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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2120757
Rated: E · Novel · Travel · #2120757
Who wouldn't want to be a part of it?
*Disclaimer - I don't blame NYC for any of the following experiences.*
"Start spreadin' the news..."
"If I lived in New York, I would be _________. " Rich. Famous. Employed. Happy. Living a fuller life. Successful. One thing is for sure: There's something about New York. A certain magic or an image that promises you something big and beautiful. When I was about 10 years old my dream was to one day visit Paris, London and New York. Later in life I got to go shopping for a perfect hat in Paris. I also got to "Mind the Gap" in London for a long weekend. And finally, I got to be a part of it...
"I open the hotel room door and jump on a king size bed and bounce around it like a naughty 5 year old. The full carpet feels soft and caressing under my bare feet when I hurry to see the view. As I slide aside the white, silky curtains I'm stunned by the beautiful view of an early night in the New York city."
Not exactly.
After days of travelling I arrive to New York city late at night. The train station smells like ash tray and pee. To say I suffer from Jet Lag would be an understatement and my guts are screaming at me for food - any kind of food. It's pouring down. I know my hotel is "conveniently just around the corner" but I'm immediately lost anyway. I try and hail a cab like I've seen Carrie Bradshaw do a million times in "Sex and the city." After getting my toes nearly plowed by five different taxi drivers, I look up and see a huge sign with my hotels name on it. The check-in employee reminds me more of a soccer coach telling me to hurry up than a gentleman with a black tie waiting to make all my wishes come true. I take the elevator up to my room. Walking through the hallway my allergies kick in and I start sneezing like a maniac. I can hear at least four different TV channels cranked up in different rooms. Someone is having a loud domestic argument about where to have dinner tonight. I walk into my room and crash on the bed. Although I just got several restaurant recommendations from the arguing couple down the hall, I check Yelp for pizza delivery and dial. In about 45 minutes I wake up to pay the pizza boy and crash back on my faintly stinky bed without having one slice.
"We were madly in love, married for less than half a year when my husband bought me tickets to see my favorite band... in NYC! I could already smell the champagne, strawberries and the sweet smell of big city summer night..."
Sounds like a plan, Stan.
After 30 minutes of trying to stop a cab we decide to walk to our hotel. Against my usual preference of comfy clothes, I have high heels and one size too small skirt on. It's humid as hell. I can only dream of sightseeing because I have to stare down so I wouldn't trip on anything or step on too many puddles of unrecognizable goo. Our hotel is small and our room is even smaller. We decide to open the champagne and enjoy the view. Champagne tastes amazing and I'm oddly amused to realize that our view is a brick wall with an old and rusty fire escape. The concert hall is crowded and I can barely see the singer. We hang around the bar and I order way too many $8 plastic cups of "some sort of apple cider." After the concert we wobble to a restaurant and I get drunken mad because my husband is walking too fast.
"We start our morning with Mimosas in bed. I can hear the city waking up outside. People are cheerfully wishing each other good morning and the delicious smell of breakfast is slowly reaching our hotel room and our sleepy noses. We snuggle and order room service. It's a slow, magical morning in the greatest city of the world."
Mimosas are way overrated.
I feel like a truck of apple cider ran over me during the night. There's no such power in this world that would make me leave the small but surprisingly comfy bed in our tiny hotel room. My husband gets tired of waiting for me to get up so he stomps away to have breakfast. I stay in bed hating myself and all the apple cider brewers in the world until my stomach is about to turn upside down. I drop myself off the bed to the floor and pull a sweater and pants on top of my PJ's. As I slowly crawl downstairs to have breakfast my husband is coming back upstairs. I feel a bit better as I dream of the oversize, straight from the oven bagels waiting for me downstairs. I find a small hand written sign saying "BREAKFAST" with an arrow to right. I step into a small room where the TV is on and a handful of people are reading newspapers and having cereal. It takes me forever to find the bagels and even longer to cut one in half as these tiny wannabe bagels are harder than a rock. I eat one anyway. After a bowl of cereal I decide that's enough breakfast for now and I step outside to have a cigarette. Yes, yes - cigarettes are terrible and disgusting but I used to love them. Still do, actually. I would be way easier to get along with if I still smoked. Outside I hear lots of honking and I nearly get stomped by people rushing along the narrow street. Suddenly a man size of an Empire State building stops by me and starts talking. "Do you want to go to a hot balloon competition with me?" I must look like a deer in headlights as I just stare at him my cigarette hanging from my suddenly mute mouth. "I errraammmm... huh??" This is great. I'm afraid of two things. One: He thinks I have been dropped on my head WAY too many times when I was a baby. Two: He's going to murder me in broad daylight. "Are you cold? You look like you are cold. Here, have my jacket." I make a weird squealing sound and mumble about my husband waiting for me inside. I back away from the friendly - slash - dangerous man and point my cigarette towards him like a weapon. Note to self: Do not go outside alone.
"The best feeling is entering the New York city after you've been away for a long time. The skyscrapers in the distance are like a promise of a better tomorrow. People look absolutely stunning as they stroll down the never sleeping roads. The air is full of excitement and mystery. Here my life can change - in a blink of an eye."
Memory is a tricky thing. It makes you forget the shitty things and experiences.
I can see the breathtaking skyline when the bus slowly approaches the Big Apple. The skyscrapers are stunning and they make me feel small but strong. I look outside and smile at the city. "In a way... wouldn't it be the coolest thing ever to live here?" I nod. Definitely. The coolest.


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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2120757