After a 2 hour delay, including 1 hour sitting on the plane, I made it to New York. Walking out onto 7th Ave at 33rd St was exhilarating. I tried to get a cab but found a big line. I figured I could take it on myself. I started walking to 1st Ave to find a cab there. I walked from 7th Ave to Park Ave and found a cab there but was refused when I said I needed to get to 104th. LAME. I found the 6 and had to pull my bags through the turnstile, backwards. I let 2 trains pass before I got on. Not so bad. The car was air conditioned and I got to sit for most of the ride. So I make it to the 103rd St station and walk the 4 blocks to 1st Ave. Josh meets me half way and carries half my stuff. Thankfully, too, because I was sick of it.
Now I am here and it feels weird. I guess this is my home now but is it? I don't know where to get groceries or how to read the subway map. I suppose that is the fun of it but it's a bit depressing in the little moments that feel so alone. I'm excited to wake up tomorrow with the first full day in front of me. I'm not really sure what I am going to do but I'm excited for the possibilities and I hope I continue to be excited by those possibilities for a long time ahead. I know that Chicago was a great basis for a jumping point to New York. It laid a great foundation for me as far as city life goes.
This is totally ramble-y. I had more thoughts but apparently forgot them when I decided to type. I'm good at that.
