A quick story in honor of my fifth anniversary in New York City last week. Maybe this story is only amusing to those who know me, but when I accepted the job that took me to NYC, it was a few months after I had graduated from college, but we need to back up a little first. The weekend before I graduated, I got a late night call from my mom as I was leaving the library rehearsing for my capstone presentation. She had fallen carrying a few boxes and broke her nose. She had reconstructive surgeries that summer to get her nose back into shape, and one of those happened to be the weekend I’d need to move to NYC. Ever resourceful, our solution was to rent a Uhaul truck and enlist my best friend to drive it from Richmond to New York. In retrospect, I can’t believe that anyone agreed to this, but a few days later, Blair and I were on our way to my new abode on the Upper East Side. We survived generally unscathed, with the exception of side-swiping a Hampton Jitney and several wrong turns and blocked roads due to a visit from President Obama. Every time I ride through the Lincoln Tunnel, I think about that trip and laugh knowing the journey that brought me to my city.
I read a quote once from Leandra Medine, and I can’t find it today despite my best Googling, but in short, it said something to the effect that New York is the only city in the world that chooses who lives there, so those to make it longer than a few years should consider themselves the luckiest people in the world. I’m feeling especially to be a chosen one and celebrate half way to being a “real New Yorker.”