Corey's cousin and her husband live in an apartment two blocks off of Columbus Circle. We crashed in their living room for two nights before flying to Milan. Corey stayed with them for a week last summer while he had grad school interviews on the East Coast. I, however, had to stay home and go to work.
So this was my first chance to really experience the city. My one tourist-y request was that we go to the Empire State Building; I wanted to pretend to be Meg Ryan (or Debra Kerr) for a little while. Well, let's just say that only Meg Ryan in a movie can run into the lobby and breathlessly cry "observation deck!" and be immediately whisked into an elevator to find Jonah's backpack waiting for her. Of course I didn't expect there to be no line, but it was room after room of lines, and two hours later we were looking out across the city from it's most famous vantage point. The wait was worth it, but I will pony up for express tickets next time.
After the ESB, we went all the way downtown for lunch, then took a stroll around Battery Park and Ground Zero. We didn't go in to the memorial, but it felt right to just have a moment of stillness on the sidewalk. We had drinks in the Village and dinner at home. The next day we had some time to kill before we had to be at the airport, so we got burgers at Shake Shack and walked home through Central Park. It was amazing.
Now, being a small-town girl from Wisconsin, I went into this trip thinking that every New Yorker was fabulous and polished and on-trend. What greeted me in the city was much better. Everyone in New York wears exactly what they want. They present whatever image they want, and they do it with a confidence that I've never seen anywhere else. It's just sort of "this is how I look and what the f*** do you care?" I love it.
I've fallen in love with the confidence and anonymity that New York City offers its people. You have it even if you are just visiting because it's contagious, and grows with every minute you spend in the city. I truly think that if I awoke one morning with the uncontrollable need to find myself, I'd need to go to New York to do it. And it's not just about fashion choices, that's just where it starts. It's like being a tweenager and your first real experience with independence is choosing your own clothes. You pick an image to present to the world before you've even begun to know who you are inside. The image may change as you learn more about yourself, but you have to start somewhere. It's much more urgent for you to live and interact in the world immediately; self-identity will catch up when it can.
This breaks down to the simple notion that one can become confident in one's image first, then in one's self. Once you are confident in your appearance and stop worrying what others think, there is much more time for self-discovery. The anonymity of a large city like New York gives me the confidence to stop fretting about how I look and focus on enjoying my life and being an awesome person, wife, and career-girl. I can't wait to go back.
