i’m writing this from the plane out of laguardia that i boarded by the skin of my teeth. to be fair, it would have felt foreign if my last morning in the city went smoothly and without complication, like my return flights from los angeles i arrived two hours early to while the beach boys’ “don’t worry baby” was playing. no, just like the other five days i spent navigating this glorious hell, nothing came easily. i arrived into town at 8 a.m. and the main entrance to the metro north was blocked off, an easily resolved inconvenience i should have seen as foreshadowing. once on the train, i was too anxious worrying about how the hell i would get to the airport shuttle stop in five short minutes to think about anything else. finally in grand central, i scrambled off, using all my observations of the ruthlessness of new yorkers in a hurry to justify pushing past people and walking in front of ambulances with sirens blasting as i mouthed meaningless apologies. as expected, iphone maps betrayed me, and i was too flustered to pull out the city map that saved my ass countless times during this trip. bob dylan’s “obviously five believers” blared in my ears as i asked turkish taxi drivers on their breaks to confirm the direction of east 41st street and attempted fruitlessly to spark a marlboro light while half-running. finally i spotted the airport shuttle and went full speed towards it, imagining i was weightless, a nonentity en route to astoria, my suitcase a manageable encumbrance. i j-walked in front of a taxi and silently dared it to hit me. part of this is because it would be quite fashionable to die in new york; partially because i have no money, which is the same as dying; and partially because, if i only suffered a minor injury, i could turn a profit off of the settlement and stay in the city a little longer. but sadly the taxi did not hit me, and i had to proceed to the shuttle attendant who asked my destination. “laguardia,” i said breathlessly. “that will be fourteen dollars, ma’am. cash or credit?” i could see my expression shift from anxious to crestfallen in the reflection of his glasses, which repulsed me. silently i bargained with the situation and considered lugging my suitcase to the subway instead, which wasn’t nearly as ominous as everyone had made it out to be. plus, maybe i could catch one more street musician or a comedic monologue, like last night’s ride out of harlem.
“i thought it was free,” i said, as if it would make any difference. new yorkers didn’t sympathize when it came to money, even if i was charming on my good days and unusually lucky when placed in a bind. he laughed coarsely and put his hand on my shoulder and leaned in to say, “my dear, nothing in life is free.” i considered this an uncommonly kind response to my naivety. that’s the thing —new yorkers are nice people. everyone just hates to hear the truth, so they decide to put the blame on the residents, overlooking the reason why you have to communicate so honestly here in the first place—if you don’t, everyone will fuck with you. and that’s the best case scenario. if there’s money or survival involved, you can find yourself in a lot of trouble. and not a single person will care, because they’ve seen it all. if you want an easy life where everyone is friendly and mistakes can be reversed, move to the south. but don’t be surprised when you find yourself sleepless one night, realizing that all your interactions are based on half-truths and no one really says how they feel and choosing a safe lifestyle was the silliest decision you could have made. living that way works for some, i suppose. but growing up safe allowed me to realize that i’d rather risk being slashed on the subway or doing unspeakable things to afford a sandwich if it meant i could live fully and honestly. i ended up paying for that airport shuttle, because i had the means and decided i’d had enough transportation nightmares this week and missing my flight was not going to be one of them. once at the terminal, i lit my cigarette immediately, a luxury i knew i would miss very soon—the ability to engage in my vices publicly without being judged, i mean. another great thing about the city is that you can spend all day and night there as a virtual unknown. there’s something beautiful about being surrounded by people for hours and not having to talk to any of them. of course, if you’re looking for a little conversation or commute advice, many people are happy to oblige. you have to pick them carefully, though. i experienced the most luck with jewish-italian mothers and middle eastern men running hot dog stands or driving ubers. i checked my bag in and the man assisting me admitted he was allergic to cigarettes. “well, you’re in the wrong city then, aren’t you?” i said with a jovial laugh, relishing in my small victory over someone who actually lived and worked here. if i could tolerate more than him, that must mean i really belong here, right? right?
the line for security was disgustingly long. i was almost sure i would be late for my flight. normally i would have pulled a sob story to a security guard, pleading them to help resolve my entirely preventable slip-up, but i knew that no one would care and didn’t feel like embarrassing myself. up until this point i had been incredibly fortunate, so the only reasonable thing to do was put my faith into the hands of god or whomever had decided that i would eventually make it out of here unscathed. after thirty minutes in the security line and with fifteen to spare, i ran to my gate, shoes in hand. even in my panic i was able to see the humor in the situation: a young girl, obviously not from here, booking it down the walkways and hissing at the slow movers that got in her way. i arrived, flushed, and was glad i didn’t use my poor timing as an excuse until i absolutely needed to, for i ran in front of a group of people toward the attendant collecting boarding passes and gasped, “i was supposed to be a44.” “okay, that’s okay,” he said. “you can put your shoes on and then hand me the pass.” i could have kissed him! i followed the steps and entered my gate, incredibly grateful for every person along the way who had made this possible and wondering what i had done to deserve such divine providence.