Day 1

So, after stalling for the last 6 months we finally made it out of town. I've been dragging my feet pretty bad -- our original plan was to leave for a year, then 6 months, and finally we settled on a measely one-month stay. Luckily, L's been pretty motivated -- found us a place, booked tickets, bought guide-books, etc. So without her I wouldn't be sitting here right now. Why are we here, you ask? Not really a good answer -- because it's here? Nah, both of us know we need to expand our boundaries and get out of our comfort zone. I don't know much about the East Coast and even less about how to get along in a real city.

Anyways, let our story begin. We had a wonderful last week in Boulder -- many great dinners as our friends wished us luck on our trip. We capped off our last day at the Southern Sun, site of tasty beer that's guaranteed to get me up bright in early with a gut-wrenching stomach-ache. Seriously, any more than a beer and I'm a hurting unit the next day. True to form I woke up bright an early at 5:00 am -- right on time for our bus. A short walk brought us to the bustop which was the first leg of our trip. Pretty run of the mill travelling - I really don't like it - but it's worth it to see new places.

(Skipping forward to something even vaguely more interesting . . .) So, we finally arrive in New York. What can I say? La Guardia is great preparation for NYC -- people rushing everywhere, a definite feel of uncleanlyness, and a mild scent of urine. We make it out of the airport okay, knowing enough from the guidebooks to make it through the "where do you need to go?!" hustlers and get a cab. A surprisingly short trip and we're at our destination -- the office of the apartment broker where we need to pick up the key to our place.

Wow, intimidating. I'm only partially sure we're at the right place. It's a little hole in the wall between a big group of people standing around smoking. We act like we know what we're doing and push our way through. We get to the sign-in desk, nobody's there so we continue the 6 feet further to the elevator. I'm making this sound big, but the place is honestly just a long hallway. There's another group of people here all having that hard-to-describe city style -- you know, hat a little cocked to the side, a set of headphones, a cell phone, a torn-up jacket, a bit of 'tude. We wait our turn for the elevator (really just a moving closet) pack our ginormous bags and ourselves in with another fine fellow. Absolutely no acknowlegment of each other, but the guy's on the phone (in walkie-talkie mode BTW) getting a dinner order for his girlfriend. Jerk chicken with extra sauce. "C'mon extra sauce? You gotta call me back and remind me -- I got alot on my mind". My weak writing skills can't do the guy justice, but I'm having a really hard time not cracking up as we sit inches from each other.

So, we get into the office -- the best way to describe this is a little nondescript door (looked like we were going to be retrieving a mop) that opens up into a sanctuary of light, space, and comfy couches. We'd been in town perhaps an hour and I'm already overloading on the place. Just not use to the dirt, smells, noise, and lack of space. I few minutes of sitting and I'm back ready to see what this place has to offer.

We arrive *2 hours* before our apartment is going to be ready, so we have some time to kill. The lady is real nice and let's us put our bags by her desk so we can run around unhindered. We leave, and realize that the whole building is made of offices which explains the large group of people out front -- smokers kicked to the curb. Still though, going back outside is immediately overwhelming. We decide to check out our new building which is 10 or so blocks away. The walk is relatively uneventful, but I feel like I'm in a movie the entire time. I know it's real, but people seem like a caricature of what you'd expect a New Yorker to be like.

Tons and tons of businesses. I honestly can't believe the use of space here -- every inch of ground-level building is used for some type of commerce. Most of the names I don't recognize and it's really hard to determine what the business does. I can wander by a hospital, grocery, bar, or mortuary (yeah really) and I can barely tell the difference. We do come across a Home Depot, which seriously looks like a roman temple. I can't figure out what someone would need a angle grinder here for, but its available if you need it.

We make it to our building and we're pretty psyched. It's on a busy street, but it's by a bunch of bus stops and subway stations. The cool part is that it's between these places -- which means a healthy distance from the hustle, bustle, and weird dudes hanging out. We do notice an elderly gentlement taking a nap by our entrance, but he seems harmless enough.

We continue walking for an eternity until the apartment will be ready. This allows us to get a pretty good look at the Murry Hill neighborhood, the highlight being a dog run in a semi-deserted park. City dogs are different than I expect -- pretty cool, but a little aloof and uninterested in my existence. I try not to take it personally.

Finally our key and the big hike *back* to the apartment again. I'm so fortunate to have a thoughtful wife -- she only moments before talked me into buying a roll-cart for my 700lb. bag. We get back to the apartment and it is sweet. I almost run over the owner on the way in. We have a lot more space than I planned. Three levels! A kitchen/dining area on one level; a living room with a futon, couch, and three or four chairs on the next; a bedroom and bathroom upstairs. It's really clean and I doubt I'll have any cockroach or rat stories to tell. I can definitely handle living here. Oh yeah, did I mention it's $2500/mo?

The downside is the sheets. Not too nasty until you get up close. Yep . . . new sheets are mandatory. We walked by a Bed, Bath, and Beyond on the way here (oh yeah, that *and* Home Depot in one day) and, despite my desire to avoid packaged Americana, we make our way there. I find the piped in oxygen, matching blown-glass dinner sets, and Top 40 tunes sort of comforting in relation to the chaos outside. I finally find myself relating to real locals -- we all find the clusterf**k of a checkout area infuriating. Still no eye contact, but at least I can tell we're all pissed. We stop on the way home for a bottle of wine or two and realize how absolutely worked we are from travelling.

Despite my obsesiveness about making the most of our experience, I concede that tonight is probably not a good time to hit the town. Instead we opt for a nice little Italian place literally downstairs. It winds up being quite good and I really enjoyed myself. When we walked in I sensed the same aloofness that I'd been getting all day, but it wound up that everyone was really friendly. It's weird how population density lends itself to anonymity which leads to aloofness, but underneath most people are pretty much the same if you actually get the chance to talk to them.

So, we make our way home. I honestly don't know if I would have found the place without spotting the feet of the elderly gentleman I mentioned earlier sticking out from a giant pile of trash (I'm sure he's just "resting"). Nice to be back to our new home. I'm already getting concerned that we only have a month here.

As I sit writing this George Carlin's on the TV making fun of Colorado. Man, I can't imagine what the rest of the country thinks of Colorado. Is Southpark just funny or is it true?! I'm too close to be able to tell . . . I'll have to see how I feel in a month.

All in all a pretty good first day.