Decade in the City

I have many fond memories of summers growing up, spending hours at the shopping mall with my mom. Shopping was a recreational activity. We tried on outfits for hours, carrying piles of clothes into dressing rooms, often exceeding the 6-item limit per person. We stashed bags into the trunk of the car, and eagerly drove our new purchases home to share with dad. I never realized how easy we had it until I attempted to go clothes shopping in the city. My first time checking out the clothes store was on the way home from work. I already had my gigantic purse, lunchbox and gym bag with me. Trying to maneuver and shuffle my way around between crowded clothing racks with all these bags was more trouble than it was worth. I was used to picking up clothing items, draping them over my arms and taking them to the dressing room. Trying on things was half the fun. But in the city, not so much. Once in the dressing room, I would have to unload all of my belongings, remove my coat, try on the ...

My parents and boyfriend helped with the move. Dad drove the U-Haul up the NJ turnpike with me riding shotgun. Mom and the boy followed in a car. We’d done “moving day” many times before, but never quite like this.  Our little furniture dollies were no match for the maze of a pre-war apartment building.  We carried and maneuvered furniture through many doorways and obstacles. There was the heavy magnetic gate to the building courtyard that wouldn't stay open, maneuvering around the fountain to the main building entrance, crowding on and off the tiny Otis elevator with double doors (it was just big enough for about 2 people with a stack of boxes, but at least we had an elevator!!), and finally down the skinny hallway of my railroad-style apartment.  As my belongings accumulated inside my new home, no one could quite believe or accept it. Not even me. Mom kept asking “This is what you want? You sure you want to live here ?” My boyfriend echoed, “You don’t have to do th...

The day I commenced my career as a Media Planner was the very same day I began my life as a city commuter.  The local subway carried me 21 stops - all the way from 157th street, downtown to the West Village. Crowds of people flooded on and off the train at each station. I watched this unfold around me with a sense of great awe. My train stopped in Times Square and Penn Station. I could hardly believe it! Here I was, on my way to the office, riding the train alongside tourists who were visiting the city. The contrast stunned me. This city life - the crowds, subways, noise, commotion - this was now my normal life.  I was LIVING in the city.  Not just visiting - I actually lived here. Every day felt special and magical. Although I lived 8 miles from work, my commute took an hour. As a suburban girl used to cars and convenience, I was spoiled by everything being literally 10-15min away. Spending an hour to get anywhere on a daily basis was unfathomable. Yet here I w...