the catastrophic hotel prices in Big Apple. Checking which US cities had connections to Burlington, my choices were Atlanta, Denver, Seattle or Philadelphia. Philadelphia was the option I selected – the flight times and prices were the best on offer – plus it was a city I had always wanted to visit.

The journey to Philadelphia was rather stressful. At least the start of it.

Rocky st

Flying from Ireland involves US pre-clearance so you are already in the US before the flight departs and you land in a domestic terminal upon arrival. I was informed that I had been ‘randomly selected’ for additional TSA security screening.

My bags were opened and every item was swabbed and tested. Then I was patted down in a thorough fashion. Very thorough. Thankfully my clothes remained on but every inch of me was inspected. Front and back. Up and down. It was nice of him to give me advance warning what he was doing at each stage I guess?

Afterwards came border security where the stone-faced gentleman questioned me. I had my brother’s address on my phone to provide to him. Eventually I was let through while a framed picture of Donald J Trump smirked at me from the wall behind the desk.

Arriving at Philly I decided that if I would take the public bus to the hotel in the town of Essington close to the airport from where I would depart for Vermont the next day. I boarded it like Sandra Bullock in ‘Speed’ and looked ay my fellow passengers. Some had seen better days. Most in fact. When I disembarked I didn’t waste time. There was an eerie vibe about the neighbourhood. Silent but a little sinister.

After checkin I went to the 24 hour New Philly Diner next door for a Philly cheesesteak and broccoli (the waitress asked if I wanted fries or Mac and Cheese as a side. The human in me craved either or both. However the Type 1 diabetic in me selected the broccoli).

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Chicago, Vermont and a very small Murphy

Solo travel, Travel, Uncategorized, USA, , , , ,

In January of this year, Aer Lingus had a sale. I checked out the destinations and found a six day return trip to Chicago for 395eur in September. That was a steal so I booked it immediately. Having travelled to Chicago a quarter of a century earlier, I did not have any abiding memories of the city. That earlier excursion had been in August and was three days at the end of a fortnight’s journey to New York, Boston and Chicago. I remember the stifling humidity of August, my friend urgently requiring a toilet while in Boystown after a burger went down the wrong way, and me getting trapped in a different toilet.

Back in the twentieth century I had two regular traveling companions with whom I travelled each year. Usually at the end of our holiday we needed a break from each other and we’d take an ‘alone day’ where we’d do our own thing and then meet for dinner and drinks later. I think I went to a bookshop. I selected a diner for lunch and had a sandwich. After my meal I repaired to the restroom, to a cubicle. Unfortunately the door would not unlock for me after my business was finished, and I ended up calling for assistance from the laughing waitress, while being a luminous shade of puce. I remember her comment ‘don’t worry, you’re not the first that’s happened to.’ With 20/20 hindsight I wish I had replied ‘Maybe the door needs fixing then.’

This trip would be different. I was travelling alone and therefore would be marching entirely to the beat of my own drum. Travelling alone is not a challenge for me. About ten years ago I decided that the world was far too big to wait until others are ready to see it, and that if I have a yen to take a gander, then I should go right ahead. Happily when I make the booking I will often acquire a companion who will ask if they can come as well. Not this time however.

In March, a curveball flew in my direction. My youngest brother and his wife (whose wedding I attended in Ibidan, Nigeria last year) announced that they were expecting their first child on September 20th. My travel dates to Chicago were 18th to 24th September. They lived in Burlington, Vermont. A mere 900 miles / 1500 kilometres away. I took this as a sign that I was meant to travel to Vermont for a few days. A return flight from Chicago O’Hare to Burlington International Airport (one flight a week to Canada) was acquired.

My flight to Chicago departed on time at 3pm on Wednesday and lasted eight hours. I watched the films ‘The Bridges of Madison County’, ‘Singin’ in the rain’ and ‘Joker’ during the trip, where to my joy I had a row to myself.

I was staying at a grim little boarding house in Chinatown. This suited me fine. It had a bed, a table, chair and bathroom which is all I need. I wasn’t planning on doing anything there except sleeping. Chinatown is about four miles south of the famed Chicago Loop which would be classified as the main downtown, tourist area. I didn’t arrive till 9pm so that evening I stayed local and dined on sour fish soup in Friends BBQ in Chinatown.

I woke at 6am on Thursday (the six hour time difference meant my body thought it was lunchtime). I had an appointment at 11am for an architectural boat tour of the city. I estimated that it would take me about ninety minutes to reach the meeting point along the Chicago river. The plan was to take the Metro but the early morning sunshine was refreshing so I walked along the banks of Lake Michigan to reach the meeting point, stopping en route for a Korean breakfast of an egg tart, apple and bacon on toast, washed down with filter coffee.

I passed the famed Cloud Gate statue (more commonly known as The Bean as it resembles one) in Millennium Park. This is possibly the best known landmark of Chicago. I am not sure why. Although to see the majestic skyline reflected in the bean is impressive.

The architectural boat your was fascinating. In 1871 Chicago was a rapidly, expanding city of 300,000 residents. Mrs O’Leary’s cow knocked over a paraffin lamp (allegedly) resulting in nearly all of downtown burning to the ground, and one third of the population being displaced. Amazingly only 300 people perished in the fire which raged for days. Chicago became an architect’s dream as it was being rebuilt. A blank canvas – the skyscraper was invented in Chicago. The first skyscraper only had ten floors, but even that must have been a wonder in the 1870s. Various iconic buildings were shown to us including Willis Tower (pronounced locally as Sears Towers – at one time the world’s tallest building), Trump Tower and the St Regis tower – the 101 storey building by Jeanne Gang which is the tallest building in the world by a female architect.

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San Francisco open your golden gates

Gay, Holiday, Travel, USA, , , , ,

It was in 1999 that I first travelled to the land of the movies – the United States of America. My destination was California – San Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego to be precise. In the quarter century since that trip, I have revisited the country several times, usually to the East Coast. However, I have always harboured an inclination to return West. It just seemed too far though – involving an eleven-hour flight from Ireland – or too expensive. But still so appealing. When Aer Lingus had a sale last November, I got a shiver of anticipation when I noticed that a return flight from Dublin to San Francisco cost a mere three hundred euros, with a March travel date . I bought it instantly. Prices like those are rare. It was time to make my triumphant return to the city by the Bay.

Golden Gate Bridge

My memories of the city were magical. Being a 24-year-old gayling on my first trip there, it was a pilgrimage. The Greeks may have invented the Gay, but San Francisco had become one of the world’s major gay capitals since World War 2 when soldiers returning from war decided to remain in the coastal city rather than return to the Flyover Land of their birthplace. I travelled back then, with some friends from Dublin. We partied hard. I had a weeklong affair with a man from Virginia named Topher who I met in the Midnight Sun bar on my first night out. He introduced me to Jägermeister – that grotesque liqueur with mind altering powers. I went to work with him one day – he was a professional dog walker with a side business in selling marijuana to San Franciscan lesbians – the most Californian job I can think of. I bought the first of Armistead Maupin ‘Tales of the city; books in a second-hand bookshop in the Haight-Ashbury district – the district in town where the 1960s flower power, hippie movement began. My memories of that time are as golden as the bridge.

Painted Ladies

The flight to San Francisco was unpleasant as all long haul, economy flights tend to be. My traveling companion was arriving from London so despite the fact he had departed before I did, the pre-clearance for the US that happens in Ireland meant our arrival times were coordinated. After dumping my bags in my grotty Fillmore hotel (San Francisco is one of the most outrageously priced cities in the USA) we made our way to the Castro where we dined on Indian food and quaffed some refreshing G&Ts in Twin Peaks gay bar (this bar opened in the 1970s and was noteworthy for the fact that it had big open street level windows so passers-by could look in, and patrons could look out). It was emblematic of gay liberation – gay people were no longer banished to dingy, windowless basement – and the opening of the culture. Having invested in a public transport Muni card, we got the bus home and retired quite early – jetlag induced exhaustion was acute.

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