After last night's trek through the Lower East Side, I've been thinking about my grungy start to NY living a few years back. In actuality, it started with a 4 month stint on Darko and Hummer's couch in Dormandy, I mean Normandy Court. The apt complex is commonly referred to as Dorm-andy. If you were a recent graduate, Normandy Court was a common first apt for many. It houses tons of young faces, many with first time jobs in banking and other industries. Every morning it's like watching a bunch of ants, marching from Dormandy to the 96th Street subway stop en masse. The platform is overly crowded with half awake twenty somethings. The first proud suit one owns is something from Brooks Brothers and loafers from Bostonian. For the record, I owned neither but I hear it was the requisite uniform for a 1st year investment banker -- future Gordan Gekkos. And who can beat Zesty's pizza, which fueled all of Normandy's late night hunger.
My first few months in NYC was of pure misery. I would lug my ass to work at 8am and come back around midnight or after. I ate like crap and my experience with NYC was not endearing. I thought everyone was rude - that hasn't changed. NYC felt big and lonely, and everyone seemed to be on the go go or drinking. People who lived a couple blocks away were like in another township and you had to make appointments with everyone. For being one of the most populated cities in the world, it can be the lonliest place.
I finally got my ass into gear and graduated from the dormandy to finally pay rent on my first apt down in the East Village. Located by 4th and 2nd, I thought the area was vibrant with whackos and youngsters, and I lived in the typical shit hole common to that area. I lived in the basement of a pre-war building with two recent undergrads (Class of '00) who were wet behind the years and ready to tackle NYC. Chris and Chris were my two roommates and I had the unfortunate experience of having to live in the same room with one of them; unfortunate because his girlfriend basically lived with us which made things a bit uncomfortable if you know what I mean. Oh the sounds I would hear late at night, 3 feet from my head. Why I tolerated this I dunno why. Anyway, what I don't tolerate is drugs and a few months into the living arrangement, I discovered a little bit of coke had entered into our lives and I'm not talking about the liquid manufactured in Atlanta. I've been around enough drugs and abusers in my life to know that it's never worth it. Soonafter that I was not living with these guys because I don't tolerate drugs. If you ever want to begin dying a slow death where your faculties deteriorate and you lose self-control, then go ahead and do drugs. Otw, stay away from the powder, dime bags, crack, ex, etc. Mary Jane is a different story.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment