It's been 7 years since I arrived in Manhattan and I've lived a lifetime here. I remember flying into LaGuardia and being picked up by my sister's boyfriend (now hubby). All I had was a carry on bag and a backpack. I remember thinking to myself, this is it, I'm in NYC -- can't back out now. There was a sense of dread and not excitement because I hated NYC, even before I stepped foot in it. I started the first six months on Darko and Hummer's couch. I woke up before them and came home after them at midnight. I would tell them that I work at the sawmills and that misery was my best friend.
Today, I can't find myself leaving this place. It took a while, but I've overcome the rudeness, the dirtiness and the attitude that's inherent with Noo Yawk Sidy. I've lived through 9/11, broken relationships and the Internet bubble, but I'm still kicking it. Perhaps 7 more years? Who knows but the good Lord.
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