EX in the City
By ex wife new life on October 13, 2012
Last week I went to New York City. That's right, The Big Apple, City that Never Sleeps, If I can make it there...etc. I went to visit my sister, who owns an apartment across the street from Lincoln Center, 27 floors up, with doormen and revolving doors, (if someone knows a way of getting through one while dragging carry on luggage without looking like an idiot, let me know. ) Anyway, it is New York City living at its' finest complete with an upscale Mexican restaurant in the bottom floor. As a side note, in New York city, you can order any food, any time to be delivered right to your door. If I lived there I would be like 600 pounds in no time and they would find me in my bed with Real Housewives playing over and over on my DVR and Indian food smeared all over my sheets.
As much as I love my trips there, I am not really a city person, and for someone who's not a city person New York can be a bit overwhelming. Soup Nazis are everywhere, disguised as Pizza Nazis. FYI-Make up your mind before you order a slice. Don't hem and haw and request light sauce...just don't. New Yorkers don't like this kind of crap. They do not take it well. One time I got out of the cab on the wrong side and was subjected to a barrage of Iranian expletives so hostile I thought for a moment I was being taken hostage.
Each time I go, I ask my sister exactly what to tell the cab driver, to get me safely from La Guardia into her living room. I then repeat it to myself over and over on the plane, so people think I am either praying or a Rain Man. After I disembark from the plane, I make my way directly to the taxi line, muttering "West 63rd between Columbus and Broadway." When the taxi cab line guy finally directs me to my cab, (Yellow Cab Only, even I know that,) I walk up to the cabbie and scream "West 63rd between Columbus and Broadway!" into his face, much like a Tourette's patient.
Once safely inside my sister's apartment, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. Coming from a small Florida home complete with flamingo umbrella stand, New York decor can be a shock to the system. Everything is uber streamlined, all wood and metal. Though our decorating styles are completely different, my sister and I are both creative people. That is another way of saying that in my closet you will find the urn that contains my dog Humphrey, along with cartons of Super Plus tampons and in her closet, you will find expired bottled water that she amassed for Y2K and a few emmy statues under the toilet paper stacks.
Anyway, once I get my gear stowed, we hit the streets of New York. Think Carrie Bradshaw, spending a Saturday afternoon roaming the city, buying fabulous clothes and stopping along the way at all the "in" places for Bloody Marys with friends. Now think again.
Sis has us dressed in our "I'll Take Manhattan" outfits which consists of black jeans and sneakers with all our belongings crammed into our pockets, sort of like bag ladies minus the bags and cart. Carrie usually wears some kind of crazy tulle dress and heels when she takes Manhattan but creative people like us are much more understated. Plus we all know black jeans can be very slimming especially when paired with the right tennis shoe.
We hit the streets and immediately it dawns on me..."Hey...THERE'S A WHOLE WORLD OUT HERE!" The NEW YORKERS are beautiful people. They move about the city with confidence and determination. They have awesome hair. They have little patience but a lot of swagger. It starts to rain, they don't care. Rain bounces off their chests like bullets off of Superman. They know anything is possible. THEY GET IT.
I want to be one of them. I don't want to be that woman who wanders the parking lot at Publix with a cart full of groceries trying to remember where I parked, anymore. When I was married, my trips to New York always ended with an expensive purchase of something to remind me of New York, aka a four thousand dollar carpet from ABC Carpet and Home, which is now rolled up in the garage after suffering through a terrible anal infection with our dog Rudy.
This time I came home with something better: drive and determination to succeed. I dont need an expensive carpet to remind me of New York, I need my inner NewYork voice saying "If you want it go make it happen." I have a picture of the New York skyline next to my computer now, and when I sit down each day to write my book I picture myself walking those streets as a published author. It's going to happen. Start spreading the news.
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