The Empire State of Mind

When I arrived in New York a week ago, I had the same sinking feeling and gnawing thought I have every time I move some place new: what the hell did I do?  My plane landed in what I can only assume was a blizzard, although most people who have actually lived in a cold climate would probably call it "mild snow."

New York has always been the place that I yearned to see, that remained elusive to me.  And thus it was surreal to be on a bridge, these dark, massive buildings looming around me, and to see the city for the first time through fogged, snowy windows.  I was dropped off on the side of the road with my bags--too heavy for me to move or carry alone--beside a pile of garbage breaching four feet.

"I'm really in New York."

New York makes the sixth city that I have called home in the last seven years, and as always, I wonder if it will ever feel as much like home as the last one.  I have come from Austin, and it will be a challenge for New York to provide a better experience.  Austin gave me strength in a way I could not have known I was lacking.  It also gave me music and some of the best people I have ever known.

The morning after I arrived, I walked down Fifth or Madison or Lexington Avenue.  I stood at a crosswalk in my Vans sneakers next to luxurious patent black heels and designer handbags as I listened to "Empire State of Mind."

"These streets will make you feel brand new."  Quite a promise.

I vowed to make Austin feel like mine, and I will attempt the same with New York.  I want to know this city and the multitude of untold stories swirling around the subway stations and street corners.

People of New York: I want to meet you.

This is my proposition:

I will go to a new place in New York each week and meet a stranger.  I will ask if they will talk to me and share their story, and I will document it here.

Hello, New York.