Not in Kansas Anymore: The First Week

3:00pm Wednesday March 19th- THE Day. I'd prepared in every way I could think of, I said the best goodbyes I knew how to say (which meant no goodbye for some), I ate two breakfasts, I paid my parking tickets, almost checked my horoscope before deciding that it was too cheesy and potentially misleading, made a playlist on my ipod labelled "new york!" (I even selected which song I wanted to be listening to the momment I walked on the plan, off the plane, out of the cab...), and I even found 2 minutes in the airport bathroom to do that wimpy little half cry that I do when I dont have enough time to be emotional. I showed up to the airport, full of energy and and ready to arm wrestle half of manhattan. The security line was quick, my 2 bags miraculously made it past check out and I was at the gate 2 hours early - so early I thought it appropriate to stop at the bar and drink a beer (and I dont drink beer) for the road (hypothetically).
6:56pm - flight delayed 4 hours, computer is on its last spit of battery, I've run through my entire "new york!" playlist 3 times, I'm sitting next to Mr. Lincoln, Nebraska on his way to St. Louis who looks at me like I have stripes when I answer that I'm moving to Manhattan, not for a job, not for a man, not even to a kitchen sink to call my own.
Him: "You don't say. Well, my hat is off to ya, young lady, it sher is."
Me: "Thanks. I mean everyone does this once right?"
Flight attendent over intercom: "Update for Fronter flight # blah blah, due to air traffic we have been delayed an additional 40 minutes..."
Some send off.

When I get into New York and finally manage to yank my two humongous bags from the clutches of the baggage carosal it is sheer and clear-skied. Having survived the cab line, Im beginning to feel, well, pretty darn daisy good - I really honest-to-god did it, didnt I! My temporary sense of relief vanishes, when, dragging my two collosal bags behind me, one in each arm, my computer and purse perched delicately atop each suitcase respectively, I view my perpetual New York nemesis - A big-ass curb. How am I supposed to get both my bags off of that curb without disrupting the delicate equilibrium of the balancing act that has allowed me to roll four bags equalling three times my weight behing me in Nine West heels, not to mention becoming 'that idiot' in an assembly line of delayed New Yorkers waiting for cabs (only in new york do you need a taxi line attendent from the Bronx directing cab line traffic)? I decide its like mountain biking, best to commit and it will be over soon anyway. Sure enough my nemesis claims its first win and my bags go toppling on my way to the cab. Without offering any help I hear a disgruntled groan from the cab line. Out of sheer adrenaline I find the superhuman strength to drag all four bags on their sides to the cab and arrive inside, panting.

Manhattan rose out of the Hudson River in the earliest dark hours of the morning like some living breathing oil painting, wily and self-admitedly beautiful, winking at me in the middle of the night like some sleezy, overconfident jazz musician who knows he had your whole soul at the first note. I'm irritated, overtired, groggy and disappointed at my anti-climactic arrival into the city and I tell New York from the cab window - "oh why dont you just go shove it, Manhattan. Im here aint I?" It just sort of winks back with one eye and then the other, all yellow windows, big chests of buildings into a clear sky, the shining pearly bridges hanging around its neck, and suddenly I am all smiles, chin on hand and watching it grow closer as the cab approaches at what feels like 180 miles an hour, all the images and memories of the life I left behind rushing underneath us. And I know we are going to be very good friends, this New York and I.

My friend Erika and her grandmother have been kind enough to put me up for a week or so, at least until I can find a place to squat until I can find the next place and maybe the next place after that, depending. For the moment it is a 70;s style apartment in Stuy. town just above the East Village, decorated in all kinds of glassware and lace and now, after 5 days of living here, a combination of Erika and my many many clothes and shoes. The first few morning hit me like a semi, with nothing remotely familliar, nothing resembling anything that I had ever loved and a siren whining on its way to the nearby hospital, one of the largest in the city. Not knowing if I could cope with the feeling of lost and lonely anxiety that came over me as soon as Erika left for work, I went back to sleep and slept in a ball on the northeast corner of the bed for an extra 3 hours. Finally I found the courage to dig up a clean pair of socks, a jacket, a scarf and ventured out to find my first cafe with free wireless or a cupcake, whichever came first.

The first few days went quickly - I was breathless with excitement, shell shocked, in denial, positively sick for parts of my old life that I suddenly wanted back, and covered in self satisfaction - I had DONE it. The city was kind to me these first few days, sunny, crisp, darling, and freckled with interesting things, subjects, people, store-fronts, strange rat-dogs in christmas sweaters that walked more like beetles rather than dogs due to their short little legs. Right away I saw myself in the place. I found that contrary to what I thought before I left Colorado, my boot collection is sadly insufficient for a proper female new yorker. However, I indeed walk as fast, or faster, Ive found then 75% of all New Yorkers, not counting old people and children in the calculation. The second day a woman on the subway came up to me and said "Im sorry I just had to say, you have the best new york style! I would know, Im a tour guide. You make the city look good! Do you go to FIT (NY Fashion Institute of Technology)". I didn't tell her that I'd only been in New York for one day, that I was wearing the same outfit that I had on yesterday (including socks) and that I'm very sorry but she is sadly mistaken. Evidently looking frightened, out of place and dishevelled is fashionable these days...Erika and I ate different kinds of food every night, drank wine, inadvertently memorized the Saks Fifth Avenue online catalog and stayed up late dissecting our careers and past relationships, while trying to solve the world's psychological issues. On Friday we met Erika's cousin and some other friends out at a bar in Times Square, quickly became outrageously intoxicated (only half our fault) and pranced around Times Square like a bunch of visiting Texans. We spent Saturday recovering and I met two wonderful new friends, Ricky and Catherine (Cynthia if you are reading this, I love them!) tried out a new cupcake place in the east village and came upon the worlds largest public pillow fight in Union Square (not kidding, hundreds of people covered in feathers participating in an organized pillow fight. You could see the feathers in the air for a 5-block radius. Only in New york). For easter I took a train up noth to Poughkeepsie to see the only family I have on this side of the Mississipi and I've never been so grateful for old fashioned Irish cooking!
Before a week was up I was pushing my way onto the subway at Rush hour, walking from downtown to uptown in 5 inch heels to avoid taking a cab, using acronyms like "UES", introducing myself to strangers and doing all kinds of other things that in any other city would probably have me committed. And this is how I became a New Yorker.

So about my living situation. Craigs List. It is the bomb. $1100 a month for two months sublet (cheap for manhattan), a meeting at Starbucks on 75th and 1st with two girls, one workign at a Law firm, the other at Vanity Fair, and bam! I have two new friends, one new roomate and a place to sleep on the Upper East Side for the next two months. Saturday move in. Now what to do about a bed...

A job - Ive had several information meetings, one at the NY Times, another with a very nice woman at Entertainment Weekly, and THE meeting to beat all others, one with an EVP at a major cosmetics brand (thank you VERY much to my mother). This latter and by far the most memorable had to be with the second nicest woman on earth, second only to my mother, aka wonderwoman. Smart, petite, a working mother, an EVP and the most warm and inviting person you've ever met, this woman was something else! I walked into her office after clearing security (its like getting through the airport just to get to the elevators) with a panorama view of all of downtown Manhattan, and me, this little windblown nobody, scared out of my mind and before I know it we are talking about books, kids, Gen Y, fashion, shovelling snow and just about everything else I could blather on about in my usual verbal diarreah kind of way. She spent two hours with me, promised she would circulate my resume among the departments there and said goodbye as gracefully as she had met me "Thank you so much for taking the time" (me, take the time for her?). Before I knew what hit me I was standing out in front of their offices on fifth avenue going, 'wait WHAT just happened?'

Today, a week after it all began, it is a foggy and spitting, so that the usual little bit of loneliness is getting in around the edges and I'm wondering what is to become of me in this great big place. But now its about remembering why I came, how I got here and who helped me (all of you!). We as people are always composed of multiple things, our memories and how we choose to remember them, our hopes for ourselves, our expectations for ourselves, what matters and what matters the most. I heard two people in a coffee shop talking the other day, one of the two saying to the other that he thought we are all a reflection of who and what we love as well as who loves us. If this is true, then I know I am right to have the utmost hope in my future here in NY - because Im sure that no one person could ever be luckier to have people like you all out there in my corner, cheering me on in all the ways you have and continued to support me on this grand adventure!
New Yorkers always say to newcomers one of the most important things to remember in New York as you walk around these massive canyons among all these people, their lives, loves, stories and sagas (and fabulous outfits!)- don't forget to look up once in a while!

I know this is a super long post, but since you all are familiar with my run-on talking habit and given that I had a week to catch up on, I figured I could get away with it. Maybe your worlds were getting just a little bit too quiet without me around these days. :)

Cheers for now, old chaps!