3.

Danny’s flight back to Orlando was at 4 p.m. the following day. We went to a bar to pass the time. He loved to talk, and I didn’t mind listening. His spirits were high considering how big a night he said he’d had. I tried to make eyes with a big-nosed girl further down the bar, much to her eventual annoyance.

‘What’s with this fucking guy?’ she said to her friend, loud enough for me to hear. ‘He a fucking bird-watcher or something? Hey, yo! Do I look like a fucking bird to you?’ she yelled down the bar.

‘Yeah, a toucan!’ Danny countered before the embarrassment could even hit me. We doubled over in laughter.

‘Fucking assholes,’ she muttered, shaking her head and going back to her drink.

‘Damn, that was mean,’ I said to Danny.

‘Hey, man, she was mean first. Gotta live and let live, ya know.’

‘I don’t think you’re using that correctly …’

‘Aren’t I? Eh, whatever.’ We both cracked up again and ordered another round.

Laughing and swaying, we walked east along 34th. We didn’t know each other, but it felt good to have something close to a friend. I carried Danny’s bag for him until we got to the subway station.

‘Was awesome meeting you, my man,’ Danny said as he went in for a handshake and I missed.

‘You too. I’m glad you talked me into that drink.’

‘Enjoy the rest of your trip. New York is great, but if you’ve got the time you should check out some other cities. There are great ones all over this country.’

‘I don’t doubt that, but my flight home is in a few days. I think I’ll just stay around here.’

‘All good, man. Take care,’ he said, throwing his bag over his shoulder and heading down the stairs.

I stood for a moment and felt a familiar wave of loneliness wash over me. I turned and began walking. A hand tapped me on the shoulder.

‘Actually, take this,’ Danny said, dropping his bag to the ground, pulling out a pad and pen.

He handed me a small, torn-off piece of paper reading ‘Danny’ and a phone number.

‘Hit me up if you ever find yourself in Orlando.’

‘I don’t know why I would be …’

‘Well, take it anyway,’ he said. ‘You never know when it might come in handy.’

And like that, he was gone again.

The following days in New York City were more of the same. An abundance of wealth and poverty, footpath collisions, honking horns, bright lights and dark corners, big personalities getting caught up in little issues and me somewhere in the middle of it all. I wandered more and more of the city, coming to grips with its enormity and the futility of trying to find anything particular there. The place was a circus where every worldly extreme collided at every moment. If some god had ever been reincarnated, only to be pushed into obscurity as he waited on the ears of passers-by while shaking an empty can, it would surely have happened in New York City.

I read the letter again, wondering what I’d expected to find and what my father had hoped to. Maybe he had a clearer vision in mind. Maybe he didn’t have one at all. To think he’d found something here worth staying for was insane, but to think some fire in him burnt so strongly that he’d pursued this elusive meaning from city to city across America trying to find it, was something else. He may have been a loser, but he was ballsy, I’d give him that much.

The doors of the bus wheezed open outside the departure terminal of JFK. I wrestled my bags over my shoulders and walked in. Large screens listed flight numbers, destinations and delays. My flight home popped up. I imagined touching down in Australia, Claire greeting me, and the sad, perpetual nothing of my days starting all over again. Another screen refreshed to another list of places – most within the United States – all with their own history, people and stories; their own beauty and ugliness. I waited with my back against the wall as the minutes fell away. Screens updated as flights arrived, boarded and departed – others taking their place in an endless, indifferent cycle. I watched mine update to pre-boarding, but I didn’t move. The clock hand continued moving and my flight began boarding, but still I didn’t budge. I heard my name called over the PA system three separate times then watched as my flight updated to: ‘CLOSED’.

I walked back outside and boarded a bus to Manhattan.