Last Sunday
As soon as we walked into West Park Presbyterian Church, we were already in the wrong place.
As soon as we walked into West Park Presbyterian Church, we were already in the wrong place.
Stories of travel compel us, she says, because “more reliably than anything else on earth, the road will force you to live in the present.”
Last fall, my much-delayed Megabus dropped me off in Chinatown at 2:30 a.m. I had seven percent battery life, four dollars in cash, and no idea how to get to Brooklyn.
The grate creeks and I move to step off, but it snaps under my weight. I’m falling. I thought I could grab the side of the sidewalk, but I can’t.
So there you have it: my NYC role models. Here’s hoping I learn from their mistakes and also make some non-fictional friends ASAP.
But while I travel around working gigs and having experiences that many people feel they desire, something gnaws deep inside me.
The sun keeps rising everyday, whether you wake early to see it or not. (Every now and then, you should wake early.)
So just say you can’t make it. Honestly, it took me a long time to learn this. I used to feel needlessly guilty for all sorts of things until my friend Bekah taught me how to say no to things.
My mom and dad trail behind me, consulting a map. One of my brothers squints upwards, while my sisters are eagerly taking pictures of sewer rats.
17. It’s a small world. You will meet the same people over and over. So if you’re bad at remembering names, start practicing now.