One Week in Brooklyn

It’s Saturday, and that means I officially survived my first seven days in New York City. With driving up, moving in to my third story apartment, starting a job in Manhattan, navigating the subway and walking about ten times more than I’m used to, it was one of the craziest weeks in recent memory. I guess that’s what I get for trying to take my small bite out of the Big Apple.

The week started with the end of a long, 1,500 mile journey my mom and I made from Dallas. We rented a car, loaded it with all my earthly belongings, and set out with Winston in tow. We drove about eleven hours both Wednesday and Thursday, getting up at 6:30 each morning and hitting the road by 7. Mom was a trooper and got us going, I definitely couldn’t have kept that schedule by myself. We were both pretty surprised at how easily and quickly the trip went. Wednesday night we made it to Nashville, then Thursday somewhere in West Virginia. Friday we had only five hours left to drive, and at around noon we pulled into a parking space on the corner of my new home in Brooklyn.

Thankfully John and Michael were home when we arrived, and we spent our first half hour as roommates sharing in the deep bond of heavy lifting. I was quickly acquainted with the two flights of stairs that now see me off and welcome me home each day. The third floor ain’t no picnic. Naturally, New York was and is still in the middle of an unseasonable heat wave, so moving was extra fun for everyone.

Mom’s flight didn’t leave until Sunday, and since she had never seen Manhattan we spent all Saturday hitting just about every high point possible in one day. I’ll say this: bus tours may single you out as shameless tourists among the scowling residents below, but they are a relaxing and simple way to take in New York City in all her glory. We went all around downtown and Times Square, and even took the Staten Island Ferry (which is totally free) and sailed past the Statue of Liberty and the beautiful city skyline. That night Mom, Melissa (John’s wife, my third roommate), my friend Erin and I went out to dinner at an little Italian restaurant in uptown that Melissa suggested.

Sunday, after seeing mom safely off on her La Guardia bound taxi, Melissa and I went into Chelsea to hear a reading by David Mitchell from his novel The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet. Afterward we walked along the High Line, an old raised railroad converted into a city park. I felt very metropolitan. That night I came back to the apartment and did absolutely nothing for a few hours, trying my best to recuperate from the exhaustion of moving and preparing myself for work at 6 am the next day.

That’s right. I started my new job only three days after uprooting and moving halfway across the country. It was not easy. I’ll go into more detail in my next post; suffice it to say that I survived, but only just.

I have Saturday and Sunday off, and my goal for the weekend is to get a bed and a bike. Things are going very well so far, and I can’t wait to see what all the city has in store for its brand new small town Texan resident.