Sleeping Around in NY. Dee does Gotham.

The Life of a Gypsy.

If anyone had told me that at 60-something I’d be making the rounds of NY, schlepping some well-traveled suitcases, I’d have called them insane in a New York minute! Yet, on this journey, I’ve slept in beds from Fifth Avenue to Brooklyn Heights, from Gramercy Park to Harlem – the best of the best locations with a hot tub on the roof, and the lowest of the low in a 5^th floor Bklyn walkup.

But here I am, dragging 3 suitcases and a courier bag with my entire summer wardrobe, being a gray nomad in the Big Apple. I used to be judgmental about street people; now I think “there, but by the grace of god, go I.”

I am the dee-touring queen in my circle of friends and family, but how I got to explore the 5 boroughs of NY while practically penniless, is a story itself. Having wanderlust is fine, being a wayfarer is not.

Unlike the thousands of tourists grabbing snapshots of themselves in Times Square, I actually work there – for a travel agency, no less. I snake my way through the throngs on Broadway and enter 130 W. 42^nd St. with my suitcase du jour to the wonderment of the staff.

“Where did you sleep last night, Dee?” they ask. “On 20^th Street across from the house where Theodore Rooselvet was born.” “In Brooklyn where “Moonstruck” was filmed as Olivia Ducakis’ house.” “In Queens with a Chihuahua.” And my favorite, “the YWCA residence where nothing of importance ever happened, not even a cat on the premises.”

If Lou hadn’t gotten sick, I would have crashed last night at his TV production studio near Madison Square. Instead, I tried a trendy new hotel with a flatscreen TV so I could watch some golden, Olympic beach volleyball.

Soulmate Cheryl called during this sleepover, herself just back from sleeping around Alaska. She said I should write about my experiences as if just one of my many interesting journeys in which I usually uncover local characters and hidden gems.

I met a “character” when I was in Costa Rica last month, a New York native with a swanky penthouse in Manhattan’s upscale Gramercy Park. When I was tired of living out in Queens, I accepted his his offer. “If you’re ever in NY and need a city play pen, let me know.” If I hadn’t been desperate for a place to crash, I might have asked what kind of playpen – but I digress. I barley had unpacked, when the bank foreclosed and the power was cutoff. Never knew a millionaire before who had to declare bankruptcy.

Moving right along, I struck out with youth hostels (my age was way above that of their upper limit) and took at stab at the Ys. The YWCA of Brooklyn is an imposing 10 story structure with 200 female residents.

I booked a room with private bath for 3 nights and sorted through my belongings for the exchange table. I picked up a linen blouse and crystal wine glass and left a yellow t-shirt, pair of sneakers, and misc bric brac weighing down my bags. The haul was a bonus; can’t say the same for the twin set I slept on.

Next I had an offer in the country. My friends from Australia actually live in a converted barn over the former chicken coop in Bethel Woods where Woodstock happened 39 years ago – but no wifi or Blackberry reception. Only one night in that bed.

Craig’s List was my next attempt to find a cosy place to live/work so I can finish my project remotely. Going into Manhattan by subway every day gets old!

Here’s where six degrees of separation comes into play. I searched for a room or sublet in Lake Placid, about 30 mintues away from the Village of Jay where I once spent a year on sabbatical learning to be a travel writer on an electric Smith Corona. The Adirondack National Park is the place that Teddy Roosevelt said “Bankrupts the English language.”

I have never forgotten how wondrous the place is, and how placid my time there.

Bingo, I found a 3 bedroom for $700 a month in the Village of Jay! I replied to the advertiser that my Farrell family had ren and fishing ted PO Box 111, Jay, NY for nigh onto 45 years, and that I still could remember my days photographing covered bridge along the Au Sable River between Jay and Upper Jay. Upper Jay had the larger population, circa 600, if memory serves. Of course, everyone knows everyone in a place that size. Lee with the house to rent? He remembers my father-in-law visiting his craft store over the years. Probably had been invited out to dinner at the A-frame on Alder St.

I think I’m going to like sleeping around upstate.

-Dee Farrell is a vagabond with a laptop, currently recharging in New York.