New York is the greatest city in the world. It’s not perfect and on occasion, I curse its name on those wormy days when the Big Apple is pretty rotten. But all in all, I love this city!
I remember the exact moment when I knew New York City would be my home. I was on my second job-hunting trip (I flew to NYC from Michigan to go on interviews and apartment hunt). It was the summer of 2004 and I had just finished the interview for what would be my first NYC job– a position at a large do-gooder organization in Lower Manhattan. I didn’t have a yay or nay from my future employers yet, but I felt good about it.
I sat on the steps of the Met in my plum-colored sheath dress (kinda like something First Lady O likes to wear in black) with the matching jacket draped over my bag. The summer sun alternated between sublime and brutal depending on the clouds. I savored a $4 strawberry shortcake ice cream bar (legal robbery by those vendors in front of the Met) and I people-watched as I talked to my mother on the phone about how this was where I would live.
Technically still a tourist myself, but dressed like I was on a lunch break, I answered the doofy questions posed by the more obvious tourists with their fanny packs, “I Heart NY” t-shirts and poster-sized city maps. “Where is the Empire State Building?” “What train goes to Brooklyn?” “Can we walk to the Statue of Liberty from here?” Felt good to be mistaken for a native New Yorker. Plus, I could actually answer their questions. I had done my homework. It was my second job-hunting trip, but my fifth visit to the city that never sleeps.
That was my last day as a tourist. I got “the call” soon after and moved three weeks later. I’ve been a Detroiter/New Yorker ever since.