Bitter and Sweet

New York much like Los Angeles is a city where my love and hate were concurrent. Believe me when I say that I grew to hate the city within the first two hours of my arrival and to my very own amusement fell in love two hours prior before my departure. In between these hours were a void I had not felt in a long time. It was enlightening, yet complicated. Let's just say I wasn't the same when I came back home, for better or worse.

 

The flight by Delta might have lacked turbulence, but this trip and the supporting characters played their part in the turmoil and upheaval that was apart of those few days. Arriving at the early hours of a Friday morning, I found myself overwhelmed and incongruous with a scene I had only witnessed in movies. These feelings erected right when I had entered LAX, I was unable to shake the feeling deep down in my gut that those I was to rely on during this adventure would fail me and gloriously at it too. It proved to be true. Now don't get me wrong, not every person was as insufferable as they seemed, as a few good people that I met there are eternally cemented in my heart. 

Upon landing in NYC, my eyes and heart were flooding. A dream, or better yet a goal of mine I had was finally fulfilled. I had touched down in the city that had occupied the back of my mind for the past few months and for the next few. Much of the emotional rollercoaster was due to the roadblocks I've encountered anytime I wanted to take a trip. Half a mortgage, a job that didn't offer days off, responsibilities to family, and a trip that costs at a minimum a fourth of my salary were some of the obstacles in my way. Not all of us have the financial backing of those who seem to have unlimited vacation days and a very questionable employment status.

It was exactly 12:20 am when the plane made its surprisingly smooth landing at JFK. It was at that moment where the whirlwind of emotions came to light. After my emotional period, along with my gratitude to God, I was struck by the awful side of reality. Strolling through JFK I had realized that my gut was right. Now let me tell you this, when your gut is usually right it can take the joy out of life at the worst moments. As weird as it sounds, being proved wrong at the right moment is refreshing and adds that little mystery we all crave in this crazy world. After all of this philosophical dialogue with myself, I had realized my hope for the night and the little trust I had left within me, was vested in someone absent of any decency or accountability. There I was in a new city, without a place to stay, stranded, left in the filth of the Manhattan air and sending texts to someone drunk and unresponsive due to a "stoner coma." I know what you're thinking, he's a bastard. Even worse, that I'm the idiot for having such belief in someone.

Not having a place to sleep in a city that never sleeps isn't the worst thing that could happen to a traveler, especially for one whose faith doesn't waver and isn't completely helpless. It was around 2 am that morning and news had gotten to the ears of one of my mutuals in NYC, that happened to be in town from Florida. Poor guy made his way down from a midtown flat at 3 am to help me find some food and keep me company. Now, what he did for me was incredible, as he had no obligation to come down at that time and help a clueless tourist like myself find his way around. He helped me keep a little hope for this trip and most importantly faith in people. What a lot of people don't understand about me, as their judgment is clouded by preconceived notions is that I am a softy on the inside. I am grateful, thankful, and reassuring when it comes to expressing gratitude for kind acts. I make every effort possible to repay the kindness that is shown towards me. So, I express my deepest appreciation once more towards Mr. Florida for his sincerity and benevolence when I needed it the most.

After the impromptu midnight savior got food with me, I came to the conclusion that this trip would not be spoiled on the dependence of another. I booked a place and made my way there at 4 am. The biggest burden while traveling is accommodations, it usually is the good chunk of the price for a getaway. At 200 a night I wasn't willing to shell a further 3/400 out for a early check in that was a few hours before my entry. Some spend that on a night out, lets call them extremely blessed. My wallet was from Burberry not Hermes, just to add a little context. So, in my fragile state I made camp in the hotel lobby, adding to my demise on this trip. I was exhausted, broken and devastated as I had only slept for 5 hours within a 48 hour period. This must have been the introductory phase of entering NYC. I was adamant on finding a flight back home a few hours after arrival. I was sure that this place wasn't for me. In the moment I just hated being there and felt as if I was falling into psychosis.

Up until this trip I had always wondered why my luck with people was so dreadful. So, in anguish, in the lobby of the Yotel (yes, yotel) I was left reflecting and questioning why I kept pulling the shittiest of straws in regards to the ones that cross my path. A flaw of mine that contributes to my demise is the trust I hand out so easily. Some might say that its a quality that makes you more loveable but given to the wrong person it often proves to be a dangerous trait. Maybe, it's just me that believes promises aren't meant to be broken. Maybe, the world has changed and that they're broken just like the ones who make them.

The anguish ruling my body faded as its shift was overtaken by exhaustion. Sleeping in the lobby was impractical and waiting another 7-8 hours to check in would have been tedious. I stuffed my luggage in the storage and made my way to the CVS across the street to grab a Celsius with the hope of it shaking off my grogginess. I made my way down to Times Square and took in every view possible. Slowly, the nightmare of an early morning was behind me as I walked left and right with such buoyancy. It was starting to feel like the trip I had envisioned, one where I would experience a new city and forget about everything else going on. It was great, I had a smile setting in and a curiosity that kept it company. 

What could possibly derail all this optimism and happiness and revert it back to the doom and gloom? A text. From another villain in the psychotic thriller that my trip was turning into. In hindsight it should have never been answered knowing the annoyance I would face within a few hours.

Taking a moment to reflect on this particular day, I realized that a snob bastard from Julliard that was as insufferable as he was crafty with the gaslighting, isn't worthy of my attention at all. I only rank this pretentious west side rat as the fourth blemish on a surprisingly interesting trip.

With all the drama behind, I found myself reunited with my best friend that afternoon. It had been close to a year that I hadn't seen my platonic soulmate. It felt like home seeing Max in a city where I felt so lonely for the past 12 hours. This is a person that no matter my mood is always there to hear and comfort me just when I feel the train is coming off the tracks.