January the Twenty-Seventh
Today, January 27, was my last day of work at H. Books Inc. This is a significant date for several reasons. It's the last day I will ever: 1) take the subway to work; 2) work in the big, fancy, marble-lobbied National Television Company building; and 3) have therapy with the wonderful, kind-hearted ND.
But it's also a significant date because today marks exactly seven years since I moved to New York City. On a very cold January 27, the Year of Our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Ninety-Nine, I boarded a plane in the Midwest and deplaned at LaGuardia. It might as well have been another planet. I directed the cab to take the BQE, just as my friend JL had instructed, and I watched with a mixture of delight and fear as we swung out over the river and all of lower Manhattan came into view.
[Interesting aside: Once I got to JL's place--above Sahadi's, in Cobble Hill--I did not pass go. I went directly to Duane Reade and purchased a hair coloring kit promising "chunky" blonde highlights. I wanted to look my best for my first day of work, see. I think you can guess how that one turned out.]
On paper, I came to the Big Apple for a job as Editorial Assistant at A. Books. But let's be honest. I came here out of sheer stupidity. I didn't know better; I had no idea what I was getting myself into. All I knew was that I didn't want to return to the Midwest, and I didn't love my college town of Washington, DC, either. When I heard from a friend of my future brother in law that there was such a thing as publishing, and that it happened in New York, I knew where I was going.
That was about all the thought I put into it. I vaguely recall deciding I'd be here for at least a year, and then I'd use those hard-won (and damn good, if I do say so) LSAT scores to get me some more learnin.'
But "maybe a year" stretched into seven. And here I am, all these long, wonderful, hard, evolutionary, exciting, stressful, chaotic years later--leaving.
January 27. Who knew?
But it's also a significant date because today marks exactly seven years since I moved to New York City. On a very cold January 27, the Year of Our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Ninety-Nine, I boarded a plane in the Midwest and deplaned at LaGuardia. It might as well have been another planet. I directed the cab to take the BQE, just as my friend JL had instructed, and I watched with a mixture of delight and fear as we swung out over the river and all of lower Manhattan came into view.
[Interesting aside: Once I got to JL's place--above Sahadi's, in Cobble Hill--I did not pass go. I went directly to Duane Reade and purchased a hair coloring kit promising "chunky" blonde highlights. I wanted to look my best for my first day of work, see. I think you can guess how that one turned out.]
On paper, I came to the Big Apple for a job as Editorial Assistant at A. Books. But let's be honest. I came here out of sheer stupidity. I didn't know better; I had no idea what I was getting myself into. All I knew was that I didn't want to return to the Midwest, and I didn't love my college town of Washington, DC, either. When I heard from a friend of my future brother in law that there was such a thing as publishing, and that it happened in New York, I knew where I was going.
That was about all the thought I put into it. I vaguely recall deciding I'd be here for at least a year, and then I'd use those hard-won (and damn good, if I do say so) LSAT scores to get me some more learnin.'
But "maybe a year" stretched into seven. And here I am, all these long, wonderful, hard, evolutionary, exciting, stressful, chaotic years later--leaving.
January 27. Who knew?
posted by Kelly at 5:00 PM
1 Comments:
i just randomly happed upon your blog and thought i would send a shout out and a welcome mat from CO. i too am a recent transplant from brooklyn (to denver). anyway, check out my blog and email me when you get to town if you want to grab a bite some time in denver and talk about brooklyn! happy travels!
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