Losing my religion

Wow.

So.

Since I last blogged, my situation has drastically changed. Number 1, I have left behind the perilous and rocky landscape that has been my teenage years - I am 20. Great. Number 2...it's kind of hard to actually write it down, since that would make it true. I got unceremoniously dragged from New York, on a last-minute 8am flight from JFK on the morning of Saturday April 24th. Which meant that a fair portin of my 20th Birthday was spent packing.

Though we did manage to get in a delightful final meal at Marissa's (Duane Park) with what was probably THE BEST food I've ever eaten, I was still pretty cut up about losing two things that are very important to me in one fell swoop - my 20th and my City.

Lynne and Rupert had a very, very good reason for grabbing the last-minute flight when they were offered it so of course I understand why it happened. I just wish I could've stayed a couple more days to say my goodbyes. I knew all along that whenever the time came for us to leave I would never be ready. But at least I was prepared to not be ready. I wasn't ready for this, at all.

It felt a bit like being told there was a hitman coming to find us and we had to go into hiding. Throwing things into suitcases, giving away our food to the dancers next door, leaving all the big toys behind for some other kids to find and enjoy, trying to clean the worst of the mess in the kitchen and bathroom. And then leaving the building in pitch black at half past four in the morning, hardly any traffic on our perpetually busy corner of 7th Av and piling into a big gleaming SUV to be sped through the weirdly empty streets, across 6th, Broadway, Madison, Park, Lexington, all the way over to FDR. Past so many of my havens and familiar sights. Madison Square Park, dark and deserted, and then the glimpse of the illuminated Manhattan skyline, through a corner of window not taken up by suitcases as we drove through Queens. It all happened so suddenly I barely had time to catch my breath - didn't have time to register in my brain that we were leaving. Everything went smoothly through JFK, we sat down for a decent breakfast (coffee, almond croissant, orange juice), we looked at the lovely blue seeping through the dawn sky. What a beautiful day, isn't it exciting to be going home? We can sleep on the plane, everything is great.

Except that it wasn't great, because I was leaving, and this hit me like a mallet in the face when I was in my cushy seat at the front of our section of the plane, next to a window, lots of legroom and a very quiet seat neighbour. Lalala isn't it great. It was, til we started to taxi down the runway and I swear I could see the Empire State Building reaching high above the landscape between us and NYC. That was about when I reached my limit, and I'm not ashamed to say that the floodgates opened. I would like to give a grateful mention to the very kind air hostess who discreetly brought me a handful of tissues and asked if I was ok, all the while probably thinking that I was a crazy person. It's actually really sad for me to write this now, so I'm going to hand over to my faithful companion the LBD, one of the things that got me through the tough times.

Maybe its kind of good that i didn't get the chance to say my goodbyes. To do a final lap of honour round all my favourite haunts, to make sure they are imprinted on my memory to last me through the next 6 months. I wanted to eat my farewell breakfast in the Malibu diner. They're gonna wonder what happened to the weird silent girl with the pink hair. I wanted to watch the sun go down in the West over the Hudson. I wanted to go through Times Square and instead of passing through not seeing (because it has become so familiar to me in the past few weeks) I was going to look up at the lights and reel at the sheer surging energy of it all whirling around me just like I did the first time I ever saw it.
I built relationships here. Some stronger than others. But in 2 months I've made acquaintance with people from every walk of life. And not just people - I think Bleecker St will miss me. I think Washington Square, Strawberry Fields and a lot of 23rd St will miss me.

What I'm trying to say is that having to leave like this, suddenly, like someone on the run from the law, is a good thing. Cos I'm fairly sure that if I tried to say my farewells I wouldn't be able to tear myself away. And if i did it would bloody hurt. So I will say goodbye from the strange limbo that is the aeroplane - I am neither here nor there so letting go of there is not so bad.

Goodbye, New York City. Thank you for all that you've given me. Noone can ever know. I have so much love for this crazy, beautiful place, probably because it welcomed me easily with open arms and loved me right back.
I will miss you so much:
2am pancakes, classes at BDC, freshly squeezed orange juice, music everywhere, Rickys, Duane Park and its party people, cheesecake, the subway especially the indomitable 1 train, the East River, the West river, bridges, John Lennon memorial and the Mayor of Strawberry Field, the Empire State Building, beautful Greenwich Village apartment buildings, Greenwich Ave, Bleecker, Canal, Mercer, Lafayette, St Marks Place and Bowery. Milkshakes, Americans, guitarists, the NYPD and NYFD, chance encounters, bookbook, movies, Friday nights on my fire escape watching Chelsea come out to play, iCarly, this blog, my NYdentity, the Longacre Theatre green room, walking past Hair every week, vintage, stylish men, City dogs, Union Square steps, the NYU buildings round Washington Square, the Boathouse in Central Park, the outside of the Met, the Times Square crazy homeless man with the beer signs, menupages restauraunt search and Seamlessweb online ordering, wide pavements, wide Avenues, pop tarts from delis, chocolate Nesquik, ordering Chinese or ribs or cake at 10pm, the smell of the Subway next door everywhere in our building, Stanley the Super, Marisa Paul and Griffy upstairs, BRGR around the corner, the incredibly strong smell of pot coming from the 4th floor at the weekends, singing loudly in the street and noone caring, the New York public library on 42nd st, the moon but no stars, reading, men in heels, deep graffiti, paintbox buildings, Yellow Rat Basterd, Cafe Angelique, Cafe Champignon, Toasties, Malibu, World Coffee, John's Pizza, Rosa's Pizza, Aunt Butchie's Cupcakes, Fresh and Co. Helpful strangers. The Calvin Klein ad I passed every Monday, Thursday and Friday. Lincoln Centre fountain. Alice in Wonderland, Shakespeare Garden, buskers on the train, buskers in the park, uptown Lexington, the Lower East Side, South Ferry terminal, $10 psychics, $6 manicures and $3 cherry pie, hearts painted on sidewalks, Father Demo Square, Hamlets, gherkins and coleslaw with everything, deli sandwiches, buffalo chicken, the shop windows of 5th Avenue, night time exploring, walking, cheap cabs, sunny days, my neighbourhood, Clearview Cinema, good coffee no matter where you look, rappers freestyling basing their lyrics on people walking past, expecting the unexpected. Being a small part of history.

This was about where I caught sight of the view from the window and couldn't write anymore.

Bye, Big Apple. Be seeing you soon.


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