50 (More) Things You Learn Your First 6 Months In New York City

Just moments after taking this picture I lost my metrocard...

Oh hey again.

It’s me.

The clueless curly-headed buffoon jolly-romping around New York City and getting on all the wrong trains (still).

Because I only operate on a shit-show level of 57 and obviously need more things to fill my schedule right now, I thought I’d go back to my first posting back in July and see what I’ve learned now that I’m officially a New Yorker (just kidding Mom don’t disown me it was a JOKE).

Here are a few (more) things I’ve learned after roughly six months in The Big Apple…

1. All the friends you thought you’d see and hang out with every day like an episode of Broad City…you still haven’t hung out with. Because we live in NYC. And they, like you, have approximately a 20-minute window of time to offer on any given day, or month, maybe year for spontaneous social gatherings.

2. Renting an apartment in New York is exactly like Broad City told you it was though. Down to the creepy-ass apartment in a basement crawling with roaches that looked amazing in the photographs, quirky character realtors, and a sinking reality that you live in the most expensive city in the world, maybe even the universe.

Me: I need to make how much to live here?

Realtor: 100K

Me: *starts laughing*

Realtor: What’s so funny?

Me: Oh, for a second there I thought you said $100,000-

Realtor: That’s correct

Me: If you’ll excuse me I’m just gonna- (approaches fire escape and attempts to leap off of it)

3. But when you do find a place in your price range (yes, it’s possible) you are expected to promptly hand over every tax return you never knew you had, letters from employers explaining how great of a person you are, and might as well be asked to do a backflip in the kitchen right then and there to get the apartment. Oh, and did we mention how much money you’re expected to hand over on the spot? Yeah, this is going to run you and your roommates (because you need those) roughly $8,000. Mmmmm feels so gooooood.

4. Just because Google Maps tells you that your destination is less than 3 miles away it doesn’t mean you’re actually going to get there quickly. Actually, I can pretty much guarantee that you won’t. The MTA has made damn sure of that.

5. While we’re on the MTA, it’s pretty much a known fact that it might take you five different subway lines to get to your destination because the one that would be the most convenient isn’t running today. Or it just isn’t running for your stop. Therefore, you should be fully prepared to take several different subways, walk to a bus station, get stranded in some random neighborhood, and just say fuck it and get a Lyft which is just included in your budget now and you’d be out of your mind to attempt any other means of transportation short of walking your ass all the way to the Upper West Side.

6. You have actually walked your ass up to the Upper West Side and it actually made your ass feel quite fancy.

7. Not every part of New York is like it’s portrayed in the movies. Sure, you get a thrill everytime you see the Empire State Building light up all cool-like. And maybe you think nearly getting hit by a taxicab is kind of nostalgic and Hollywood. But nothing can prepare you for the smell of trash day in NYC. Which pretty much every day in NYC. And no amount of romantic comedy watching can take away from the fact that there are gigantic, smelly trash-castles lining the streets of New York making you seriously question your life decisions and hold your nose all the way through Midtown.

Mmmmmmmmmmm, smells so yummy!

8. Just because you’re from Colorado doesn’t mean you understand Winter. It turns out you know very little about Winter and will be smacked so hard into reality by “The Bomb Cyclone” that you start crying in the middle of the street because you thought this was your heavy jacket.

9. After the shock of humidity and windchill, you’re going to spend an hour and a half in a hot shower and immediately order an Arctic-level jacket, long underwear, and heated socks from Amazon using your Christmas money.

10.  Real New Yorkers are going to take pride in making fun of said Arctic-level jacket and laugh at you constantly because it truly resembles a sleeping bag but you don’t give a fuck because at least you’re warm now. Until the weather shifts radically to the other end and you’re caught wearing Big Blue and are now sweating through it, leaving tiny drips of sweat behind you as you walk.

Gage (age 2) modeling "Big Blue" before a trip to the corner store for stickers.

11. A “Do Not Walk” sign is a challenge to a New Yorker. And you don’t generally think of yourself as a risk-taker, but you sometimes find yourself following a brave soul out into the middle of a street because hey, you’ve got somewhere to be, right?

12. Food delivery services like Blue Apron are great for single people living in New York who don’t want to spend $1,000 on eating out.

13. Just kidding, you can’t do Blue Apron because some asshat on your block has figured out when you get yours delivered and is stealing them off your front porch while you’re at work. ENJOY THE FILET MIGNON ASSHOLEEEEEEE.

14. New Yorkers aren’t lying when they say it’s all about who you know. It seriously is. And even if you’re an introvert and don’t like talking to other humans, there’s this great thing I’ve discovered called Facebook Groups that allow you to network with complete strangers in New York who are somehow totally down to hook you up with all kinds of cool shit like jobs, gigs, apartments, and more! I’m not exaggerating on this one. Pretty much every cool thing I’ve found in New York (and most of my jobs I now have) came through hitting somebody up on a Facebook Group. You’re welcome.

15. Speaking of who you know, did you know that it’s entirely possible to get a book deal from meeting some random guy at an improv show who happens to know a publisher? I mean at least that’s how it happened for me. Which is pretty cool considering my method of cold-emailing agents and hating myself wasn’t really working out too well for me.

16. It’s entirely possible to end up living out the New York 20 roommates stereotype for a few months. And joke to all your friends that you live in a commune. Which you kind of do, let’s be honest. But this co-living lifestyle allows you to slowly start writing stories about the weirdos you live with which you plan on keeping to yourself until you move out in a month or so. And then there’s really no holding you back. You’ve got an hour-length comedy special about the weird shit that went down in that commune.

17. Sometimes you’re going to feel alarmed when a stranger smiles at you. Yeah, really alarmed. That shit’s weird. Where are we? In the twilight zone? Don’t you see I have my fuck-off earphones and resting bitch face on?

18. Homesickness will come and go at random times. In one moment you’re crying by yourself on a subway because you saw someone refuse to give up their seat to an old lady and the next you’re feeling like Jack in that scene from Titanic where he’s all like “I’M THE KING OF THE WORLD.” These two emotions will probably occur on the same day, if not simultaneously.

19. You’re going to try to get smart and use a different airport every time you fly home just to research which is the easiest one to fly in and out of. Which the answer is none of them. Especially since you don’t have a car anymore and will convince yourself that the public transportation to LaGuardia can’t be that bad.

20. You’re never going to get anywhere in under an hour. I don’t care who you are or where you think you’re going. It’s not going to happen for you.

21. Dating in New York is a joke.

22. Dating in New York is a joke.

23. Dating in New York is a joke.

24. It’s a joke because New York has this beautiful shiny glow to it that convinces everyone that there’s always something, or someone, better out there so no need to go past a first date really because who gives a fuuuuuuck.

25. For this reason you will spend a lot of time explaining to the 4-year-old you nanny why you don’t have a husband or children for him to go on playdates with.

26. It’s entirely possible to get away with not paying for a gym membership. All you have to do is sign up for a “free day” at every gym in every borough. You don’t even have to use a fake name. There are that many different kinds of gyms to try.

27. You eventually might want to get real and get a gym membership because all this 99¢ pizza has really gone directly to your hips and that’s just not okay.

28. You’re going to get sick virtually all the time. But at least you can try to convince yourself that you’re building up your immunity for the day when the next deadly monkey germ hits the East Coast.

29. Swallowing your sketchy bag of vitamins on the subway is a great way to get people not to sit next to you, but at least you know you’re getting your daily dose of Vitamin I Don’t Give a Fuck.

30. When you look back on your first days in New York, you laugh because you were SOOOO worried about getting a job. And then you have to stop laughing because you now have five jobs. All of which require a different part of your brain, separate skills, and will create quite the interesting story on your tax forms next year.

31. You were worried about running out of money and having to head home like a failure. And now you’re like “how many minutes do I have to cram this sandwich in my face in between my barista gig and my nanny gig?” and “can I make it to Queens for this comedy show after teaching my writing class?” and “should I take this $20 freelance gig and write a 400-word piece about how to winterize your pipes?”

32. The answer to these questions are “approximately five,” “yes,” and “hell yes.”

33. You always used to think about the word “hustle” in terms of drugs, as in, someone smuggling them across a border. Now when you think about the word, it’s just a gigantic picture of your tired-ass face plastered in a dictionary. Your parents might refer to you as “deranged,” but they’re also real impressed that you found a way to live rent-free in New York City for about six months (you managed the commune, like an adult RA, that’s how).

34. Time works differently in New York. Even though you want things to happen magically and overnight like they do in the movies, it doesn’t work that way. But patience is key. And your hard work will pay off down the line if you wait for it. I think this is why some people come here in the first place; they want an immediate change from the lives they’re living. They want that New York magic. And believe me, this place is fucking magical. But sometimes you have to wait a little longer for some stars (shit, half a star) to align. And when that happens there is no better feeling in the damn world.

35. If you don’t believe me, ask the guy that was sitting on the park bench near Prospect Park when I got the email that I was going to be published. I don’t know his name or where he lives or really anything about him. But he saw something amazing happen that day. And a lot of screaming intermixed with tears and more screaming followed by more tears.

36. You’re going to show up more on people’s radars now that you’ve moved to New York in pursuit of your dreams. Ex-boyfriends, old colleagues, some random person you met on a plane once. They’re all going to start dropping you a line and caring about your Snapchats all of a sudden. You’re fine with that. Except for the ex’s. You’d rather they shut the hell up and deal with the fact that you’re awesome (which you always were by the way).

37. Despite people finally realizing how cool you are, people are still going to flake out on you last minute. Because in New York, if I’m asking you to come to my comedy show, you’re definitely going to say you’re coming. But at the same time you can easily talk yourself out of it if you’ve had a long day at work. Or if you have a slight cough. Or if there’s something better to do within a closer proximity to you. It’s usually nothing personal. It’s just hard to convince a friend to come see you crush on a Tuesday at 11PM in Midtown. Ah, New York.

38. I’ll still be friends with you, by the way. But I’m just saying if Jimmy Fallon ever does call, I’ll be the first to forget to invite you if you’ve flaked out on me 5-7 times already.

39. Speaking of flakes…SNOWFLAKES. Ah, they’re so pretty in New York, aren’t they?

40. I apologize for that last one because I just decided maybe I’m running out of sage New York wisdom to tell all of you…

41. WAIT. Quit putting your MetroCard in your pocket! It’s going to get bent and then every day it works will feel like a god damn miracle! Get a nice plastic cover thing, or a necklace or something really nerdy but actually necessary.

42. You will trek back the to the bar in Williamsburg to find your MetroCard in a bathroom because it flew out of said pocket when you were taking care of business (#1 calm down, people!) and you will be so so thankful to be living on this amazing planet, I mean really that was a close call.

43. Even though I just said New York isn’t what Hollywood cracks it up to be, being a comedian in New York is pretty much just like that movie Don’t Think Twice and you’re pretty convinced you can be on SNL if you just dump thousands of dollars into the right improv theater or a big producer will just happen to be in the front row of your show and in dire need of a curly-headed white lady with a few hot takes on dating and yoga classes.

44. Speaking of which, you’re going to have to come up with some pretty creative responses to your grandparents at Christmas when they ask you why you aren’t on SNL yet.  

45. Some days, you’re going to look at your life and not even recognize it anymore. Which is equal parts cool and terrifying. It’s cool because your “old life” or your “pre-New York life” seems like a lifetime ago and your “new New York life” is just so fucking awesome you can’t believe you didn’t think about doing this before. It’s also terrifying because you wonder if people know how unhappy and scared of life you were back there, and you wonder if others are experiencing what you did, and are struggling to break into something new. You hope they get their acts together and move to New York, or Start teaching English in Japan, or Whatever it is they're dreaming of doing someday.

46. Life can be pretty damn lifey. No matter where you are. And for me, New York has brought out the coolest and most awful experiences of my life and somehow smooshed them into a few quick months. When I think about all the lifey shit I’ve been through since making the jump, it’s absolutely amazing that I’m still alive. Really. I’m pretty sure half of you expected me to be taken out a taxicab by now.

47. While you’re off galLIvanting in New York doing your comedy thing, your friends’ lives back home are going to change too. They’re going to call you up and invite you to their weddings and tell you about the homes they’re buying and the babies they’re having on purpose. It’s going to feel a little weird at first. You’re going to second-guess your choices for about five milliseconds. And then you’re going to snap out of it, be happy for them, and continue sending them funny Snapchats of you drunk on the subway after a great set where you shared a stage with someone who was on Conan.

48. Being on Conan is actually a lot more common than you once thought. Which makes you feel kind of not as bad about yourself when you explain to your mother that there was only one person in the audience last night at your show. His name was Steve. He was really nice. 

49. Your mother is not going to care about this detail because she’s so god damn proud of you. Yes, it stresses her and your dad out more than you will EVER understand (because you yourself don’t have kids that have run away from you to the Big Bad Apple), but the real truth is that they’re both up to their little ears in pride about what you’re doing with your life, even if they lightly shame you every once in a while or say “I told you so” every time your shit gets stolen off your front porch.

50. New York is going to be your best friend on your best days, and your worst enemy on your worst. It’s going to fill you up with sparkly magic and simultaneously kick the shit out of you on the curb in front of your cool new friends. It’s going to make you work for it. Because if you don’t, there’s just going to be a few billion other people who will. You’re going to get lost all the time and find yourself in ways you didn’t think were possible. New York is going to push your fucking buttons. But at the end of the day, you are still here. And you’re going to keep showing this city that you mean business because that’s what you were born to do.

Photo by: Jajuan Burton 

Editor’s Note: This post was actually written in Denver, Colorado. Because as the universe would have it, I’ve been invited to audition with 79 other people for a speaker position at tedxmilehigh from 14,000 applicants. Updates to come if I made it in, but honestly who gives a shit when you look at those numbers? I am crushing ittttt.  

How I Moved To New York With a Plan and Found Magic Instead

If you squint real hard you can see my best-laid plans going to shit but finding better things instead. 

It’s a Tuesday night at 9 PM and I’m transcending.

I’m holding a beer standing in the back room of a bar I’ve never heard of. Big winter jacket and heavy backpack still on and weighing me down.

But right now I am light as a feather.

Because a stranger is standing on a tiny stage before me surrounded by twinkly lights playing what I can only comprehend as pure magic. He’s playing wine glasses filled with water and singing a song he wrote at the height of the Syrian refugee crisis.

It occurs to me that there are only about 15 other people in this tiny room experiencing this right now with me. I wonder if they too understand. I wonder if they know just how privileged we are to be in this room surrounded by this sound. 

My heart is so full I think I might burst into a pile of confetti on the floor.

It was a Thursday night and I saw my first improv show since moving to New York. The lights came up on the stage and I remembered the first time I fell in love with comedy; sitting on the floor in front of the TV with my sister well past our bedtimes watching reruns of Whose Line Is It Anyway? until we both fell asleep.

It’s a Monday night and I’m coming home from my day job as a nanny. I saunter through the downtown streets of DUMBO, Brooklyn and have to stop myself because the light is hitting the city across the river in such a breathtaking way that I take the long way to the subway.

The really long way.

In fact, I forgo several stops and almost walk myself all the way home.

It was another Thursday night when I followed a crowd of improvisers I didn’t know to a bar I’d never heard of and had the most important conversation of my life.

A conversation not unlike any other introductory walkthrough about who I was and why I was there in New York City.

“I’m a writer,” I announced a little unsure. “I mean my book isn’t published yet or anything, but I’m working on it.”

I guess I hadn’t realized that the words “my” and “book” might generate some interest to a complete stranger.

And some follow-up questions.

As fate, or coincidence, or even magic would have it, this particular stranger (Hey Aaron! You’re THE MAN) knew a publisher who just months later would take a chance on me and my little book, changing life as I knew it forever.

I used to be afraid of magical moments such as these.

I would watch moments of pure joy and wonder come into my life and brush them off as mere happenstance; anomalies in my overall “predictable” life.

Like that time I sat on a rooftop drinking wine in Toledo, Spain with my best friend staring up at a billion stars and a 3,000-year old cathedral thinkin' "dayum, life is good."

Oh, you know, just sitting on a roof with the most amazing view fine how are you.

Or when my best friend and I single-handedly curated two amazing art shows in Denver with 13 artists in a gallery that we couldn't really afford with an audience of 300 people and we felt all fancy and shit. 

Here I am using fake confidence to tell an artist that I've kind of screwed something up in his exhibit. He's taking the news really well.

Or that time I went to New York City for the first time a few years ago to take an improv class just weeks before starting my short-lived career as a high school teacher.

It was there that I’d get my first real taste of the magic.

“This isn’t real life,” I’d spit back to the universe as I performed on one of the most notable improv stages in the world at the end of the week-long intensive.

“I can’t actually do comedy in New York. That’s not a life I get to live. That’s just ridiculous.”

For whatever reason -fear, doubt, perceived adult responsibility- I didn’t believe in magic back then.

The idea that I could find and even create wonder in my day-to-day life terrified me. Magical moments were spontaneous, and my meticulous and planning-obsessed brain didn’t like spontaneous.

In fact, my brain fucking hated spontaneous.

It was hard enough trying to conquer the grocery store without sucker-punching someone back then, much less try to organize my life in a way that allowed for disorderly magical shit.

I returned from my week-long improv adventure in New York a bit shook up, traumatized even. For I’d seen a taste of something I didn’t think was possible or realistic for me.

“I had a lot of fun,” I told my mother (true). “But I don’t think I could ever live there.” (False).

To this day my mother recounts this very conversation as evidence enough for me to come home right this very minute you hear me. And at that time I truly didn’t think I could live in a place as magical as New York.

The night before I packed my two suitcases and took a one-way to the Holy Land, I had an epic meltdown in my parent’s kitchen while finishing a bowl of mac and cheese. 

“I’m so fucking scared,” I said, discarding my cheesy carbs and looking up from my detailed and color-coded check-list titled “New York Attack Plan.” Items included hilarious things like “Week 1- Get a job” and “Week 2- Sign a lease.”

“What are you scared of?” My dad said from the sink as he scrubbed a pot.

“Dad,” I gulped. “I’m scared I’m going to fail-” The word “fail” was promptly interrupted by a cascading waterfall of ugly tears.

“Oh, sweetie,” he said softly and rushed to my side. “You are not going to fail.” My tears were globbing down my pink face now and making a mess of my lovely (and supremely unrealistic) to-do list.

“First of all, you’re too stubborn to fail. You get that from me,” he chuckled. “And second, as bad as I want you to stay, I know in my heart that you’re going to get out there and do something amazing.”

My scared tears quickly turned into “why is my dad so adorable” tears and it took a bag of chocolate chips and half a box of tissues to get me down off the ugly crying ledge.

There would be a lot more ugly crying once I arrived in New York City.

There would be job rejection after job rejection. My dad would get some cancer* and I’d have over $1,000 stolen from me by a student loan scam. I’d have a heartbreak and I’d spend a lot of time on subways contemplating the meaning of life but also just staring out into no-mans-land and missing my stops.

The fear of an unknown place with a billion people zooming around my head sometimes made me question if I was going to figure my shit out without completely draining my savings account or if I was going to have to stick my thumb out and bum my way back to Colorado like a total failure.

But hey, guess what.

That didn’t happen. Because I’m still here.

Dad was right.

I’m sitting in a kid’s play studio watching the boys I nanny parkour off of gym equipment and kick soccer balls with ridiculous accuracy at my head. I’m submitting 400-word pieces to clients like banks and plumbing companies and podcasts for $15 a piece. I’m managing a 20-person co-living space that I tell everyone is a commune. I fill my days with performing plays about talking Brocolli to 4-year-olds and fill my nights with telling jokes to drunk strangers about performing plays about talking Brocolli to 4-year-olds.

And maybe this is all a little magical too.

I propelled myself into a magical life by letting magic exist in the first place. It hasn’t been easy or anything like my carefully-crafted “Attack Plan” would have predicted.

But I’m staring out of the boy’s bedroom now, tucking them in** and telling them they can’t have another popsicle. And out of the window, I can see it. The most magical of all New York structures.

The Empire Fucking State Building.

Up close and personal with Mr. Empire in 2015 probably about to get hit by a taxi while taking this. 

If that’s not magic I don’t know what is.

*I am happy to report that Dad is now cancer-free and as awesome as ever.

**This has been the most arduous, horrendous, and emotionally traumatizing of bedtimes for these lil ’ monsters including the 2-year old chucking a baseball directly at my eyeball during storytime, lots of tears (from them and possibly me), and a kitchen tantrum/Mexican standoff involving a popsicle stick and a ham and cheese bagel. I’m just lucky to be alive right now let me tell you.

P.S. If you want to make this fun for me, comment below with your #magicmoments! 

50 Things You Learn Your First Weeks in New York City

Me: "HEY, I'M WALKIN' H-" Taxicab: *proceeds to move toward me*

I’ve done it, you guys.

I’ve survived. I saw a rat and it didn’t eat me and I can get on the subway without the doors closing on my backpack now! Isn’t this all so exciting?

As hopefully you noticed by now, I moved to New York two weeks ago.

Geaz. I hope you noticed I was gone. That would be really shitty of you to not have noticed that kind of thing.

Anyway.

As the excitement of the first weeks winds down and I find my routine, I’ve been reflecting a lot on what I’ve learned in this short amount of time. It has been the most humbling, exciting, and terrifying 14 days of my life. Here are the biggest lessons I’ve learned so far:

1. Don’t go to Target for produce. Okay, or for anything really. I know this is hard since you’ve been handing 60% of your income to Target for about 15 years now. But really, just avoid Targets, okay?

2. It is easy to convince yourself on your first grocery shopping excursion that you can just take one backpack and fill it up with food and be fine. Please note that by the time you leave the three different grocery stores needed to get adequate food, you will have accumulated one large, human-sized bag in addition to your over-stuffed backpack that you must carry on the subway by yourself hoping to God you don’t recreate that scene from Home Alone where the bag of groceries rips in the street and reveals that he’s not a real grown up after all.

What's that? Do I need it double bagged? Why would I need it double-ohhhhh...now I see. Be gentle. I'm new here. 

3. Sometimes it’s just too damn peopley outside.

4. Other times you will enjoy seeing hundreds of thousands of people and feeling like they are all tiny mysteries with their own stories to tell.

5. But if there’s ever a deadly outbreak of a disease you’re going to absolutely die first because you come into contact with 7 billion people every single day.

6.     Leaving the house without a cellphone charger is pretty much a death sentence.

7.     It’s not impossible to have kids in New York. I’ve seen a single mother of five well-behaved and beautiful children on a subway train at 10 p.m. and it may have been past all of our bedtimes, but they handled it like total champs.

8.     Buzzfeed will not let you upstairs to “see Dan” if you don’t have a legitimate interview.

9.     Most places will not let you upstairs to see “Dan,” “Tim,” or even “Katherine who you emailed that one time” without a legitimate interview.

10.  It’s extremely annoying when people ask you: “So how many interviews have you been on?” and you have to explain to them items 8 and 9.

11.  It’s less emotionally defeating to just email or call to follow up on a job even if your whole life you thought “showing your face” was the quickest way to receive employment and prove your worth in society.

12.  It is entirely possible to sweat through denim jeans. Or denim shirts. Or denim anything. Jesus, why are you wearing denim anything you sociopath, it’s TOO HEAVY A FABRIC.

13.  There are those who can stand up on subway cars without holding onto anything…and then there’s me.

14.  Automated hand dryers are very useful in the event of arriving to a fancy digital media business and learning in the bathroom that you’ve sweat so hard that it looks as though someone has dumped a bucket of water on your back.

15.  If a receptionist has no recollection of your repetitive email correspondence she will ask you if you “want a sticker” to try to get you to leave her desk. If that doesn’t work, a dog will come in and everyone will surround that dog and you will be forced to leave with your stupid sticker because at this point your odds of getting anyone’s attention are negative one billion.

16.  Some subways are air conditioned. Most are not.

17.  New sweat glands that never existed before open up when you move to New York.

18.  Shoes that you could wear comfortably for an entire day now feel like constricting metal death vices filled with shards of glass. Or like an oven mitt that’s been set on fire and then filled with Legos. I’m trying to find a fancy way to describe this and it’s kind of going south but you get the idea: SHOES HURT.

19.  Due to #17, blisters are a thing.

20.  Nexcare Foot Tape will save your life and you will never leave the house without it again.

21.  Sometimes people in Brooklyn double park onto the sidewalk.

22.  It’s not creepy to make silly faces at a baby on the subway as long as you do it for five stops or less.

23.  The Statue of Liberty is not nearly as big as she looks on TV. Plus she’s got some man hands.

24.  Don’t fall for the “Subway Sob Story” which usually begins with a strangely dressed man and the words, “Attention Good People of the L Train –”

25.  While you kind of feel bad for the person in item #24, you find it hard to believe Steve’s girlfriend would have dumped him and kicked him to the curb after learning his 4-year-old daughter was diagnosed with hemorrhoids and is in need of immediate butt surgery.

26.  Headphones are the easiest way to avoid awkward people on the subway.

27.  Even though you easily catalog 50,000 steps a day, you will retain your muffin top. Because cheese and sugary wines are still your best friends and most mortal of enemies.

Why, yes. Yes, our waiter did have a man-bun. How positively cosmopolitan of us.

28.  Listening in to conversations will become your newest and most favorite hobby. *Thick New York accent* “Listen, Jerry. I got this cheeseburger, kay? Are you listening? Kay, I got this cheeseburger. Took a bite. Jerry, I took a bite. Sour.”

29.  Seeing trash on every street becomes normal and doesn’t smell so bad if you just walk faster.

30.  You must resist the urge to scream, “HEY, I’M WALKIN’ HERE” every moment of every day because a taxicab will try to run you down at any opportunity and will not find your witty antics funny nor will they stop their vehicle.

31.  Calling your mother daily is absolutely necessary and actually comforting.

32.  If you don’t drink enough water you might as well go buy a shovel and start digging yourself an early grave.

First day expectation vs. reality. This is the shirt I sweat through from item 14. Why, yes, that is a white shirt. 

33.  Guys on Tinder in New York will offer you to come to their apartment after exchanging approximately five words with you. Or less.

34.  Bars have a $20 minimum on credit cards.

35.  When you see a rat, it is customary to leap off of a park bench and into an oncoming crowd of people.

36.  Sometimes when you go to check out a hip new “start up” in the city, you may come to find that the people at the address listed have never heard of this place and when you try to email the HR department that you’ve been in contact with for several months, that email might bounce back at you and also tell you that this place doesn’t exist.

37.  If you find an apartment under $700 dollars, the neighborhood will have a cop car on every corner and the people scheduled to show you around will conveniently have forgotten that you scheduled to see the place. Take this as a sign and proceed to the nearest subway station and never look back.

38.  Going to an improv class is the quickest way to make new friends who will gladly walk you to your subway station and ride along with you to make sure you reach home safely.

39.  People in New York are not as mean as the reputations that precede them. Each and every one of them went through the same ordeal of finding legitimate employment and housing. They know things that you don’t know. And 99% of them are willing to help you in any way they can.

40.  Your parents and loved ones will question your choice to come here most days, but deep down are supportive and loving and excited that you’re doing this.

41.  You will also question your choice to come here most days. But deep down you want to piss yourself in excitement every time you see a cool building or walk through Central Park.

42.  Google Maps is not great at navigating through Central Park so it’s often necessary to rely on your own (skewed) sense of direction. Or your friend with a flip phone that keeps questioning why Google would take us that way. Or that way. Hey, aren’t we just going in circles?

43.  Ellis Island is absolutely amazing but you must beat the Boy Scouts to get on the Ferry. If you time it just right, you can see the entire museum before noon and leave just as 12,000,000 people are coming off of more and more boats making you wonder if you’ve accidentally entered a time machine and are actually in the year 1901 and in line to get your eyelids pulled on by a scary metal tool to check for trachoma.

44.  You can get into The Museum of Modern Art for free by being really nice to the receptionist and getting her to feel bad for you that you came all the way into the city to give your resumé to Human Resources and they “don’t work on the weekends.” Proceed to wander around MoMa for the next three hours enjoying the air conditioning and getting to see Picasso’s, Pollock’s, and Warhol’s.

45.  It’s completely acceptable to sit at Tompkin’s Square Park listening to Mumford & Son’s song “Tompkin’s Square Park” and cry while you eat your lunch in broad day light because of that one person you miss back at home.

46.  Getting anywhere in under an hour feels too good to be true. And probably is.

47.  It’s easier than ever before to feel inspired in this place. All of a sudden, you are surrounded by creatives, entrepreneur’s, and hustler’s that make you want to be the best version of yourself.

48.  Sometimes you worry if you’ll ever get to that best version of yourself.

49.  Sometimes you fear your own fragility and failure and that the city will eat you alive and sweat you back out.

50.  But deep down to your very core, you know this place will change you, challenge you, and transform you in more ways than you ever thought was possible.

"We're not in Colorado anymore, Tucker..."

I never really considered myself a "small town" gal.  I always pictured myself as more of a "big city" lady; trolling around some bright skyline looking for love in all the wrong places.  

Sophisticated.  Street smart.  And with killer style to boot.

Ha. Haha. Hahahahahahaha. 

(That's me laughing audibly loud at myself from this busy coffee shop table)

Today marks my fourth official day in New York City for the first time.  And while I would love to say I am the version of Carrie from Sex and the City that we all aspire to be, I am actually Tom Hanks from The Terminal.

You see that movie? Of course you did.

Tom Hanks is the man. 

I am perpetually confused and bumble around hoping to make sense of something or someone.  Sometimes I'm not entirely sure if I'm even speaking English.  My "Resting Confused Face" follows me around the subway as I get on and off of trains that only occasionally take me to my intended destination.  

So I'm a smidge directionally challenged it turns out, but the Big Apple hasn't entirely chewed me up and spat me out just yet. With some time I think I could stumble gracefully into this place.  

The first day was the hardest, hands down.  As I exited the subway for the first time I started walking in the general direction of the swarm of humans also exiting the subway.  I figured being a salmon wasn't the correct move so I went with the flow.  I walked towards the metal turn-style to leave to the street.

Right as I was in the middle of the turn-style about to pass through the metal gate, a woman approached me from the other side.  I was already almost through and she entered my turn-style.  

We made direct eye contact.

Um, hi.  Hello.  I'm in this one.

I didn't say this out loud.  But I thought about it.  She continued to make eye contact with me as she kept coming at me at full speed.

Suddenly I thought I must have been going the wrong way.  Surely I was doing it incorrectly.

I went into reverse and backed out of the turn-style as she continued like a freight train into my lane.  I backed all the way out as she passed by me as if it was nothing, making uncomfortable eyes at me the entire time.

"Oh my goodness, how embarrassing," I thought.  "I just went the wrong way in a turn-style."

Nope.  No I didn't.  They go both ways.  She was just a busy New Yorker who couldn't be bothered to move out of the way.

She high-statused the small town fuck out of me. 

Which is easy to do when you look like me: short, baby-faced, and with a permanent confused furrow in my brow.  Worry lines, if you will.

I have always loved big cities.  I have just never seen anything this big before.  I mean New York City is enormous.  People are on top of people here.  If you hit the town at the right time you might just see more people then you ever even knew existed. 

Where are all of these people going?  What are they doing?  WHY ARE THERE SO MANY OF THEM.

These are the thoughts I have as I get on and off the subway each day.  It makes me physically anxious.  Am I supposed to look them all in the eye?  Do I compliment each person I see on their outfits?  Is it okay to ask someone how their day is going?  I'm just at a loss as to what to do about all the humans I see on a daily basis here.  

Not only have I battled with my human-related anxiety levels while here, but I have attempted to adapt quickly to the environment.

I do things in New York that I would never do back at home.

Subway too packed?  Let's cram on in there.

Sketchy street deals?  99 cents for pizza AND a back massage?  What a steal.

Don't Walk sign?  Sure, let's walk.

My mother is most likely cringing at the thought of these things that I have just said, but I adapted this way to make it out alive.  I mean don't get me wrong.  There was plenty of overlap between Suburban Me and City Me.  

A good day was getting lost five times instead of six.  I think my count this morning is only two, so we're on a roll.

(knock on dirty wood table)

Well, back to the old grind as they say.  I have approximately three minutes to inhale this fancy sandwich and trek the five blocks to my improv class.  Which is plenty of time if you're a New Yorker.

Bye! Or as they say in New York,

"..."

(says nothing and proceeds to jog-walk past you in the turn-style.)