First of all, please excuse the nerdiness of a rhyming page title. Not really my style, but it just worked to well to not use it.
While the previous page displayed my sentimental side, page twenty-eight will depict absolutely no sentiment whatsoever. After reading this you will only view this Texan as a clumsy idiot with an odd magnetism to strange situations and even stranger people.
Rachel and I, after much debate decided that not going out in the city one last time before she headed home would just be criminal. We raced back to Jersey, got ourselves as cute as a humid sticky basement will allow and then made our way back to the city. Note: don't even try to wear jeans or pants of any kind in humidity like that. There is no hope. You might as well not even straighten your hair or put on make-up.
We met up with the crew of interns that I found myself surrounded by all summer long, in the same booth that I have found myself sitting in all summer long. Like a typical Rach and the Texan night would go, we managed to find friends of the Italian descent. Go figure. Also remaining in perfect Rach and the Texan character, we managed to find a Duane Reade to satisfy our perpetual Goldfish and Trail-Mix craving.
Rach and two of the Italians waited outside while I went in with Nico, the third and most studly Italian, on a desperate search for crunchy goodness. I was wearing a pair of grey peak-toes that were my moms until she realized once and for all, after years of convincing, that she is not 26 anymore. They are out of this world high and are painful even to my completely numb feet.
I took about two steps down the flight of stairs before my big show. I missed a step or slipped or tripped or stumbled and found myself tumbling head-first to what I thought would be my inevitable demise. Nico grabbed my right foot trying to be a hero and thank God he did. Miraculously I was granted another chance at life.
The entire Duane Reade staff rushed to my rescue which makes me wonder how loud of a thud I made. They thought they were going to have to call an ambulance, I swear. I assured them I was fine in between my obnoxious and uncontrollable laughter. They quickly jumped on my dramatic plunge as the perfect opportunity to try to sell me every medicine, bangage, pair of flip-flops they had in that place. Somehow, I ended up standing at the register with a $17.00 total.
Excuse me Duane Reade, I don't have brain damage. I just want my Goldfish, Ok? (A new bag of course, because I crushed the first bag into crumbs.)
So I relay the tramatic experience to Rach wishing she had been there to see it. On to the next part of the adventure...the close call part.
We are standing outside talking to the Italians. I didn't take into much consideration that the particular corner we were standing on was strangely empty. One of the Italians threw out a generous cocain offer. This Texan has a strict no hard drugs policy so I politely said, no thank you, have a good night, we're going to head home. Rachel and I turned around to see about 8 NFL sized black boys surrounding us. We squeezed out of the not-so-friendly looking semi-circle as quickly as possible.
Rachel is convinced she has a guardian angel and judging by her track record, I believe her. An off-duty cab was sitting on the corner and for some reason signaled to me saying he would take us. We got in and Rach told him to not let anyone in the cab besides us. Just drive, just drive, mister. The group of guys that seemed to magically appear were trying to follow us into the cab, so miracle man sped off.
To make matters worse, in the all of the commotion and cab jumping, Rach lost her cell phone. Of course.
Is the moral of the story this summer to stay away from Italian boys? Wolf in sheeps clothing, perhaps?
Nah, too pretty.
Page Twenty-Seven: Affection Was Never Wasted
As my time here is running short I find myself writing less and living more. I'm soaking up every last drop of this city. I think I look at it's sky line through different eyes now. I honestly cannot express what this place has meant in my life. It's stupid to even try to put it into words because I would never do the impact it's made any justice at all.
I've found friends I will remember forever. The people I've developed relationships are one's with big dreams and big personalities and I'm dying to see what they will be up to a year from now. There's no doubt in my mind each of them will be diving deep into big things. With 5 days left in NYC, I can't help but get a little sappy. I came to the city to drown myself with the real world and I think I did just that.
I worked at a restaurant in Maine a couple summers back and my boss gave me a compliment I won't ever forget. "You know why I love you so much? Because you haven't been hardend by the world yet."
I didn't know what that meant. I didn't really know if that statement was even a compliment at all. Now I know that is. I hope I never become hardend by the world. I feel like I've lived in a place for the last 3 months, where everyone is a little hardened; a little tougher, a little meaner, a little colder and a little more worldly. I think I took from these people what I was meant to take. Caution, wisdom, stregnth, courage, selflessness, self-respect, desire, drive, a little fear even. I hope I rubbed off on this place a little, too.
My adventures in the city aren't over yet. I know what can happen in a short 5 days. In fact, my next page, page twenty-eight, will depict some of my most memorable adventures yet.
I'm so grateful for what this city has given me.
Page Twenty-Six: The Mafia Doesn't Exist
Thursday was bitter sweet. I sent Anna off and picked Rachel up. I wish I could put our vacation together into words. I'll start by saying the mafia does exist. Then I will tell you that we have befriended a few mobsters. Hopefully I won't regret saying any of this. Hopefully Don won't be sitting on my couch in a suit with a cigar tonight when I come home from work.
We have spent two of our evenings turned into nights on Mulberry St. drinking wine and having fake birthdays. After bottle number three, a version of the happy birthday song that had a raunchy, Italian undertone, and a free t-shirt, we headed with our new friends to the Mulberry St. Bar. There we taught the mafia men how to take a shot like a Texan and we snagged another free t-shirt. Rachel and I were wearing both of them by the end of the night.
The mafia does exist and they're a pretty rowdy crowd, if I do say so myself. Who knew people who looked just like my grandpa could be so much fun?
Later we met up with two of my friends and they came back to my apartment with us. I spent the rest of the night and into the morning searching Direct TV tirelessly for Family Guy, laughing with the Asian boy, Andrew, Rachel and a precious Turkish boy who ironically is named Turk.
Let me set the scene:
Madison Ave. (a place where a girl like me really doesn't belong. I have a hard enough time purchasing trail-mix and Duane Reade.) The club was called Bruno and it was filled to the brim with people my parents age and older. Rachel and I ventured there with the mafia knowing that we live life like it's a movie script.
The man and the woman at the door knew that we were coming. The man greeted us and the woman said follow me. It didn't look like a club or a bar or a restaurant. It looked like an apartment building for the rich and famous. We walked down a hallway and then the woman pressed a button. The wall slid open and we walked inside to a table. Don handed the woman a roll of cash.
I learned to never walk in front of the boys in a place like this, because "you will get a better table if the men are in front". The mafia men didn't like our location. So with a raise of his hand and a whisper to our hostess, the woman found us a better table and kindly made the people sitting there move...so we could have it. Seriously?
Rachel and I danced the night away in a 45-year-old fashion.
Any description of my last couple of nights really do the real thing no justice at all. I have a funny life.
We have spent two of our evenings turned into nights on Mulberry St. drinking wine and having fake birthdays. After bottle number three, a version of the happy birthday song that had a raunchy, Italian undertone, and a free t-shirt, we headed with our new friends to the Mulberry St. Bar. There we taught the mafia men how to take a shot like a Texan and we snagged another free t-shirt. Rachel and I were wearing both of them by the end of the night.
The mafia does exist and they're a pretty rowdy crowd, if I do say so myself. Who knew people who looked just like my grandpa could be so much fun?
Later we met up with two of my friends and they came back to my apartment with us. I spent the rest of the night and into the morning searching Direct TV tirelessly for Family Guy, laughing with the Asian boy, Andrew, Rachel and a precious Turkish boy who ironically is named Turk.
Let me set the scene:
Madison Ave. (a place where a girl like me really doesn't belong. I have a hard enough time purchasing trail-mix and Duane Reade.) The club was called Bruno and it was filled to the brim with people my parents age and older. Rachel and I ventured there with the mafia knowing that we live life like it's a movie script.
The man and the woman at the door knew that we were coming. The man greeted us and the woman said follow me. It didn't look like a club or a bar or a restaurant. It looked like an apartment building for the rich and famous. We walked down a hallway and then the woman pressed a button. The wall slid open and we walked inside to a table. Don handed the woman a roll of cash.
I learned to never walk in front of the boys in a place like this, because "you will get a better table if the men are in front". The mafia men didn't like our location. So with a raise of his hand and a whisper to our hostess, the woman found us a better table and kindly made the people sitting there move...so we could have it. Seriously?
Rachel and I danced the night away in a 45-year-old fashion.
Any description of my last couple of nights really do the real thing no justice at all. I have a funny life.
Page Twenty-Five: The Chronicles of the Texans
I have had the most wonderful time with my little slice of Texas this past week. I send Anna off tomorrow morning just to see another smiling Texan come for a visit in the big city. I had no idea what it meant to have a visitor. Well, this is what it means...it means you go on a vacation yourself. When your supposed to be working/cleaning/slee
ping/saving money/etc...you're not.
When you're supposed to be tucked into bed before a big day at ABC you're standing in the pouring rain screaming your lungs out at a Dave Matthews concert.
When you're supposed to be eating a slice of cheese pizza for 2.75 for dinner, you're dishing out 15 bucks at a fancy italian place on 5th Ave.
When you're supposed to be dry cleaning all of the pencil skirts your mom let you borrow, you're stuffing one in a back pack with your wet swim suit and a tooth brush.
There are stories that will never be told and memories that will never be forgotten.
I played tour-guide like I'd lived here for years. She saw everything.
We made our commute everymorning and discovered a love for Dunkin Donuts coffee.
We went on a Coney Island adventure to meet up with Tom, the British boy. I'd never been there before and I loved it! We got food on the boardwalk and watched "Shoot the Freak" for a while. I will definately be making another day a Coney Island day.
It was absolutely gorgeous for her entire stay, until the day of the Dave Matthews concert. We didn't care though. We wore our swim suits anyways. As soon as we got to Long Island, we ran to the beach that was completely empty aside from the two life-guards, who I'm sure were annoyed to be working in the rain. We went swimming and dug up all the pretty shells we could find, then we finished off our box of Mike&Ikes so we could store them inside. Dave was simply amazing. The theater literally sits in the water. When the tide rose, people in the box seats were in water up to their ankles.
My mini-vacacation was wonderful and I'm sad to see Anna leave! It was so good to have a familiar face here for a while.
Safe travels Anna Banana, I hope you loved every second you spent in NYC...and Rach, I'll see you soon!
ping/saving money/etc...you're not.When you're supposed to be tucked into bed before a big day at ABC you're standing in the pouring rain screaming your lungs out at a Dave Matthews concert.
When you're supposed to be eating a slice of cheese pizza for 2.75 for dinner, you're dishing out 15 bucks at a fancy italian place on 5th Ave.
When you're supposed to be dry cleaning all of the pencil skirts your mom let you borrow, you're stuffing one in a back pack with your wet swim suit and a tooth brush.
There are stories that will never be told and memories that will never be forgotten.
I played tour-guide like I'd lived here for years. She saw everything.
We made our commute everymorning and discovered a love for Dunkin Donuts coffee.
We went on a Coney Island adventure to meet up with Tom, the British boy. I'd never been there before and I loved it! We got food on the boardwalk and watched "Shoot the Freak" for a while. I will definately be making another day a Coney Island day.
It was absolutely gorgeous for her entire stay, until the day of the Dave Matthews concert. We didn't care though. We wore our swim suits anyways. As soon as we got to Long Island, we ran to the beach that was completely empty aside from the two life-guards, who I'm sure were annoyed to be working in the rain. We went swimming and dug up all the pretty shells we could find, then we finished off our box of Mike&Ikes so we could store them inside. Dave was simply amazing. The theater literally sits in the water. When the tide rose, people in the box seats were in water up to their ankles.
My mini-vacacation was wonderful and I'm sad to see Anna leave! It was so good to have a familiar face here for a while.
Safe travels Anna Banana, I hope you loved every second you spent in NYC...and Rach, I'll see you soon!
Page Twenty-Four: The Homeland
The summer after my freshman year of college I headed up to our summer house like I have every year before. It was different that summer, though. For the first time in my life I was homesick and I felt like I had tasted real life and then got thrown back to pop-up-book land without any friends or cell phone service (Giant misconception, by the way. Bobcat Bucks and dorm life is not real life and 3 months without a cell phone actually does wonders for whiny little biotches like myself.)
I feel like I might be the most flexible, easily-assimilating person in the world. I don't meet too many strangers and chances are I will consider you a best friend within the first five minutes of our introduction. There are ups and downs to this, but I can't change it. I've tried.
My mom took me to the city at the end of my lonely, secluded summer to make up for my short-term depression. That's when I decided that I would spend every waking second of my sophomore year searching for an internship in New York City. I always knew I wanted to spend time here, so I googled and vault.com-ed it until my fingers fell off. I ended up with three interviews set-up for Christmas break. I knew I would work at Haute PR as soon as I met Robin. ABC didn't come until months later. I was lucky enough to get offered the job without even interviewing in person. Everything fell into place perfectly. I kept waiting for something to not work out...that kind of perfectly.
I never imagined that I would miss Texas in a place like this. How could I miss home in the center of world? I needed a new adventure and I was ready to get lost and be confused and broke and not have a mommy or daddy with a get-out-of-jail-free card. I got all of that and more.
I don't miss my parents too much. We talk all the time and I'm used to being away from them. I don't even miss my friends that much. I just miss home. I don't think I appreciated where I came from enough as I should have.
Nobody has a tattoo of Colorado or Kansas or New York, but everybody and their mother has a Texas tattoo. (Note: I'm not advocating or encouraging this. In fact, if you're considering paying respect to the homeland, for the love of God think of something a little less over-done and tacky.)
My Miss List:
1. My trusty Xterra, El Diablo.
2. Hot, summery, unbearable weather.
3. A tan.
4. Not having to wear heels and pencil skirts (Something I never thought I would say).
5. Commutes that take less than an hour.
6. Four drinks for the price of one NYC drink.
7. Jeans and boots.
8. MD20/20 with a straw.
9. The echo-spot by the library.
10. 7-11 cheese cubes and apples.
11. Mexican food.
12. The river.
13. Austin.
14. Wearing shorts.
15. 90's dance parties.
16. Pretending I know how to two-step.
17. Laughing at boys in Ed Hardy and Affliction shirts behind their backs.
18. Watching Cops.
19. Highway 35.
20. Big dogs.
21. Boys that love their big dogs and have good manners.
22. Sonic Diet Sprite with Sugar-free cherry.
23. Free Venti Un-sweetend Passion Tea when Anna's working at Starbucks.
24. The people who work the late shift at Dominoes.
25. Bringing a swim suit everywhere I go.
26. Doing push-ups in inappropriate places.
27. Nap time and playing outside.
28. Free Wi-Fi.
29. Quiet.
30. The less calm, less mature version of myself.
I feel like I might be the most flexible, easily-assimilating person in the world. I don't meet too many strangers and chances are I will consider you a best friend within the first five minutes of our introduction. There are ups and downs to this, but I can't change it. I've tried.
My mom took me to the city at the end of my lonely, secluded summer to make up for my short-term depression. That's when I decided that I would spend every waking second of my sophomore year searching for an internship in New York City. I always knew I wanted to spend time here, so I googled and vault.com-ed it until my fingers fell off. I ended up with three interviews set-up for Christmas break. I knew I would work at Haute PR as soon as I met Robin. ABC didn't come until months later. I was lucky enough to get offered the job without even interviewing in person. Everything fell into place perfectly. I kept waiting for something to not work out...that kind of perfectly.
I never imagined that I would miss Texas in a place like this. How could I miss home in the center of world? I needed a new adventure and I was ready to get lost and be confused and broke and not have a mommy or daddy with a get-out-of-jail-free card. I got all of that and more.
I don't miss my parents too much. We talk all the time and I'm used to being away from them. I don't even miss my friends that much. I just miss home. I don't think I appreciated where I came from enough as I should have.
Nobody has a tattoo of Colorado or Kansas or New York, but everybody and their mother has a Texas tattoo. (Note: I'm not advocating or encouraging this. In fact, if you're considering paying respect to the homeland, for the love of God think of something a little less over-done and tacky.)
My Miss List:
1. My trusty Xterra, El Diablo.
2. Hot, summery, unbearable weather.
3. A tan.
4. Not having to wear heels and pencil skirts (Something I never thought I would say).
5. Commutes that take less than an hour.
6. Four drinks for the price of one NYC drink.
7. Jeans and boots.
8. MD20/20 with a straw.
9. The echo-spot by the library.
10. 7-11 cheese cubes and apples.
11. Mexican food.
12. The river.
13. Austin.
14. Wearing shorts.
15. 90's dance parties.
16. Pretending I know how to two-step.
17. Laughing at boys in Ed Hardy and Affliction shirts behind their backs.
18. Watching Cops.
19. Highway 35.
20. Big dogs.
21. Boys that love their big dogs and have good manners.
22. Sonic Diet Sprite with Sugar-free cherry.
23. Free Venti Un-sweetend Passion Tea when Anna's working at Starbucks.
24. The people who work the late shift at Dominoes.
25. Bringing a swim suit everywhere I go.
26. Doing push-ups in inappropriate places.
27. Nap time and playing outside.
28. Free Wi-Fi.
29. Quiet.
30. The less calm, less mature version of myself.
Page Twenty-Three: Booked
Today's the big day! Anna made her first flight into Charlotte this morning, so now it's time to pray she makes it on to LaGuardia. I'm hoping my two bars of cell phone power last me the entire day. Anna and me at our finest-->
The PR girls (there's a new addition by the way, Daniela, from Canada. She's wonderful!) and I were in a cab running an errand for our boss. My ex-roommate and best friend, Rachel, called to tell me she bought a plane ticket to come see me...she arrives the day Anna leaves and she's staying until the day Charlie is supposed to come. Thus, page twenty-three's title. I'm booked. I can't stretch my smile wide enough.
Yesterday was spent at Haute PR, appeasing a client who seems to have bonded with me. The girls kept mentioning his name and their current task...the Business Plan...with a little bit of discouragment in their voices. I decided I was up for a challenge. We clicked. Now he won't work over the phone with anyone but me. To me, this is one of the funniest things that's transpired yet this summer. Old Richard. By the end of our third or fouth business call with each other, he was inserting jokes into the business plan when we were making updates.
I slept at Janes place again last night. I have the weirdest dreams when I sleep in that bunk bed for some reason. Weird, good though.
We met up with some friends at Van Diemens anniversary party. A night like that means Janie and the Texan eating pizza...getting in a cab...going somewhere...then realizing how dumb we are and returning to our comfort zone. The course of events typically look something like that. Throw in a creeper or two that we mistake for a trustworthy person we have known for years, and you've got the average New York City night with a group of interns playing grown-up in Manhattan for three months.
I just got a text from Anna saying that LaGuardia was looking good for her. My family flies for free so we gave her a buddy-pass to save her some moolah. That means she has to fly stand-by and play the waiting game that I grew accustom to by the age of 2. It's a fun game when it works.
She deserves to get here, though. She works harder than I ever have.
The money-saving/I'm-really-cheap-diet is going well. I still have $7.00, so things are looking up! I'm wearing my favorite scarf today. It's a pretty periwinkle that looks surprisingly good with red lipstick, something I wear when I'm feeling a little daring. I have the rest of my summer filling up nicely, doing things I never thought I would get to do with people I never thought would be here with me, yet I'm really most excited for the simple things.
Example: riding the bus over GW with Anna later today, making sure we get a seat on the left side so we can watch the city go by. It's my favorite part of everyday. I like to get sappy with it and listen to songs like Beautiful Mess by Jason Mraz. Too far, I know.
Today's Confession: Sorry, to guilty to fess up. You'll never know. It's a little combo. Half success, half mistake. Actually, let's go ahead and make that 40/60, success to mistake.
THIS JUST IN: ANNA MADE THE NYC FLIGHT! Told you she deserved this. That plane just can't fly fast enough!
Page Twenty-Two: My Big Debut
The other day I got to spend the night with my friend Jane who I hadn't seen in a while. Besides the good quality time spent with a lovely lady I discovered that she has an extra bed, complete with sheets, a comforter and a pillow in her NYU summer housing dorm. A miraculous find that I will continue to take advantage of...tonight, in fact.
We went to a favorite bar of ours and I was introduced to one of Janes new friends, Morgan. She's a California girl, vegetarian since birth, who wears necklaces with leaves on them. She is 10 on the fun scale.
A couple weeks ago, my friend Janie and I fell into a trap that some studly boys set out just for us. They had some pro-basketball player alter-ego's that worked like a charm. One of them, Shav (Marc) turned out to be a pretty swell guy. The other one, Gerald Henderson (Justin), turned out to be a male stripper. Luckily, the relationships formed were not ones that required 100% honesty or anything, so the joke-gone-to-far was laughed off over drinks.
Yesterday was a good one. A great day. I woke up early to meet the PR girls at the premier of the Wendy Williams show. One of our girls, got to ask a question on-air. Katie, Janie and I were front and center and got way too much air-time. I haven't seen the show yet, but rumor has it I got my fifteen minutes of fame. Wendy had Vanessa Williams on the show. She's beautiful. I would trade faces with her any day.
The whole experience made me realize that the dream I have is the dream I want to stick with. I want to have a set and a couch and a tag-line. I want to do promo's at the end of the show and I want to have guys with spiked hair and a v-neck touch up my lipgloss during commercial breaks. This summer is turning into one big validation for the Texan. Everything I thought that I wanted, really really is what I want.
The downside to yesterday was that I realized how little money I have in my wallet. I think it has something to do with the 24-hour diner Jane, Morgan and I went to. Anyways, I'm going to stretch the last 7 dollars in my wallet as far as I possibly can. I'll use this inconvenience as the start of my back to school diet...something I created with the sole purpose of tricking myself into saving money with a little skinny incentive.
Big News: One of my best friends in the world, Anna, is coming tomorrow! I can't wait to hug my little piece of Texas! She's going to put my ashy, pasty white legs to shame.
Today's Confession: I've paid my last couple bus rides over GW with change and I've shamefully, purposely handed the driver my fare with a little less than I owe knowing that he wouldn't count it. I really don't feel good about this.
We went to a favorite bar of ours and I was introduced to one of Janes new friends, Morgan. She's a California girl, vegetarian since birth, who wears necklaces with leaves on them. She is 10 on the fun scale.
A couple weeks ago, my friend Janie and I fell into a trap that some studly boys set out just for us. They had some pro-basketball player alter-ego's that worked like a charm. One of them, Shav (Marc) turned out to be a pretty swell guy. The other one, Gerald Henderson (Justin), turned out to be a male stripper. Luckily, the relationships formed were not ones that required 100% honesty or anything, so the joke-gone-to-far was laughed off over drinks.
Yesterday was a good one. A great day. I woke up early to meet the PR girls at the premier of the Wendy Williams show. One of our girls, got to ask a question on-air. Katie, Janie and I were front and center and got way too much air-time. I haven't seen the show yet, but rumor has it I got my fifteen minutes of fame. Wendy had Vanessa Williams on the show. She's beautiful. I would trade faces with her any day.
The whole experience made me realize that the dream I have is the dream I want to stick with. I want to have a set and a couch and a tag-line. I want to do promo's at the end of the show and I want to have guys with spiked hair and a v-neck touch up my lipgloss during commercial breaks. This summer is turning into one big validation for the Texan. Everything I thought that I wanted, really really is what I want.
The downside to yesterday was that I realized how little money I have in my wallet. I think it has something to do with the 24-hour diner Jane, Morgan and I went to. Anyways, I'm going to stretch the last 7 dollars in my wallet as far as I possibly can. I'll use this inconvenience as the start of my back to school diet...something I created with the sole purpose of tricking myself into saving money with a little skinny incentive.
Big News: One of my best friends in the world, Anna, is coming tomorrow! I can't wait to hug my little piece of Texas! She's going to put my ashy, pasty white legs to shame.
Today's Confession: I've paid my last couple bus rides over GW with change and I've shamefully, purposely handed the driver my fare with a little less than I owe knowing that he wouldn't count it. I really don't feel good about this.
Page Twenty-One: The A Train Observer
I decided to walk the 20 blocks to Columbus Circle before I started my commute home. It was a pretty day and with sunshine being such a rarity I felt like it would be criminal to waste it underground right away.
The seat next to me was filled with the most precious 3-year-old, turning 4 on her burfday, with fluffy pigtails. She plopped herself down and started a conversation about my pants and 'why are your jeans ripped?' and 'why are you readin?' and 'you have red lipstick.' We were instant friends. Her mom tried picking her up to take her to her daddy and she screamed her best 3-year-old scream. So, she remained being my seat companion and my entertainment.
We turned the pages of my new My Subway Ride book. She loved it and my true identity became clear to me yet again when I realized that I actually spent money on that. We chatted the rest of our journey away like we were long lost friends.
I still feel like I'm 3 years old.
This morning when I walked down the stairs at the 178th St. stop, my ears were immediately drawn to the boy/man/somewhere in between rapping along to whatever was playing on his ipod. Something about how the bank can't hold all his money, blah blah blah. He was wearing a khaki pin-stripe suit with a paisly tie. As you know, I'm quick to judge an outfit. He did OK, though.
He tapped on my shoulder and asked me how to get to Wall St.
Later, during our ride we chatted about work and internships and making it to the top. He told me the top is lonely, so lonely there's an echo.
I told him that if that's the case than I don't want to be there.
He said it's the best place on earth.
Agree to disagree, I guess.
If I had to pick the mindset of one of my two subjects, I would definately pick the one who still believes in Santa and takes naps.
Until next time, A Train. See you on my way back to Dirty Jersey.
The seat next to me was filled with the most precious 3-year-old, turning 4 on her burfday, with fluffy pigtails. She plopped herself down and started a conversation about my pants and 'why are your jeans ripped?' and 'why are you readin?' and 'you have red lipstick.' We were instant friends. Her mom tried picking her up to take her to her daddy and she screamed her best 3-year-old scream. So, she remained being my seat companion and my entertainment.
We turned the pages of my new My Subway Ride book. She loved it and my true identity became clear to me yet again when I realized that I actually spent money on that. We chatted the rest of our journey away like we were long lost friends.
I still feel like I'm 3 years old.
This morning when I walked down the stairs at the 178th St. stop, my ears were immediately drawn to the boy/man/somewhere in between rapping along to whatever was playing on his ipod. Something about how the bank can't hold all his money, blah blah blah. He was wearing a khaki pin-stripe suit with a paisly tie. As you know, I'm quick to judge an outfit. He did OK, though.
He tapped on my shoulder and asked me how to get to Wall St.
Later, during our ride we chatted about work and internships and making it to the top. He told me the top is lonely, so lonely there's an echo.
I told him that if that's the case than I don't want to be there.
He said it's the best place on earth.
Agree to disagree, I guess.
If I had to pick the mindset of one of my two subjects, I would definately pick the one who still believes in Santa and takes naps.
Until next time, A Train. See you on my way back to Dirty Jersey.
Page Twenty: Taxi Cab Confessions
A giant, gaping lull in the work day turns me into a computer hog for purposes 1000% unrelated to anything to do with selling air time to advertising agencgies. In reality though, this blog could mean more to my internship then we realize. At the end of the summer I'm supposed to present some kind of journal to my internship coordinator to ensure that I earned my wopping 1 hour of college credit. I'm sure they will be pleased to know that my time is being used wisely.
This morning I got dressed in an outfit that would make my mommy proud. A black and white Lily-esque dress, a white trench, flats and my hair pulled back just like she likes it. I'm in uncharted waters in an outfit like this. It's my alter-ego attire. I can't take this dress from day to night which is always a subconscious goal of mine when I get ready in the morning.
I bought myself the best NYC souvenir this morning at Borders. It's a big old picture book called My Subway Ride. I knew I had to have it the moment I laid my eyes on it's colorful cover, sitting next to all the other books intended for 5-year-olds. (Check out my appropriate AP Style!)
"The city is the body, the subway is the blood, running through tunnel veins.
It is sound and rhythm,
a pulse, the pulse,
a heartbeat,
a jazz riff,
a constant sea."
A little bit of a drama-mama interpretation of public transportation, but My Subway Ride will have a special shelf in my apartment next semester all the same.
I've always been real into calling shot-gun first. I get legitimately upset when I'm beat to it. I've discovered that the front seat of a cab is just as thrilling. The front seat puts a whole new spin on the whole taxi thing.
Last night, I gave our cab driver the grand inquisition, completely against his will. I got the low-down on the taxi system and the inside scoop on drivers and the unwritten laws that you just kinda know if you spend your days and nights driving a bright yellow car.
Cab drivers keep their cars at there homes. There's no cab barn like there's a bus barn for school districts in the suburbs. Sometimes two guys share a car and they come pick it up at the other guys house before their shift. There are two shifts, day and night. Sometimes they do both. They make their own hours and to my suprise there is no master cab driver who tells them when to start and stop. My interviewee has never given anyone a ride for free or discounted anyone, but he has also never overcharged anyone because he didn't like them or thought they were annoying. He has been puked on and he didn't like it. I asked him if there is some kind of cab drivers alliance or if they have a union or if they wave to each other like mid-life crisis men in corvettes do. He said no. He only waves if he sees a cab driver he knows, which typically is a once daily occurence.
I managed to find myself singing karaoke last night. Man in the Mirror, I believe. Go figure. It was a duet with my North Carolina friend and apparently it was painful. The mics got pulled from our hands toward the end of it because the Karaoke Diva in charge confused Tuesday's at Van Diemens for American Idol finals. She made sure to make an announcement after our disaster performance saying that only people who are serious need to sing, oh, and no screaming. Chill out lady. I thought we were fabulous!
Correction: We didn't sing Man in the Mirror. It was just confirmed. It was actually All For You, or You Are the Only One...? Something like that.
This morning I got dressed in an outfit that would make my mommy proud. A black and white Lily-esque dress, a white trench, flats and my hair pulled back just like she likes it. I'm in uncharted waters in an outfit like this. It's my alter-ego attire. I can't take this dress from day to night which is always a subconscious goal of mine when I get ready in the morning.
I bought myself the best NYC souvenir this morning at Borders. It's a big old picture book called My Subway Ride. I knew I had to have it the moment I laid my eyes on it's colorful cover, sitting next to all the other books intended for 5-year-olds. (Check out my appropriate AP Style!)
"The city is the body, the subway is the blood, running through tunnel veins.
It is sound and rhythm,
a pulse, the pulse,
a heartbeat,
a jazz riff,
a constant sea."
A little bit of a drama-mama interpretation of public transportation, but My Subway Ride will have a special shelf in my apartment next semester all the same.
I've always been real into calling shot-gun first. I get legitimately upset when I'm beat to it. I've discovered that the front seat of a cab is just as thrilling. The front seat puts a whole new spin on the whole taxi thing.
Last night, I gave our cab driver the grand inquisition, completely against his will. I got the low-down on the taxi system and the inside scoop on drivers and the unwritten laws that you just kinda know if you spend your days and nights driving a bright yellow car.
Cab drivers keep their cars at there homes. There's no cab barn like there's a bus barn for school districts in the suburbs. Sometimes two guys share a car and they come pick it up at the other guys house before their shift. There are two shifts, day and night. Sometimes they do both. They make their own hours and to my suprise there is no master cab driver who tells them when to start and stop. My interviewee has never given anyone a ride for free or discounted anyone, but he has also never overcharged anyone because he didn't like them or thought they were annoying. He has been puked on and he didn't like it. I asked him if there is some kind of cab drivers alliance or if they have a union or if they wave to each other like mid-life crisis men in corvettes do. He said no. He only waves if he sees a cab driver he knows, which typically is a once daily occurence.
I managed to find myself singing karaoke last night. Man in the Mirror, I believe. Go figure. It was a duet with my North Carolina friend and apparently it was painful. The mics got pulled from our hands toward the end of it because the Karaoke Diva in charge confused Tuesday's at Van Diemens for American Idol finals. She made sure to make an announcement after our disaster performance saying that only people who are serious need to sing, oh, and no screaming. Chill out lady. I thought we were fabulous!
Correction: We didn't sing Man in the Mirror. It was just confirmed. It was actually All For You, or You Are the Only One...? Something like that.
Page Nineteen: The Simple Life
I left the bright lights of the city and made my way to a town that really is unlike any other, in my opinion anyways. Boothbay Harbor Maine is where I've spent my summers since 7th grade. I drank for the first time there, learned to drive there, fell in love with a silly boy there, had my first job there...a lot of really good, important firsts. The best way to describe the quaint fairy-tale town is to compare it to a pop-up book. In my mind, no one really exists there, it's a setting from a story that comes to life from the months of June to August. It's that kind of place.
I surprised my Dad and his face was priceless. I spent good quality time with my parents complete with fireworks and cookouts. And the destruction of a poor bikers brand new Harley, but I'm going to leave that one a mystery.
The only downside to the weekend was that I had to look out of our dining room window into the backyard to see an empty yard where my beloved trampoline once stood. My mom decided to give it away and I'm still deciding if I will ever be able to forgive her. I probably wont. It was my pride and joy and I spent more time bouncing on it than I ever did inside the house. I've fallen off it more times than I can count and I became a master of creating the perfect rainbow with the hose underneath.
I realized that people have the potential to be happy anywhere they are. I realized this weekend that I miss so many different places and so many different people all at once. When I was in Texas I cried before I left, then I craved my old wooden house in Maine. Then, this weekend, I was itching to get back to New York, a place I've called my home for just over a month. I guess what I'm trying to say is that sometimes, the excitement of life literally overwhealms me.
I wish I could be everywhere at once and see everything at once and meet every person at once. Maybe I got sappy this weekend. Or maybe I learned something.
I finished reading The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan, which could have something to do with my sudden, intense appreciation for life and everything that defines it. Read it. It taught me things, made me laugh and even earned a couple spots in my quote journal...not an easy task.
Finally, July is here and that means visitors from the homeland. I cannot put into words how excited I am to see both (maybe even three) of my anticipated guests. I'm ready to show them what the life according to the Texan looks like now. I want to show them how well I know how to navigate my way around the concrete jungle and I want them to see how tough I can be. I want to take them to my favorite bar and I want to lay out on the Statue of Liberty lawn. I want to be a tourist and get sketched for 5 dollars in Times Square. That's a must.
It's time to get back to work.
Our current task: verbally bashing boys without brains who are intimidated by cute girls who know how to talk and think for themselves.
Current conflict: tell a boy whats up, or ignore them completely? I vote ignore them, it's more painful, cuts to the core of their ego and drives them up the wall. It's a winning solution 87% of the time.
Page Eighteen: Once Weekly Madness
Good morning from 2 Penn Plaza! I decided that I deserve a couple minutes to sneak in a blog after stuffing a box full of invoices into envelopes.
I woke up this morning on a tile floor in a student housing room at the New Yorker hotel. Never fear, I was in good hands. Needless to say last night was a good night in the city. Until I got stranded with only my bag of trailmix to comfort me. As luck, or utter misfortune that only seems to find me, would have it, a creepy 49-year-old man in a snazzy suit managed to surface. I explained my predicament to him at the hotel diner until my friends finally arrived and relieved me. After some pointless conversation and pretend intrest in anything he said, I left with some free food in my tummy. Worth it.
When I was getting ready for work I was excited to slip my feet into some new, teal flats that I hadn't worn yet. Naturally, the left shoe is a size bigger than the right. I solved the problem by shoving a napkin I found in the kitchen area of the ABC office into the toe. All better!
Haute PR had a meeting with Rich Baretta Private Training yesterday. He is a personal trainer to the stars and is looking for some representation. I fell in love with the dynamic of this place and would love to see it all grow. We met David Blaine while he was there working out. This is exciting of course, but I have to admit that I was more excited about the fact that John Mayer had been trained in the very room I was standing in. I threw my hands over my heart and asked if I could kiss the floor. Dramatic, I know, but I love him.
I had another promising e-mail come in from a man in Isreal who has created an olive oil based skin care line. He is looking for some rep in the U.S. and my plan is to repeatedly and passionately convince him that we're the firm for the job. Cross your fingers for me, again.
I'm looking forward to the simplicity of Boothbay Harbor, Maine this weekend. I'm also looking forward to seeing my daddy. I'm also looking forward to not having to go to work on Friday. I would hate to see a summer pass without spending some time in the odd, little town that helped to grow me up. This is my first summer that I haven't spent there so I can't wait to see it and all the colorful, grumpy people that I love.
The big city and all it's adventures will have to take a weekend break. It might need a break from me just as much as I need a break from it.
Today's Confession: Sometimes I nod my head in agreement at meetings even when I have never in my life heard of the person they're talking about or the publication they would like to see their brand name in, and I have a small bottle of left over vodka in purse underneath my umbrella.
This JUST in...I don't have work the next two days. Miracle?
I woke up this morning on a tile floor in a student housing room at the New Yorker hotel. Never fear, I was in good hands. Needless to say last night was a good night in the city. Until I got stranded with only my bag of trailmix to comfort me. As luck, or utter misfortune that only seems to find me, would have it, a creepy 49-year-old man in a snazzy suit managed to surface. I explained my predicament to him at the hotel diner until my friends finally arrived and relieved me. After some pointless conversation and pretend intrest in anything he said, I left with some free food in my tummy. Worth it.
When I was getting ready for work I was excited to slip my feet into some new, teal flats that I hadn't worn yet. Naturally, the left shoe is a size bigger than the right. I solved the problem by shoving a napkin I found in the kitchen area of the ABC office into the toe. All better!
Haute PR had a meeting with Rich Baretta Private Training yesterday. He is a personal trainer to the stars and is looking for some representation. I fell in love with the dynamic of this place and would love to see it all grow. We met David Blaine while he was there working out. This is exciting of course, but I have to admit that I was more excited about the fact that John Mayer had been trained in the very room I was standing in. I threw my hands over my heart and asked if I could kiss the floor. Dramatic, I know, but I love him.
I had another promising e-mail come in from a man in Isreal who has created an olive oil based skin care line. He is looking for some rep in the U.S. and my plan is to repeatedly and passionately convince him that we're the firm for the job. Cross your fingers for me, again.
I'm looking forward to the simplicity of Boothbay Harbor, Maine this weekend. I'm also looking forward to seeing my daddy. I'm also looking forward to not having to go to work on Friday. I would hate to see a summer pass without spending some time in the odd, little town that helped to grow me up. This is my first summer that I haven't spent there so I can't wait to see it and all the colorful, grumpy people that I love.
The big city and all it's adventures will have to take a weekend break. It might need a break from me just as much as I need a break from it.
Today's Confession: Sometimes I nod my head in agreement at meetings even when I have never in my life heard of the person they're talking about or the publication they would like to see their brand name in, and I have a small bottle of left over vodka in purse underneath my umbrella.
This JUST in...I don't have work the next two days. Miracle?
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