A semester in review.

Credit

I've lived in New York for five months now. Things have changed... I'm a different person, at least that's what I think. I can (proudly, gleefully) spot a tourist a mile off, simply by his or her clothing, I walk really fast, refer to the subway as the train, (Subway is a restaurant, silly) regularly eat off  of food carts, and I know where to get the best pizza. I know that it's silly to take the train if you are going any less than 20 blocks, and I can give a tourist directions without much hassle. I think subway rats are rather cute.

This semester I've survived a "hurricane," an earthquake, and a visit by Justin Bieber to the Empire State Building. I watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade from my balcony, I went to a jazz club (on my birthday, no less) and I have a favorite "Seinfeld" diner. I took a boat tour around the boroughs (with school) and met one of my best friends because of it. I tried to write a novel in a month, but instead started (but not finished) a novel during a month where most of my guy friends had scruffy, wannabe beards.

 I took a yoga class this afternoon, and find myself somewhat adjusted to the stupidly high price of things (like food) around here. I don't notice sirens anymore, unless I listen for them. I've spent countless hours in Times Square, and I've experienced the magic of ice skating in Bryant Park. I avoided venturing into Central Park at 2 am, because, mugged much? I've walked in New York in the rain. I've ridden (all 8 of) the escalators in Macy's to the top floor more than once.

The most peaceful place in the world is my rooftop at night, which has a mind-blowing view of midtown and the ESB. The Brooklyn bridge is beautiful. I've fallen in love with the cozy of the village, the busyness of midtown, and the class of the upper west side.

I know that 53rd street halal guys will still be around in January. I know that the Olympic diner will still be open 24/7, and that 2 Bros Pizza won't start tasting like cardboard when I return. But I also know that in 10 hours, I'm leaving my apartment and taking a train and then a bus to LaGuardia (who was a mayor of New York, and a key player in the fall of Robert Moses, thank you Dr. Hendershott) where I will be packed into a metal tube and launched 730 miles towards a small town with 6,000 people who all know my name.

I will climb into a minivan in 17 hours, and hand my weepy mother the box of Kleenex that I needed moments before. I will see my family and hug my friends and co-workers. I will spend exactly three weeks readjusting to the strange tasting tap water you people have, before I pack into a metal cylinder again, and break away from the people I love to jump back into this great life that I love, expensive laundry, garbage on the sidewalks and all.