A day in the city
I'm going to try to jot this one off quickly because, once again, it's been several days since I've written, and, once again, I'm leaving shortly for a night at the bar to piss away another fraction of my modest savings.
Today I spent the day in New York City. I wasn't there for an interview. I was there with my aunt to have lunch and see a play (rather, a musical--"Hairspray") under the auspices of celebrating my 23rd birthday.
While I was in New York, I saw no fewer than two people from my college graduating class on the street and in the train station. These sightings didn't come as a surprise, but rather as confirmation of an entirely expected eventuality. I knew that I was likely to be in the presence of thousands of people today, and I don't know the first thing about statistics but I know that it'd be unusual if I didn't see someone I recognized. I was not a friend of either of these two (both male) former classmates, but knew their faces from classes or activities or facebook stalking.
Both were impeccably dressed--and moreover, they could have been wearing clothes from the same closet. They wore long wool coats, one black and one tan. The coats covered dark two-piece suits, which in turn covered crisp shirts in pink or purple or dark blue. They wore neckties that were probably paired with their shirts in the Brooks Brothers window. These guys weren't skimping on the accessories, either. One carried a black leather satchel, one a black umbrella with a curved wooden handle. Both had iPod earphones nestled in their ears. Two graduates of the Yale College Class of 2005, up-and-coming financiers or consultants, proudly displaying the plumage of yuppiedom.
As I said, I'm trying to jot this one off quickly (I'm already late). I don't know how the above paragraph is going to read, but I don't intend for it to convey cynicism. If there's one thing I got out of my day in New York (other than a stomachache from the pizza at lunch and an earful of campy showtunes) it was another healthy dose of bright green envy of my classmates who are already making their way in the world.
As I walked around midtown Manhattan, I imagined that I was there not as a tourist but as a professional. I hustled across the street before the white man even lit up; I silently disdained anyone who had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to gawk up at the neon lights; I slid my Metrocard through the slot like I was shaking hands with an old buddy. Names flashed through my head: Newsweek, Doubleday, The New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, Random House, The New Yorker. Even in my fleece jacket and jeans, I slipped effortlessly into my fantasy existence.
We took the 5:16 train back to New Haven. It was after 7 when we got into our car in the Union Station parking lot. For a second, I thought "so this is what it's like to get home after a long day at work in the big city." Then I realized that I sounded like a 12-year-old. Full of hope, but hopelessly naive.
Boy, am I late.
Today I spent the day in New York City. I wasn't there for an interview. I was there with my aunt to have lunch and see a play (rather, a musical--"Hairspray") under the auspices of celebrating my 23rd birthday.
While I was in New York, I saw no fewer than two people from my college graduating class on the street and in the train station. These sightings didn't come as a surprise, but rather as confirmation of an entirely expected eventuality. I knew that I was likely to be in the presence of thousands of people today, and I don't know the first thing about statistics but I know that it'd be unusual if I didn't see someone I recognized. I was not a friend of either of these two (both male) former classmates, but knew their faces from classes or activities or facebook stalking.
Both were impeccably dressed--and moreover, they could have been wearing clothes from the same closet. They wore long wool coats, one black and one tan. The coats covered dark two-piece suits, which in turn covered crisp shirts in pink or purple or dark blue. They wore neckties that were probably paired with their shirts in the Brooks Brothers window. These guys weren't skimping on the accessories, either. One carried a black leather satchel, one a black umbrella with a curved wooden handle. Both had iPod earphones nestled in their ears. Two graduates of the Yale College Class of 2005, up-and-coming financiers or consultants, proudly displaying the plumage of yuppiedom.
As I said, I'm trying to jot this one off quickly (I'm already late). I don't know how the above paragraph is going to read, but I don't intend for it to convey cynicism. If there's one thing I got out of my day in New York (other than a stomachache from the pizza at lunch and an earful of campy showtunes) it was another healthy dose of bright green envy of my classmates who are already making their way in the world.
As I walked around midtown Manhattan, I imagined that I was there not as a tourist but as a professional. I hustled across the street before the white man even lit up; I silently disdained anyone who had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to gawk up at the neon lights; I slid my Metrocard through the slot like I was shaking hands with an old buddy. Names flashed through my head: Newsweek, Doubleday, The New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, Random House, The New Yorker. Even in my fleece jacket and jeans, I slipped effortlessly into my fantasy existence.
We took the 5:16 train back to New Haven. It was after 7 when we got into our car in the Union Station parking lot. For a second, I thought "so this is what it's like to get home after a long day at work in the big city." Then I realized that I sounded like a 12-year-old. Full of hope, but hopelessly naive.
Boy, am I late.
posted by temporarily unemployed at 20:40
1 Comments:
But I'm desperate for more!
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