Day 0
Anonymity and invisibility are not the same thing, a fact that I have learned on Day 0. After waking up at an ungodly hour I managed to hurd my family into the car before my plane took off. Unfortunately, I left my pre-selected travel shirt (it’s long sleeve but breathable!) in my closet, which is now the Dominican’s closet. So at 8 in the morning I attempted to become invisible and quietly snuck into my/his room and opened the closet door, all stealthy like… until I kicked over a cardboard box that my mother (inexplicably) keeps (precariously) balanced in my closet. Sad. Double-sad, the cardboard box didn’t wake him. Triple-sad, when the box fell and I involuntarily yelled “Dammit!”. This prompts naked Dominican to notice someone is in his room. He yells. I yell again. The dog starts barking. And I find myself awkwardly apologizing for entering what used to be my room to grab my travel shirt. However, I made a rule to never speak Spanish before 11, so I held up my travel shirt and vigorously shook it. I figure that translates.
The plane ride was relatively normal, minus the fact that there were babies ALL AROUND ME, but they were all astonishingly quiet. One even smirked, if you choose to believe potato-like post-fetal babies can smirk. However, there was a band of Italian men who were traveling back to New York and apparently weren’t used to flying. Naturally, I was seated next to the one man who was accustomed to traveling, so when any turbulance hit I would get jarred out of my plane-haze by the movement, then fully woken up by the experienced Italian air traveler as he shouted reaffirming Italian phrases to his band mates. If its not the screaming-potato-babies, its the screaming flight-weary-Italians. This is why I should drink before flying.
Anyway, the city is everything I remember it to be- cabs and graffiti art and lights and people touching themselves in public. I met up with a girl named Ryan at the airport and we took a cab together to our apartment. Conversation with Girl Ryan wasn’t exactly mind blowing, but I can’t hold people to that kind of standard considering my last conversation of the day involved shaking a dress shirt. She seems nice. During the cab ride I could not shake the overwhelming feeling that this city was not going to let me in it, I can’t explain why. In a place this large its easy to not really feel too special, to just kind of be invisible.
And thats when we ran into the Cute Clerk, the guy who works the front desk of our building in the Village. I took the time to pretend pulling 8 tons of luggage didn’t make me miserable, and instead asked unnecessarily witty questions while he got my room key. I got checked in and he got checked out. Plus, he seemed eager and responsive to all my rooming related questions…. no cute-clerk cares about questions (alliteration)! Needless to say, I will likely make this situation as awkward as possible by the end of the summer.
Still, it is nice to be in a place where Burkeman (yours truly) can hit on unsuspecting minimum-wage employees. Back at university, not so much. Here, s’all good! In fact, independent life seems entirely possible now that I’m here. No more waiting for others to be out of groceries before I can buy some fresh fruit, no more waiting on family to deposit my checks before I can make reasonable transactions, no more pretending Taco Bell is edible, no more complaining that there simply isn’t anything to do, and a sense of anonymity. All big cities are just big small towns, but it is nice to be in a place where you can get a bit of a fresh start. I’m new here; in fact, Cute Clerk doesn’t even know that I’m incredibly emotionally unavailable yet! Being anonymous definitely has its strong points.
However, don’t start thinking you’re invisible, again. While walking down the street with Girl Ryan I noticed a heavy-set woman walking in front of us. But this was no ordinary heavey-set woman, this was a heavy-set woman in sheer white pants. …Oh, no… Clearly, this woman was not wearing underwear. Really, clearly. So I may have (loudly) whispered this to Girl Ryan, who appropriately chortled into her Diet Coke. But at this moment I was reminded that I was not invisible, nor inaudible, as the woman turned around and glarred. I’d like to imagine her inner-monologue was something along the lines of “I’ll stare you down but good!” Regardless, it was my first dose of anonymous hatred since middle school. I’m hoping to make it 24 hours before getting my first “fuck you”.
The rest of the day has been spent unpacking, figuring out which direction is north (which I did), hunting down the closest metro stops, and buying plates (even though my Republicunt of a roommate demands using only disposable items… ozone murderer). I think I’ve got a few things down, and am realizing I’m a bit more city-savvy than some of the other kids who came out here. At times the new city seems to incredibly daunting, and the idea of building a life is so much more frightening than just succeeding at an internship like last year, but whenever I get stuck on that train of thought someone (or thing) snaps me out of it. I remember I’ve got something to prove here. I’m ready for Day 1.
[go, baby. go, baby! were right behind ya]
