The Return

Yesterday, I spent 12 hours on a train after getting zero hours of sleep. Not for a lack of trying, of course. Instead, I stared out of the 24th Street window and timed the taxis, but I digress.

I was dropped off by my kind, if not a bit hasty, taxi driver who asked me three times if I was sure I could handle my bags. I dodged the plethora of homeless sitting in the station, checked my bag, and sat down. It was just before 6 and my train didn't leave 'til 5 after 7.

I wouldn't have minded, really, if Penn Station hadn't been like the pits of hell. Even with islands of fans blowing at top speed, it was like sitting on the face of the sun and slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly sinking into it.

We were herded and finally loaded before taking off into what was actually a beautiful day. It was hard to sleep at first because I wanted to stare at everything, but I eventually passed out into what I've come to dub as train sleep.

Train sleep involves a lot of contortion. You must be freezing. You must be woken up at least every 2 hours, if not more. That action must be brought about by one or more of the following: the conductor, the train hitting a rough patch of track, a fellow passenger, or an area of your body so cramped that it refuses to stay in the same position any longer.

In the middle of one of my conscious sessions, the woman sitting beside me came back from the dining car. I was staring out the window, content in the realizations I'd had about the city and my future, but a little unsure of how to move forward. This woman obviously read my mind.

Not only did she offer me hummus and applesauce (not together), she started asking me what I did and what I loved. She lit up when I told her I had a degree in journalism and started spouting off ideas I can't believe I hadn't thought of. She said that I was in the perfect place to do whatever I wanted to do. After a moment of silence, she said:

"Don't settle for something you don't love to do. Don't just go for the first job that comes along. I told that to my kids and I told that to my grandchildren and I'll tell that to my great-grandchildren when they're old enough to understand. It's important to be happy. If you can't find a job that will do that, create your own. There's nothing you can't do without the Lord's help."

I'm not a religious person. I don't even know where I stand on that whole institution right now, but the fact that she tacked on a Christian sentiment to the otherwise brilliant monologue didn't piss me off the way it normally would. It didn't detract from its truthfulness. She said the last sentence so honestly that it didn't feel pushy. It felt like this stranger, in her inexplicable kindness, loved me so much that she couldn't stand the thought of me being unhappy. She thought I should know I could do anything I want.

I came off of the train without ever knowing her name, but she did a service to me just by laughing her infectious laugh and being good without hidden agenda.

My dad and Marigold picked me up and treated me to some nice Indian dinner before dropping me off at Mom's. It was so good to see faces that mean home. I watched my favorite shows and laughed myself to sleep.

I slept for 12 hours. It was miraculous. My eyes are still tired, but my body is giving me a standing ovation right now. You're welcome, body. It was all for you.

Today I'm gonna enjoy the weather in my own backyard. I'm gonna hopefully see some friends. I'm gonna continue to recover so that later this week, I can give you guys and myself some bigger gonnas to look out for.

Last Day in the City

I'm gonna try to enjoy it fully, but I'm gonna be honest: I AM EXHAUSTED!

Yesterday was another day of Astoria adventures. I had so much fun listening to the three people beside me in the bagel shop talk politics. Stephanie and I headed out pretty late to grab dinner. We walked around in the chilly weather for an obscene amount of time for people with hungry stomachs, and finally ended up at a bar a block away from her house.

I then only slept for an hour and a half & have to be awake at 5:30 tomorrow to catch my train back home. This is the most ineloquent blog entry I've ever written, but I don't have the energy to care right now.

See the amount of fuckness I do not give? Maybe I need a Nutriyum bar.

Checking In

Monday: Manhattan exploration from the Barnes and Noble in Union Square all the way into Central Park and out again. I don't find a single sight I don't love. I see the Empire State Building which is actually not an atrocious skyscraper as I have been led to believe. There's art deco design on there you never see in movies. Lying bastards.

Tuesday-Wednesday: Hideout in Queens due to returning health issues, travel exhaustion, sleep interruption due to the Greeks renovating above my head, and less-than-savory news about my prospects up here. I find a bagel shop with not only the most drool-worthy bagels, but also the cheapest. I spend a lot of time with Stephanie. We find a really cool bar.

Thursday: Sleep deprivation continues but I venture out with Steph into the sunny warm weather to the East Village. I fall in love as soon as I step out of the subway because the seasons hottest Prada dress is staring me in the face. I finally see the Chrysler Building. I find more and more to love as we actually arrive in the Village, especially the lovely little restaurant where we sit in the garden and fill our stomachs. I offhandedly mention I want gelato and Stephanie delievers. I finally sit on the side of the N where I can see the nighttime Manhattan skyline.

I'm gonna enjoy my last few days here. I'm gonna balance the rest and ease I need with some more exploration. I'm gonna keep going, despite my setbacks.

These Lights Will Inspire You

Sunday was a whirlwind worthy of Oz proportions, except my train didn’t do anything as epic as kill an evil witch or gift me magical shoes.

My train left at 4 a.m., so I was downtown at the train station before 3:30. Lucky I was, because the train was early. I checked my bags, said farewell to my mother, and hopped on a train of unconscious people. I was the only person who didn’t immediately fall asleep. It might have had to do with the fact that they sat me beside a surly stranger who waved her Internet access in my face before also passing out.

I finally got bored enough to go spend a ridiculous amount of money on breakfast in the dining car, where again, I was seated with strangers who seemed to think I was infringing upon the luxuries granted them as royalty coach passengers. They seemed disturbed that I didn’t enjoy my half cooked eggs and bland grits. They also kept speaking Spanish when they didn’t want me to eavesdrop. I insultingly dubbed them as Nikki and Paulo, though the scene was more out of a certain train-themed Sex and the City episode than any from Lost.

I passed out as soon as I got back to my seat. Of course, this is when my surly neighbor decided she needed to wake up and go to the bathroom. I would have punched her if she wasn’t obviously bigger, stronger, and sassier than I.

The hours went by quickly as I came in and out of sleep and my seatmate decided to lighten up. After all, she was playing “Thriller“ on a loop on her iPod. I knew she couldn’t have been terrible.

I stretched out after she departed and slept soundly until the announcement for Newark, NJ shot me out of my sleep. I looked out the window and saw the Manhattan skyline. I had 15 minutes to make pillow lines disappear and to quell a panic attack.

We rolled into the far-less-spectacular-than-the-original Penn Station where I had to ask a police officer where in the hell I could find my luggage. He was obviously insulted I’d interrupted his staring at a clipboard. I should have realized the man had more important and pressing priorities like standing than pointing behind his head.

Next thing I knew, I was all bagged up, emerging on the streets of New York City. I had to force my head not to look up, but man, my peripheral was having a visual feast.

On my way to the subway stop in front of Macy’s, not only did I successfully disperse a man asking me if I needed a job, but I steamrolled over half of the people walking around me. A cute Japanese woman saw a dollar fall from my pocket and gave it back to me. NYC and me were pretty much instantly vibing. P.S. I had no idea where I needed to go to catch my train, but went instinctively to the right spot. Suck on that, nerds.

I knew my Liz Lemon would come out from hiding eventually, and the subway station is where I found her. I held up the line at the ticket station, but hey, at least the chick behind me seemed just as clueless. I then had to figure out a way to slide my Metrocard, while squeezing myself and three bags through a turnstile about the width of Calista Flockhart. I ended up getting through with two while the other one cried out to me from the other side. I reached back and shoved it underneath with a bit of ungraceful wrestling. I ran down the stairs to see what I hoped was my train about to leave. I threw my body and bags in with such a strong force that I startled the little lads I sat beside.

I enjoyed having 20 minutes to sit on the subway, but as soon as I reached Astoria, I was stuck at another turnstile. This time I got stuck in between two metal bars with an impending group of people rushing up behind me. I finally kicked my suitcase through and kind of jumped out of the anorexic mechanism. If nothing else, I am now a subway ninja.

My friend Stephanie came to meet me & whisked me off to her charming little apartment and neighborhood. We walked to a coffee house dubbed Waltz Astoria where she played in a Japanese relief concert. I sat on my ass, stuffing myself with both food and drink. Sidenote: donate to Japan if you haven’t already. There are a million ways to do so. Use Google. That’s what it’s there for.

We came back home, me wanting to take a nap and Stephanie wanting to finish Half-Blood Prince. I ended up sleeping until 3:30 a.m. Oops. Now I’m listening to the strange noises the Greek family upstairs is making while I attempt to tire myself enough to sleep again.

This covers the first gonna of my mecca to the Big Apple, but I’ve got 6 more days of gonnas to knock out of the park before my mission is complete.