July 22. Something Closed, Something Gone, Something Good.

My first port of call was the splendid Museum of TV and Radio, where you can rent a viewing booth and ask to see almost anything ever broadcast. At least you can if it's open, which it wasn't because it's closed on Mondays. I didn't know this. A MoTaR official kindly scribbled the days of the week on a leaflet for me, and marked the ones on which they were open.

I took in a few other sights and walked along 5th and 7th avenues in the scorching 90s+ heat. Michael Weber had recommended I pay a visit to Coliseum Books on 7th. Unfortunately, they had ceased trading, as I discovered when I reached the scaffold-clad empty shell of their former premises. Ever get the feeling it's just not your day?

In the afternoon I met up with Seth Kramer, a highly successful professional magician. We relaxed in the cool opulence of the 8th floor bar/bistro of the Times Square Marriott, which was the perfect place for my tired feet to recuperate. There is a notion that magic enthusiasts can only talk about magic, but this definitely does not apply in Seth's case. He is a man of extraordinarily diverse knowledge and interests (more details if you click on his photo). 

In the evening, Seth and I went uptown to see Monday Night Magic (my third magic show of the trip). We met with my friend Marc Salem, the world's most commercially-successful mind-reader, and his lovely wife Tova. MNM was good, featuring Michael Chaut, Todd Robbins, Chris McDaniel and Jeff Moche. There were quite a few Brits present, including ex-pat Simon Lovell, who entertained with close-up magic during the interval. As is usually the case, the after-show restaurant get-together was as much fun as the show.

July 23. An Appointment With The Narcotics D.A.

My first port of call was the splendid Museum of TV and Radio, where you can rent a viewing booth and ask to see almost anything ever broadcast! At least you can if you go when it's open, which it is on Tuesdays... but only from 12 noon onwards. I didn't know this because the MoTaR man from yesterday didn't mention it. What does he think I am... a mind reader?

I would have gone back at noon except that I had a lunch appointment with my friend Peter Kougasian, who is not only an accomplished magician but also the Assistant D.A. to the New York Special Prosecutor's office, Narcotics division.

For lunch, Peter took me to Forlini's in Little Italy, an unofficial NYPD favourite where all the booths are named after police officers. Peter wanted to ask me about cold reading and magic, and I wanted to ask him about famous crimes and TV cop shows. It was one rollercoaster of a conversation, and I'm surprised either of us found time to eat anything.

Forlini's is one very fine restaurant, by the way. Pay a visit if you can, but just don't do anything illegal while you're there. At any given time, Forlini's is simply packed to the rafters with off-duty law enforcement officers. I'd love to be there on the day that a particularly dumb criminal, unaware of Forlini's very special clientele, decides to try something illegal. He is going to have a very, very bad day.

After lunch, Peter walked me over to Ground Zero, just a few blocks from his office. Everything that can be said about Ground Zero has been said already, and by scribes far better than me. The crater where the Towers used to be was simply indescribable, and nothing could have prepared me for the shock of seeing this vast, tragic absence. I was also astounded to see the various office blocks and skyscrapers on the immediate perimeter of Ground Zero, which are entirely undamaged.

As well as visiting Ground Zero itself, I also spent some time at St. Paul's Chapel (off Trinity Church) which has become a shrine to the victims of terrorism and the heroes of 9/11. It was poignant and moving beyond words. If you click on the photo above, you will see some of the very sad and moving images from St. Paul's.

July 24. Mission To Niagara.

This was my Mission Impossible day, the aim being to get to Niagara Falls and back in a single day.

7am. Took a yellow cab to JFK airport, there to catch my 9.35am Jet Blue flight up to Buffalo.

9.35am. I have had happier flights. To my left: Screaming Hell Child with a larynx that could punch holes in steel. Directly behind me: the All-American Coughing Champion (freestyle non-covered division). I sat through the whole flight with my finger in my left ear and a handkerchief over my mouth, saying "It's only an hour's flight, it's only an hour's flight...".

10.50am. Arrived in Buffalo. I had three options.

(1) Rent a car. I didn't feel this was the best time for my first attempt at driving in the USA.

(2) The once-an-hour tourist Shuttle Bus. I didn't want to wait, and I got the impression this would only visit the American side, whereas it's essential to reach the Canadian side.

(3) Hiring my own personal taxi and tour guide. 5 hours for $160.

I took option (3). It may be the most expensive way to see the Falls, but it is also the laziest, easiest and most sure-fire. My driver had done the whole thing a hundred times before, so he knew exactly where to go, what to say to the Border Nazis as we entered Canada, and exactly where I should go for optimum touristy activity.

At the Falls, the first thing I saw was a pair of red double-decker buses. These were almost exactly like the ones we have in London. The difference was that these were actually carrying people around in a useful way, as opposed to crawling drearily through thickly congested roads full of holes, litter and homeless people.

I happily surrendered myself to Niagara tourism machine. First I booked myself on a Maid Of The Mist boat ride. There are actually three MOTM boats working in rotation, but even so they can barely keep up with demand. The staff give out plastic cover-alls with a cheery promise that you will get wet (in English and French). This is an understatement. MOTM boats go right up to the base of the Falls, where the spray forms a permanent low-lying mist of clingy wetness. Everyone gets thoroughly soaked. It's actually good fun, of a kind normally enjoyed only by small children with unsupervised access to a hose pipe.

I was also intrigued by the noise the water makes as it cascades with palpable violence over the rock face. It was like the loudest white noise in the world, a horribly amplified and endless roar of shapeless sonic bullying.

This is what the MOTM ride looks like from a safe distance:

And this is the view if you're actually on one:

Click on either of the above for more photos of the Falls.

Still thoroughly moist from my MOTM excursion into the jaws of death, I strolled over to the Table Rock restaurant complex. The restaurant itself is the just the standard array of junk food franchises, all the food that's fit to die from, ker-chinging their way to a daily fortune. The outside balcony is where tourists congregate to gawp at the awesome majesty of the Falls, take pictures they will treasure forever, and scream at their kids.

The view is truly stunning. The only way to get closer to the Falls is to go over them in a barrel, which, of course, several reckless fools have done over the years, not all of them fatally.

The saddest sight at Niagara Falls is that of the tourists whose tickets, passports or lack of a passport mean they are stuck on the American side of the canyon. It is just possible to get a glimpse of the Falls from the American side, but it's a bit like trying to look at your own left ear.

Fun with statistics: more than 168,000 cubic metres (6 million cubic feet) of water go over the 'Horseshoe' crestline every minute during peak daytime tourist hours.

For my third stop, I took a ride to the top of the Skylon Tower, where the observation platform offers the finest views of all. The platform is surrounded by wire mesh for safety, but the gaps are thankfully big enough to aim a camera through.

Some say the view is even more amazing at night, when the Falls are rather controversially switched off to conserve water (click on image for enlarged version and to read more about this controversial policy):

4pm. My diligent taxi driver took me back across the border and into Buffalo.

7.15pm. Flight back to JFK. A much better flight. No little darlings screaming their lungs inside out, and no-one coughing up amusing themes and variations on the Ebola virus.

8.50pm. Back to NY city. Went to Penn station and booked my Amtrak ticket to Providence, Rhode Island, for tomorrow.

9.30pm. Back in hotel. Got some food, collapsed. I'd done it! I'd visited Niagara Falls, and gained memories that will last a lifetime.

> > > Continued in Part 4

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