Whenever I start to feel like I’ve been having a completely lazy, unproductive summer, I just remind myself that I already accomplished a lifelong dream in May: I visited New York City. Ok, so that’s not really very productive of me, but it’s not average, either, which is sometimes what my life veers into… Anyway, the trip itself was perfect. I mean, seriously, I could not have asked for anything more out of it. I got to go with my three very best friends: Kimber, Claire, and Emily, we had mostly lovely weather, no fighting (except for some cold shouldering that lasted about three hours, but we don’t talk about that), tons of sightseeing and amazing food, a night of drinking and debauchery (…okay, more drinking than debauchery, but I love to sounding like the bad ass I so obviously am not) and TAXI RIDING! And honestly, most of the negative things I had ever heard about New York were proven false. Everywhere we went, people were lovely, not rude or snide or too in a hurry to notice any measly tourists. Waiters and waitresses offered to take group photos on our cameras for us. We struck up a lovely conversation with two men on the subway late at night. We didn’t have to ask for directions on the subway on Sunday because a very nice Hispanic man in a poncho walked up and helped us of his own accord. Even the ones who hit on us or cat-called did so in utterly charming ways that made me want to sit and talk with them instead of ignoring them like you do a regular creeper, like calling us “mamis” or identifying us by shirt color. I didn’t find the city to be any dirtier than downtown Dayton, and honestly, as far as the smell of the city, I’ll repeat what I told my mother: the worst-smelling part of the city, in my estimation, came from standing outside of the Fifth Avenue Abercrombie and Fitch and inhaling whatever rancid pubescent boy cologne they were brewing inside that managed to waft out onto the sidewalk, assaulting the nostrils of us unsuspecting tourists.
While in New York, we were lucky enough to become acquainted with two of Claire’s charming family members: Aunt Madeline and Jeremy, a cousin. We stayed with Madeline in Brooklyn, and she was the perfect hostess. She offered to parallel park the car when we arrived and had a bottle of wine waiting for us upstairs in her gorgeous apartment, where she had written in charcoal all over one brick wall, just little phrases; my favorite: “I liked it the way I found it”. It just rings true to my whole experience in the city. Seriously, we’re so lucky we got to stay with Madeline: she showed us how to ride the B train into Manhattan, didn’t mind when we came in at 6 A.M. obnoxiously drunk and woke her up, and sat and drank coffee with us on one of her precious free evenings, asking us about our lives back in Dayton and telling us about hers, which includes travels abroad at the age of 18 and dating various news anchors. Yeah so I’m pretty sure she’s rad.
And then there’s Jeremy, or Jeremiah, as he has come to be known. Jeremiah is awesome for many reasons: he has a hat full of bones in his tiny one room apartment, the skin of a puff adder that he skinned himself, outrageous polka-dotted flip-flops given to him in a small African village, and a vast knowledge of anything you ever wanted to know or were just wondering about, ever. In the space of about three days, he taught us about Manhattan schist, the building of the Brooklyn Bridge, the art form that is slingshotting, demon hunting in Mexico, and many more valuable lessons that I’m going to be selfish with and keep for myself. I will say that after a night spent drinking beer and whiskey with the guy, I came away with five new injuries, but a whole new appreciation for trilobites and ammonites. Everyone needs to drink with a biology professor at least once in their lives.
Honestly, every time I’ve tried to write about New York in the past two months, it’s come out as incoherent garbage that’s basically me spouting various quotes or anecdotes and not doing any actual writing, but I guess this’ll have to suffice. Don’t worry, I have a list of all the things that make me smile or laugh out loud when remembering them, as well as hundreds of pictures, but I will keep them to myself because I know how boring it is to sit and listen to someone blather on about their hilarious stories and oh my gosh remember that one night right after we got off the Brooklyn Bridge?! Oh my GOD, that was just too funny OH WAIT YOU WEREN’T THERE YOU TOTALLY DON’T CARE. This is probably bad enough as it is, so I guess you’ll just never have to sit through the telling of the cute boy with the Narnia tattoo….
