I just came back from a trip to New York City. I stepped off the plane on Tuesday night and was mildly shocked by the thirty-degree decrease in temperature. I think I’ve been living in South Carolina for too long. I was greeted by the hustle and bustle of New York, immediately being pushed (pushed, shoved, same thing) ever so slightly out of the way by people trying to get somewhere. Sigh. I’ve missed these people. I felt it necessary to pretend I was a local and shoved back when one woman tried to pass me on the moving sidewalk. Don’t underestimate me woman, I will cut you. Once I made it outside of the airport, I had to play the dumb blonde role for a quick tick since I was utterly lost and my sister was already angry that I hadn’t arrived when she had.
“Hey! Hey! You look lost sweetheart (pronounced ‘sweet-HAArt’) what’s a beautiful angle like you lookin’ for?”
I love New York.
“Haha, how embarrassing,” quick hair flip, “I just have no idea what terminal I’m in, do you know where we are right now?” After the nice young man informed me I was in terminal A, he carried my bag outside and I eventually found my sister.
“What do you feel like for dinner?” It’s 9:30pm. Dinner? This late? Yes, please!
“CHINESE FOOD!!!” I love Chinese food. Dumplings, fried rice, kung pao chicken, spicy beef—everything. Charleston has many absolutely to die for restaurants with the best food you have ever had, but Chinese is not their specialty. In fact, there should be a law that no one can serve Chinese food in South Carolina. If they could, they would deep-fry the bottle of soy sauce and make a dish out of it. Seriously, it’s disgusting. New York knows how to make Chinese food though. Oh yes, China Town, here we come. One of the girls who went to dinner with us speaks Mandarin and totally hooked us up—awwwesooommmme. I went to bed that night on an uncomfortable blow up mattress (which, of course, means I slept on the hard wooden floor that eventually completely deflated) feeling full of deliciousness.
The next day we went shopping. I laughed when my sister told me I would need to wear another sweater or layer because it would be cold out. Please, I’m from San Francisco, it’s always cold there, I can handle a little chill.
Twenty minutes later.
NO I CAN’T. ABORT. GO BACK TO THE APARTMENT! I NEED EVERYTHING!
After I was properly dressed, I told the freezing cold wind to kiss my covered ass, hands, legs, feet, arms, face and head, and then we went on an adventure. I had forgotten what it was like to be around people who walk so quickly. The rush of the wind through my hair as I strutted my stuff down the streets of Manhattan felt incredible. I belong in a big city like New York. It was interesting to see what everyone was wearing there too. I had dressed myself in an outfit that would have been considered kind of edgy in Charleston and my sister, the hipster, turned to me and told me I looked really Southern. I was wearing cowboy boots, skinny jeans, a loose shirt with a tank under, and a pea coat. In NYC, everyone was wearing heavy winter coats, scarves, non-cowboy boots, gloves, hats, and yet they all still looked so fashionable. Note to self: when dressing for cold weather, there is no excuse not to still look good. I saw boys wearing bow ties, except they were super sized and worn with plaid shirts and skinny jeans with dress shoes. I saw women wearing beautiful Hermès scarves, tall stiletto boots and fur coats. Needless to say, I wasn’t in South Carolina anymore. I ate at hipster cafés that served breakfast all day (yes!!!!), walked through Central Park, paid $10 for a crepe, made fun of people ice skating, shopped A LOT, and saw the new Harry Potter movie among other things. What a great week. The drive to the airport on Sunday felt a little surreal, like I couldn’t believe I was actually leaving this incredible city.
I arrived back in Charleston at 3:30pm and it was 70 degrees outside. I swear this is not a real place.
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