I'm in New York! How did this happen? An email through linkedin. Oh hai yes I am freelance here's my reel. (Weird, that company is in NY). Oh hai you want my resume? Where is my resume. No one asks for that, they just ask where I worked last. Oh hai resume you haven't been touched since OCTOBER. La dee da, fixing resume, drinking wine, SEND. Next day, hai are you available right now? Hrmm, well I have a loose hold next week do you want me to keep you updated on it? HOLD WHAT HOLD WE WANT TO BOOK! HOW ABOUT THAT! BOOK BOOK BOOK YOU!
You wha?
So after a few more emails, a Skype session, some negotiations, a one-way fare booked on my miles, a trip to Luggage Warehouse to get a bigger bag, I found myself on a plane. My friend Susie insisted I stay in her place while her and her fiance travel the midwest, and then continue on as their houseguest when they get back. I could find no reason not to go. Apart from my lazy nature, mild anxiety disorder, and homebody tendencies. Oh and the boyfriend, the dog and two cats. But they were all encouraging.
So I got here, got to see Susie and her betrothed for the one night before their departure, and then somehow got myself from Red Hook, Brooklyn to Grand Central station the next morning. By myself. I had only taken the NYC subway by myself once before, and it was under careful consultation with A and only a few stops. I was on my own for sure, with no one around to even give me a final pat on the back. Eeep!
I had known the office I was going to was near the Chrysler 
Building, so I was trying to keep a sly eye out for it (without craning my neck too much like a tourist). I didn't let on how excited I was to be getting off the subway at Bryant Park (the stuff of Project Runway contestant's dreams) or walking down 42nd Street (I was a dancer in the musical in my all-girl's Catholic high school, and I still don't know which part of 42nd the show refers to). My tights, being old and underused as I wear jeans every day in Chicago, were starting to betray me and take a walk closer to my knees. I had to stop for replacements before I got into the office to meet these people. In a way it was good to have a real life distraction as I made my way there. H&M - not open until 10am. Banana Republic - no tights (WTF?). Ahh I know. I need a Duane Reade, which I pronounce in my head Dooo-aun Read-ey. (A. loves this about me.) I found some tights, asked to use the restroom, and felt like a new woman. Went into the office, met everyone and started to get settled in for work.
It was only two days later that I was able to see that the Duane Reade was in the base of the Chrysler Building. I basically was almost naked in the very building I was looking for.
New York is just full of these Felicity-type epiphany moments. I'm looking forward to more.
E
p.s. gift for you -
Statuary garden in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn
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