>This past weekend, I went to New York. I didn’t exactly know how I would feel when the Megabus drove through the Lincoln tunnel and spit us out in the city. Since I’ve gotten to DC, I’ve explained on numerous occasions that I am by no means a “city person,” and my attraction to Washington is by and large due to its size, layout, and intensity (or lack thereof). Yet, when we ruptured out of the tunnel and looped around the EZ-pass lane, I was greeted by massive skyscrapers, bright lights, and–if only to be cliche–“THE NEW YORKER” lit up in a sharp, intrusive red. I leaned back in my seat and smiled. I was home.
My initial reason for traveling to the city was to see Sufjan Stevens at the Beacon Theatre with my family. I started listening to Sufjan back in high school, and I can say with no hesitation that he is my favorite musical artist (just listen to “Come On! Feel the Illinois!” or “Romulus.” I dare you not to be moved). What is more, he is wonderful to just stare at. Even if his music was horrible I might still attend his concerts. I mean, CMON . His speaking voice is also incredibly soothing; it’s like honey being poured over a smooth granite countertop. Or something.
The concert was also an opportunity to see my family and friends, since I can’t come home for Thanksgiving and the amount of time I’ll have at home for the holidays is yet to be determined. So I left Saturday evening after work (and two cocktails to provide me with an entertaining ride) and got into Manhattan around 11PM. I took the 1 train up to 110th st, and was greeted by my best friend:
We immediately went to the market by Nic’s apartment, bought beer and ice-cream, and headed to Nicole’s digz. Her place was a lot bigger than I expected, but the layout is completely bizarre. There are long, narrow hallways connecting each room; the extra space for a seemingly mile long tight-rope walk to the bathroom could’ve been used to make the kitchen bigger than its current 10×10 frame. The bathtub is a whole other story. The faucet is on the left corner, yet the shower head is in the middle of the back wall and the shower curtains open up like theatre curtains.
In any case, the place was cozy, and Nic did a great job making her room colorful and restful–two things needed for a crazed masters student who named a fly in her room Bill and frequently eats canned olives for dinner. We laid in bed with beer and ice-cream, chatted about nothingness, took pictures, and fell peacefully asleep.