Freedom

“Freedom is the opportunity to be what we never thought we’d be.”

I read this line on a commemorative stone leading up to the Statue of Liberty today. Suddenly I realized that nothing could more aptly describe my summer in the city, the lessons I’ve learned, and the person I’ve become as a result my experiences over the last two months.

It has taken this long to realize that this summer has been an exercise of my own freedom: I came here not knowing a soul, with no idea what my internship would entail and no roadmap for a successful trajectory in the streets of this huge melting pot or in my personal life. The beauty of this city—this whole life, really—is that no path is the same. We blaze our own trails! I feel that this summer has been my personal tutorial in doing just that.

For the first time in my life, I was placed in a situation where I must actively seek the things I desired: new friends, adventures, contacts for future endeavors, and of course cultural stimulation. There is no better place to do these things than in NYC, and at times no place more challenging. How in the world can you find a kindred spirit in a city obsessed with anonymity? How do you choose what to do when you get off work at 11PM and there are still millions of things to see and do?

Luckily for me, I have met so many people since my arrival in early June, and a couple of them I truly believe will remain a part of my life forever. The most valuable thing that I have learned, however, is to figure out what I want and just do it—regardless of who is with me and what other people think. I don’t consider myself a loner, but nowadays I have no qualms going to dinner or seeing a show or movie by myself. I’ve found that there’s something to be said for a balance between good company and doing things on my own.

Yesterday, for example, I had much of the day off because I had fulfilled my 30 hour work week, so I took the opportunity to do some wandering. I opted for my favorite anti-plan: choose a starting point and go from there. I started at St. John the Divine, the world’s largest Cathedral (hooolllly cow it was big), read my book for hours in the quad at Columbia University, and walked by Riverside Park. That night, for the first time, I went to hear an author that I like, and got her to sign my copy of her book. I realized that I could wear my most hipster t-shirt (it was still J.Crew), paint my nails seafoam green, check off three restaurants from my to-do list (yes, all three meals were dessert), and drink tap water from a wine glass in my little bedroom. I can literally be anyone I want to be—undefined, unwritten. It took coming to New York for me to realize this, but I hope that everyone has this epiphany at some point because it is one of the most liberating feelings in the world!

At the risk of entering the realm of the prematurely sentimental, I’ll add one more thought that’s been running through my mind over the past few days, and it is this: If you were to ask random people on the streets when one becomes a “real New Yorker,” you would obtain a variety of responses ranging from “being able to find your way home from any point in the five boroughs” to “the first time you got mugged.” Personally, I believe that moment is when you can acknowledge the city for what it is. Something indefinable and yet understood by all who have spent enough time here to see the ups and downs. You learn to roll with the punches, to make good of what is handed to you even if it rains on your day off or subway construction lands you in unknown territory. Sometimes it feels like the city is out to get you, and then you happen upon some little piece of paradise--like being at 42nd and 5th at just the right time to see the sun go down and fill the street with glowing, glittering luster; or when you descend the subway stairs just as the train arrives at your platform. Some days, it’s more obvious. You’re struggling with a 200lb rolling suitcase full of hardcover books in the pouring rain and just when you’re ready to push the bane of your existence into the tracks of an oncoming train, you look up and there, scrawled almost illegibly on the beam upholding the station, is simply the word “pray;” a gentle yet powerful reminder to slow down and be grateful—to find the beauty in all things. That's when you know that out of anywhere in the whole world, you're right where you're meant to be.

better make it count because you can't make it last!

With exactly a week remaining of my big city summer, it has become incumbent upon me to spend every instant in pursuit of new adventures. I had much of today free of work, so I set about this endeavor in my absolute favorite manner. I had only two goals for the day: to see Fraunces Tavern and St. John the Divine. I began with Fraunces Tavern, as it is at the bottom of the island, and planned to work my way up. Well, when I ventured down to the tavern where George Washington said farewell to his troops at the end of the Revolutionary War, I realized that I also wanted to see the former City Hall which was coincidentally the State and Nation’s capitol and where Washington was inaugurated! This led me to the Stock Exchange (I chuckled to myself as I stood behind the huge statue of GW and realized that he looks out on the very emblem of capitalism) which led me to Trinity Church, where Alexander Hamilton is buried. There was a pops band playing in the courtyard of the church, and I plopped down in the company of some fancy Wall Street suits to enjoy the music and read my book for a few minutes.

I went on my merry way after realizing that sitting still wasn’t getting me too far in the way of new sights! I meandered around the financial district a bit more, scoping out the Chrysler Building and NYC’s first skyscraper before heading to Union Square. I hadn’t planned on stopping there, but as I was walking I got a hankering for something sweet and knew just where to go. I have been following Big Gay Ice Cream on Twitter all summer and have heard rave reviews about this truck that travels around the city selling ice cream, but until today have never been in the right place at the right time. Well I found the truck and as I waited in the line that stretched halfway down the block, I watched as a young guy got down on one knee and proposed to his girlfriend with the ring and an ice cream cone! It was SUPER sweet (woah, no pun intended), and the guys that own the truck jumped up and down squealing and expressing their joy that now they too can get married in their home state.

The proposal was of course exciting, but it can’t hold a candle to “The Salty Pimp.” AKA—My ice cream cone. The cone was drizzled in caramel, sprinkled with sea salt, filled with vanilla, drizzled/sprinkled again, and dipped in chocolate. You haven’t LIVED until you have had a Salty Pimp! It put me in a good mood on my way to the office to get ready for tonight’s event.

An event it was—my generally eclectic crowd at the NYC Public Library was no less so tonight, though the speaker is a fashion editor for TIME Magazine and author of a book about Michelle Obama’s “power of style.” The attendees were primarily black females, with the exception of an Asian woman and one snickering, ”hmmphing” gentleman in the back. When the speaker was finished, he raised his hand to ask a question but instead informed the author that her topic of choice was “mere fluff” and that it was a waste of time and energy to continue to write about fashion. As you can imagine, the already rough crowd became incited; they argued about the importance of her topic from every angle from women’s suffrage to slavery. When an Asian woman with barely discernable English spoke up to criticize Michelle Obama for not wearing her hair naturally, the remaining audience became positively incensed. I was incredibly uncomfortable—I felt bad for the speaker as well as for her husband and young daughter who had not yet heard her speak since the book was recently released—and was counting the seconds until the host took control and ended the firing session.

Until just now, I had forgotten that last night’s event held a bit of an awkward moment as well. I was at the Princeton Club—it is just as hoity-toity as it sounds. It was a political event, and everyone was dressed to the nines. As members of the club toasted champagne and partook of their filet mignon, the speaker joked that he might need to take his jacket as a result of the New York heat. At that moment, all knives stopped cutting. No glasses clinked. Not a word was spoken until, just audibly, an old man at the table next to me grouched “and what? Be half naked?” The speaker stumbled over his words and muttered something about a joke and a tough crowd before straightening his tie and shoving his hands into his pockets. The rest of the evening went smoothly if not uneventfully, for which I was eternally grateful.

Monday night’s event was far more enjoyable even though it was equally fancy. It was a glamorous rooftop gala honoring two Jewish authors. The curator befriended me immediately upon arrival, and throughout the entire program slipped me handwritten notes under the table. By the time I realized that these notes were composed in Hebrew, it was too late to tell her I didn’t understand/wasn’t Jewish. We were already besties. She hugged me when I left, and I added her to the list of Jewish people who for some reason think I am one of them. On this list she joined the ranks of the man who held an hour long conversation with me about how much easier it is to be Jewish in Sweden (they follow all of the eating rules) and a woman I met on the train who wanted to bond over the difficulty of finding “a good Jewish boy.” I can’t be sure, but I don’t think it’s the blond hair/blue eyes combo that makes them think I’m one of them. Whatever it is, I hope it sticks around. This list is definitely one of my favorites.

In the vein of soaking up every minute, I am about to head out to see Harry Potter. I know I’m a terrible fan, that it’s almost 11, that I could conceivably watch HP when I get home—but it’s in IMAX! And I really want to see it. I never made it to St. John the Divine today, but hey, that's what tomorrow's for!So I will be posting soon about all of the rest of the things I can cram into the last few days, making them count!

the devil called. he wants his weather back.

So. Dang. Hot. I would venture to say the defining feature of this weekend—beyond the best friends visit, the Harlem Book festival, and many things crossed off the list—is the heatapocalypse that is suffocating the city right now. It’s all anyone can talk about, because it’s all anyone can think about. It is hotter here than it is in Baton Rouge or Mobile, and more humid. The air is static between the buildings and hangs like a heavy coat, and I am currently (and seriously) considering going to sleep on the air conditioned subway like a hobo.

I met Cam and Morgs at the airport late Thursday night. We ran past the security at my building so that they could sneak in without having to pay for a room. We couldn’t believe that it worked! We did the same thing the entire weekend, sneaking in and out and pretending to put our keys in the mailbox as is building protocol. It was an adrenaline rush every time. The air mattress they brought covered the extent of my floor space, but it worked out perfectly. We woke up after about three hours to head to the Goo Goo Dolls concert at Good Morning America. By 5:30AM, we had walked across Central Park to get to the stage, and were soaked through and through with sweat. 5:30AM!!! We were glad to be up early to get to pack the day with fun New York activities, and we headed to Chinatown after the concert.

In Chinatown we visited several of the sketchiest operations in existence, made some illicit purchases, and ate at an infamous side street tea room. Perhaps the best part of our day were the hours we spent perusing 4 floors of Tiffany & Co, each of us choosing our favorite jewels and dreaming in Tiffany Blue. We enjoyed a little pick me up in the form of Starbucks at the Trump Tower Plaza and imagined a return trip in the years ahead, thinking of all the turns our lives will soon be taking. Afterward, we walked down the street to a place called Milk Bar, which is famous for their “life changing cakeballs.” Life changing they were—like heaven to our taste buds. SO YUMMY! We went back today so that the girls could take some home to their friends (and get one more for ourselves, of course.)

After a good nap and shower, we went out to eat and walked along the Hudson River. We caught it just as the sun was setting and had a lovely time singing and dancing under the strings of lights on the pier. We headed to the airport to pick Clayton up, but when we got off of the train at Harlem to catch the airport shuttle, we were perturbed to see it pulling away. We ran 3 blocks (in Harlem, at night), but to no avail. The bus just kept on rolling. So we got ourselves some Michelob Ultras and hopped back on that subway headed home. We decided that was the epitome of youth—drinking beer out of paper bags on the subway in New York City. In hindsight that actually sounds more like alcoholism.

Saturday saw my return to Harlem in the form of an intern task. I had to work at the Harlem Book Festival all day. I was dreading it with all I was worth, but even though I was very much out of my element it actually turned out pretty neat. The street was lined with tents of authors, publishers, and booksellers; some famous, some not. After my work duties were over, I checked something off my list that I didn’t even know was on there—SOUL FOOD IN HARLEM. Yep, I walked over to the food festival on the cross street and had the best fried chicken and grape juice of my whole life. I don’t know what they put in that food, but it was SO GOOD!

When I finally got home, Cameron and Morgan came back from their shopping day in SoHo and we got dressed to meet up with Clayton and go to dinner. Because of subway construction, we ended up wandering across the Brooklyn Bridge. Possibly one of the funniest moments of the night was when we hopped in a cab headed back for Manhattan, Cameron in the front seat giving the driver instructions on how to get back across the bridge and to our restaurant of choice. We went to the Bridge Café, which turned out to be the perfect choice. There were no tourists (except for us…) and the food and ambiance was kind of glamorous! At that moment and in our subsequent walk along the cobblestone street, I realized there was no place I would rather be and with no other company. We laughed, sang and danced (to poor Clayton’s amusement) as we strolled down the street arm in arm. We took the Staten Island ferry—one of my favorite things to do, as you can probably tell by now—and basked in the glow of the city lights, the water breeze and perfect camaraderie.

This morning we rose from our restless slumber to hit a few last places before the girls had to catch their plane. At the Museum of Modern Art, I had one of those strange, life assessment moments alone: I found myself standing in a window box on the 5th floor in the exact place I stood nearly 10 years ago on my first visit to the city. I remember my exact thoughts at that moment, a dream that I would one day come to New York to stay. I had fallen in love with the city over the course of a short visit. Today—for the first time—I realized that am living my dream. What an incredible feeling! I took in the surrounding sky scrapers and the streets below and wondered where in the world I will be ten years from now, and what dream I will be living at that point.

The girls just left for the airport after a morning at the MoMA and a walk through the Plaza. We got matching coffee cups to commemorate the trip (lame?), and laughed as we pictured ourselves cheers-ing on a veranda in a couple of years remembering our weekend in the city. As they ran past the security guard for the last time, I realized how sad I am for them to leave and that I cannot wait to be back in the South with my best friends!

old & new

I woke up at 5AM yesterday, and upon realizing that I had no direction for my day decided to catch the next bus to Boston. Before I knew it, I was sitting at the top of a double-decker, sipping a glass of orange juice as the New England panorama raced by. Elizabeth Fair, one of my dearest old friends was waiting for me at the station when I arrived a few hours later. Together the two of us and her roommate Caroline made our way into the city. Because they attend Boston College, they were the best tour guides anyone could ask for. We traveled the brick path that leads through the city, along the way visiting sites like the North Church and the graveyard where Mother Goose and Paul Revere are buried. We had cannoli at the famous Mike’s Pastry Shop and paid a visit to Fenway Stadium, home of the Red Sox. Experiencing these iconic places was an incredible feeling. We were all giddy as we walked from street to street, passing beautiful architecture and famously historic sites all the while. The atmosphere was altogether different from NYC: slower, somehow, and with an air of antiquity as if the ghosts of Paul Revere and George Washington are just out of reach. The best part of the day was sitting on a dock in the Boston Harbor, feet dangling in the water as the sun slipped behind the skyline. We took in the city bathed in gold as hundreds of sailboats made their ways back to the shore.

I made it back to NYC around 3 this morning with a new city added to my list of favorites. My day in Boston will always be counted among fondest memories. This week has held many of my top moments of the summer. Earlier in the week I had an event with Thomas Lennon and Ben Garant, television and movie actors, and the writers of many movies including Night at the Museum and Balls of Fury. It was my first extended encounter with movie stars, and I got to know them very well over the course of the evening.

I met some less famous authors the following night at the KGB Bar. The name probably should have warned me, but I was still taken by surprise when I walked into a small red bar with communist flags and Russian Socialist propaganda covering the walls. The hammer and sickle were prominently displayed on every surface, including glasses, bar stools—you name it. I couldn’t make this up. I was genuinely disturbed for a greater portion of the event, even though the books were NYT Bestsellers and the authors were very genial. As it turns out, the bar is merely a well preserved former-socialist-headquarters-turned-literary-hotspot. That’s a mouthful. Regardless, it was definitely an interesting (?) experience that I likely would never have had otherwise (for better or worse…).

But the best part of my week—and I know I’ve already mentioned this—was being able to come home after work and hang out with Courtney. There is nothing like sitting on the rooftop of your apartment looking out on the glowing Empire State Building and the city lights with your best friend right beside you and a glass of wine in hand. It’s the simple things, right? We swapped summer stories and caught up on weeks past, and finally bid adieu before the sun could rise again and see her on her way back to Mobtown.

All in all, it has been an absolutely glorious week. As I look back on it now, I’m excited for what this coming week will bring, knowing that my days in the city are dwindling and anticipating the arrival of a few more best friends in the next few days.

groovin'

It has been a crazy/awesome few days since the last time I wrote. So many things have happened in such a short time! After we took the ferryboat on Friday night, we realized all of a sudden the extensiveness of our to-do list and the short amount of time we have left. The same thing happened in London last summer—all of a sudden you realize that the city still holds so many, many adventures and you want to cram as much in that short time as possible!

We dedicated Saturday to exploring different neighborhoods—shopping at eclectic markets in Greenwhich Village, Chelsea, and Williamsburg—and got tickets to see Mary Poppins that night. It wasn’t our first choice for a show that night but it turned out to be so much fun recalling the songs we listened to and loved as children. The following day was the perfect day to hit the beach, and I took full advantage of the beautiful weather. I took the train to Long Beach and joined hundreds of New Yorkers in the mass exodus from the city. A fortuitous accident landed me in between two jetties that marked the surfing section, and some kind surfer boys offered to teach me their skills! It took a couple of tries, but once I got the hang of it (no pun intended) it was such a rush! Maybe next summer I’ll wander to California and make surfing a full time occupation. Kidding, dad. Nisreen and I polished off the day with a trip to Serendipity—the hour wait was made well worth it by the Broadway Sundae—a must for anyone who visits the city.

Work wise, things couldn't be going better. I feel as if I have found my groove both in the city and in the industry. My event Monday was at the New York Times; the speaker was Soledad O’Brian, a reporter for CNN. I knew I wouldn’t regret watching all that Hurricane Katrina Coverage back in the day—I was so glad to recognize her from her work! Before the event, we bonded over our weird names (she told me of a network that only hires people with obscure names like ours), Catholic churches in the city, and a mutual affinity for New Orleans. She was one of the most positive, inspiring, genuinely funny people I have ever met and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of her company.

For a while today, I was the only person in the office. I was definitely on a power trip as I unlocked the doors with the keys bestowed upon me last week. Maybe it was the feeling of independence that came with opening the office or maybe it was the particularly potent Starbucks from my walk over, but something had me thinking. As I settled down to get to work for the day, I began to mull over the questions that have been forming in my mind: could I possibly see myself in this city after all? Where would I even start? I have become more and more enamored of the city with each passing day, and am beginning to see my own place within.

Tonight I had the absolute best delight in the whole world—there is nothing so wonderful as reuniting with a best friend! Courtney is in the city for the week, so tonight we took the ferry to see the most spectacular view of the city. We drank in the city lights and were almost too engrossed in catching up to hear voices behind us and the words “War Eagle” and “Roll Tide.” If I wasn't feeling at home all ready, I sure was when--to our great amusement--we discovered that our companions too were from the great city of Mobile, Alabama! We exchanged New York stories and places to go and were all so excited to meet each other in the big city. Turns out the world isn’t quite as big as it seems!

Courtney and me with our new friends at the Staten Island station

now playing

"in this moment all i know is the skyline through the window; the moon above and the streets below" -parachute

What a beautiful New York night! You'd never know that it's raining cats and dogs, as usual when we have a significant amount of free time. Tonight we decided not to let the rain get in the way of our plans even though they involved a boat and open air. We took the subway down to the Staten Island Ferry and rode the ferry boat around the Statue of Liberty and back to Manhattan.The skyline and the statue were absolutely breathtaking--it is one thing to see them in pictures and postcards; quite another to be right underneath them.

Lessons Learned

It’s no secret that I like do to things my way or not at all. Call it spoiled; call it stubborn—it is what it is. As it turns out, New York City and I have that in common. The city often has different plans for my day than I do, and—it being the bigger beast in the equation—often prevails over my own ideas. Take last Wednesday for example. Up before the sun, I was packed and on my way to Tucson. I was waiting to board my first connecting flight to Charlotte when over the intercom came an announcement that there were hundreds of turtles blocking the runway at JFK. I was so excited for KD National Convention and Tucson with my best friends and fellow council members, but what can you do besides laugh at a flight delay because of turtles crossing the runway? Sounds like a joke, right?

I eventually made it to Tucson at about midnight Arizona time, which coincidentally was 3AM New York time. I was exhausted. The next few days all began at 8, but I was awake hours before because of the time difference. It gave me the opportunity to go run around the desert, which was absolutely gorgeous. I had no idea that I would love Arizona so much! Our resort was nestled between mountains with cacti literally every two feet or so, and wildlife like mule deer and desert rabbits ran rampant. The convention was amazing. We were treated like queens with banquets and plush resort rooms, but the best part was the sisterhood! So many KDs young and old in one place! Our chapter had the most representatives there out of any other school, and we were so happy to be reunited. KDs from other chapters kept coming up to us to ask our secrets about recruitment, socials, and different success tactics, but on awards night we began to get discouraged. We sank lower and lower into our chairs with each honorable mention, until finally the time came for the biggest award. We had to pick our jaws up off the floor when they called EPSILON!!! All of our alums surrounded us and we became the obnoxious LSU girls singing our chants.

We were devastated to part at the week’s end, but it makes the nearing approach of school and our senior year infinitely sweeter. I headed back to New York just in time for a good nap before the 4th of July festivities. We marveled at the emptiness of the city (sidenote: this is the best time to visit NYC!) and watched the Macy’s fireworks from our rooftop.

I had the morning off yesterday, and as it was my first free morning of the summer, I decided that I would go to Regis and Kelly! I’ve wanted to go all summer but haven’t yet had the chance. I read that the first 30-45 people in the standby line get seats in the studio audience, so I woke at 5 and was downtown by 6. I was fourth in line, so when some guy joined the line in front of me at 7:30, I didn’t bat an eye. At 9AM, they began to let us in. Guess what number they got to? If you guessed four, you are correct. Our consolation for waiting and not getting in was a ticket to meet Jennifer Anniston and watch her on the show the following morning—a dream come true for those that did not have to be at work by 9.

Again, I practiced my newly acquired rolling with the punches skills. I spent the morning wandering around the Met, and in the afternoon I ventured into the Upper West Side and Riverside Park. I watched a sailboat race on the river (I love sailboats) and finally made my way home. My event last night turned out to be the coolest one yet. It was at the Harvard Club and featured an author named Andrew Breitbart. For those of you who are unfamiliar with him, Andrew is a conservative activist involved in the tea party movement and instrumental in national GOP politics. I was in the company of New York’s finest (and wealthiest) young conservatives. Among the distinguished guests of honor was none other than Rudy Giuliani! I think I was more excited to meet him than I was Daniel Radcliffe. Probably one of the coolest moments of the summer was sitting next to Giuliani and Breitbart while they signed books; they would turn to me with snide comments or sarcastic espressions after listening to a particularly enthusiastic youngster/devoted fan. I kept my cool even though I was just as excited as the others about meeting these two.

On my way home late that night, I stopped at 5 Guys to pick up something to eat. To my chagrin, the guys that work there recognized me and called me Alabama. I don’t know what that says about me—that the only people in this city who remember me are the employees of a burger joint on the busiest street in America—but I do believe that’s my cue to switch to salads (yeah right).

Today’s event was about Nica Rothschild, the famous jazz baroness of the 50s and 60s. The speaker was really interesting and got me thinking about all of the music NYC has to offer. After work, I walked down Broadway and picked up student tickets for Jersey Boys. It’s a musical I’ve wanted to see for years now, and it did not disappoint. Afterward, we met the cast as well as some other people hanging around waiting to see them. We made friends! We ended up standing on a street corner in Times Square talking to our new friends until the early morning. All the while, the busiest block in the whole country buzzed and changed around us. The lights never dimmed, but eventually Python Man, comedy show promoters, and the schizophrenic Russian died down and returned to their respective caves. When we finally walked home with our signed playbills, we deemed tonight one of the best so far.