WARNING: With a post about threatening Astorian men yesterday and a 9/11 post below, this might prove to be a serious week. If you're looking for laughs check out http://www.mypreciousroommate.com/ If you think I'm taking myself too seriously don't worry. It's temporary.
November 2002 marked my first and only trip to New York (prior to moving here). Two friends from college were interning at not-for-profit theatres and I decided to take have an adventure before my own year long theatre apprenticeship started. I remember going to Ground Zero and feeling like an impostor. There were still missing persons posters hanging on chain link fence.
That trip I saw 5 shows, learned nothing of New York geography and fell in love with fried egg sandwiches. I went with one friend to look at apartments and was mistaken as a New Yorker by the realtor. I railed against a show in a heated debate with the other friend only to be startled, followed and scared to death by a homeless man. I was a kid.
Labor Day, four years later, I moved to the city. A week and a half later was the 5th Anniversary of 9/11. I remember laying in bed listening to planes descend toward Laguardia, terrified I would hear a crash. My roommates had been in college on Staten Island 5 years before. Their dorms faced the city. My fear was insignificant in comparison to their sadness.
Today, I got my New York Magazine, a special double issue of all things 9/11. As I turn through the pages I'm struck by how many stories I've never heard;The Falling Man, the last survivor pulled from Ground Zero, the impostor widow...
Today, catching up with a friend from home we discussed our work, our families and friends, her engagement and at the end of the conversation she asked me expectantly, "Well, do you still love New York!?!"
Love her? I hardly know her.
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