I sit in solitude in my hotel room and all is quiet.....well, sorta. Inside the only sound is of my keyboard-addicted fingers incessantly pounding the keys on a mission. Outside, the bustling frenetic NYC sings an unending chorus of car horns, sirens, rumbling subways, music.....indescribable and defining humming of the big city that makes a white noise all in and of itself. I am intrigued. Sold. Laser-focused. Slightly addicted and obsessed with her. This vast unknown territory that I cannot wait to dive in and immerse myself in. I look forward to the culture shock. Shock me baby with your multi-dimensionalism. Show me what you are made of!
My pillow beckons, yet the ever-present and unstoppable (even on a Monday &/or Tuesday night!) and consuming nightlife yearns for my company, whispering sweet nothings injected with promises of potential love and adventure. But I resist both and I take this night in to myself, resisting temptation to join the surprisingly poppin' scene outside and the early slumber inside, to memorialize my first [now old news] night of reconnaissance in the Big Apple.
Alright. Enough with that poeticism because I know Kelly will comment on how I need to stop trying so hard. Pfffft. I am feeling so creative and inspired already.........and I just cannot hide it! Before I start another stanza, let me just preface my current and future blogging by stating that I loathe contractions. Not the birthing process, but the lazy part of English grammar that allows for shortening of two words into one. For example, don't, couldn't, I'm.............I mean, how much shorter can 'I am' possibly get?! SO LAZY! End rant. For that is not what this pots is about. Just wanted to proclaim that I will not be using contractions if I can help it. However, because they are ingrained in my speech and writing of English, I might slip and become a hypocrite. But I won't, I shouldn't, I couldn't, and I don't want to! =P
More importantly and somewhat back-segueing to my first two stanzas, I must not only commend myself for surviving my first night in NYC here, but I must chastise myself for it. What did I survive you ask? Oh, just a 3-hour subway journey via 4 trains from JFK. WHY on earth would I put myself through that you ask?! "Adventure". Getting my hands in and getting my New Yorker on. Was it wise to ride the train solo, lugging 50 lbs. of luggage + my proprietary work-laptop in tow through the undergrounds of NYC? That would be a no. But I did it, I have the callouses/broken skin on my hand from lugging that damn rolling suitcase to prove it, and I lived to tell the highlights. Thank you Jesus. What. An. Experience. My life has been one huge journey, with many unbelievable twists and chapters of colorful experiences. Someday, someday I will write this book using a nom de plume, so that all can read about said experiences. Thank you Lord for lighting my path and guiding me through it all, because it has been a riveting and ongoing saga, getting better with each chapter. I digress x 3...........
So per the reco of our new bi-coastal friend Laura (her name has been changed for privacy. Wait, did we already call her name out? Ruh roh.), instead of taking a taxi and/or reserving a car (which I WILL be doing en route home), from JFK at 1a.m. I took the AirTrain > E > 6 going the wrong direction, discovered this after one stop and got off the next stop > 6 other direction (my sense of direction is completely out of whack for the time being until I get my NYC bearings) > N > taxi to take me .5 mi to hotel because it was 3:50a.m. and I was pooped! Taking the subway as a female, any subway, at that time of night, ALONE, is not recommended in fact strongly discouraged in fact very frowned upon by anyone and for anyone of either sex and at any age. Bad, bad, bad mistake. And I knew it at the time, but was deliriously excited to try out the subway and find my way into SoHo all by my little self. Would it have been a better idea at 3:50p.m.? Yep. Totally fine. :::slaps forehead:::
Needless to say, God was definitely surrounding me with his bright white light and warding off the evils that lurk in the shadows during the 'witching hours'. Oh brother I sound like my mother. But let us be real here for a sec. Evil lurks everywhere, at any time of day, in any city. But it is one thing to avoid it, and another to lay out the welcome mat. Stupid, stupid girl I was that night. Naive? Yes. Brave? No. I must sheepishly admit that I was definitely naive in thinking that my amazonian-height and crazy look in my eyes would ward off the other crazies (sometimes I will even talk to myself and flail my limbs thinking this deters the crazies as well). But I survived the NYC subway in the dead of night by myself, I survived the rats, the urine stench, the bumbling wanderers, the loss of direction, the breaking of my luggage because I carried it by the pull-out handle downstairs to the subway when I could have easily taken the elevator, and thank God I am here to talk about it today. Within the first four hours l learned a few serious lessons about my future home. And that is how I typically learn lessons. The hard way. Twice-over. But at the end of the day, for all of this 'adventure', I like to believe I am stronger. And that is part of what I want to get out of NYC: strength/determination/assertiveness/thicker skin. And soooooooo much more. ;-)
No comments:
Post a Comment