"i was in love with New York. i do not mean 'love' in any colloquial way, i mean that i was in love with the city, the way you love the first person who ever touches you and never love anyone quite that way again."
-joan didion
about less than twenty four hours before my flight, my parents were about to cancel--being that i literally had no where to sleep once i got off the plane.
and twenty four hours before that, this trip hadn't yet existed.
i let go and stopped fighting when they decided to cancel--and in that exact moment of surrender, my sister told me i'd have room to stay with her in manhattan.
i packed and was on my way hours later. the first plane was easy, just a quick hop to san francisco.
of course we couldn't get off the plane for another half hour after landing, right about the same time my next flight would be boarding. sheesh. talk about no control at all.
i got out and walked with great intent (because power walking doesn't sound cute) to the next gate and thank goodness my flight was slightly delayed. an act of God, i swear by it.
this next flight, i sat by a lady who looked disgusted by everything and everyone, including me.. and boy was it difficult to relax *just a little* for the five hours of flying. thanks crying baby and stomach-dropping turbulence and lady whom i will try with great restraint to not call a certain derogatory name. thank you.
the difficulty didn't stop there.
since the flight was delayed, i got to the terminal at about twelve thirty am, which would mean i missed my shuttle by about an hour. and of course no one was at the airport to help me figure out how to get out of there. i can do this, i thought. i don't need help. and i didn't.
i saw a couple together at the airport, and i thought, must be nice to be taken care of like that, by a man who wants to protect you.
but i didn't need it. i felt strong.
i did everything today alone. a whole lot of traveling alone and i felt capable and confident--like i could take care of myself. like i didn't need anyone.
i had myself and that was enough. and that felt good.
i got picked up at around two thirty am from the airport--that's life, waiting two hours in the depth of the ungodly hours-- that's adventure. you gotta roll with the punches.
almost there. almost there.
as i sat in the car, tall buildings passing by, i felt at home again.
a small, cheesy smile spread across my face: i was in New York City.
i arrived at three am, finally at my sisters apartment, carry on in one hand, coat in the other, and under eye circles that gave my traveling-all-day-doesn't-make-me-tired-at-all facade away.
and the best part of it all was that i felt like i got to see something no one really does...
i got to see "the city that never sleeps" in a silent slumber; and as tired as i was, i felt luckier than anyone asleep or awake at three am.
i was home in NYC
in that moment nothing else mattered
-S
