Excerpt



Fate, it was fate!!! There I was at Heathrow airport in London, for the third day in a row. Embarrassed to say, I had missed two flights to New York. It wasn't my fault, I tried to tell my friends who I was leaving behind; they had laughed profusely at my constant bad luck. They teased me and somehow thought that this was a sign that I mustn't leave, that I would forever stay in dreary old London.

I protested that that was not an option; although I would miss them dearly, New York if I ever got there was where I was going. As I sat on the stiff, uncomfortable airport seats holding my extra-large suitcase, that others proclaimed to be a small house on wheels, I thought, So far so good; today the train to the airport had not been stuck underground due to an emergency stop, nor had a I slept in because my alarm clock hadn't gone off due to an apparent early morning power failure.

And there it was, the announcement for boarding for American airline flight to New York. Throngs of people rushed for the gates as I just smiled and acknowledged that today it was real; today, despite all things conspiring against me, I was in fact going to make it to New York. As I was one of the last ones on the plane, I struggled to find a vacant seat. Finally there it was, the one empty seat on the plane, or half empty as its neighbor was a Mr. five hundred pound seat hugger, to put it nicely. I squeezed into my seat and buckled up. I reminded myself that it would only be a seven-hour flight, yet perhaps it would be seven hours too long.

After take off and already suffering from a small case of "suffocation", I decided to head for the back of the plane and take the time whilst it was empty for a bathroom trip. It was apparent, though, that others had the same idea. Waiting patiently in line I couldn't help but overhear the conversation. It seemed as though most of the passengers were American and I could even detect that thick New York accent like in the movies I used to see. This made me smile. it wasnt a dream anymore, it was real, and as I stared out into the cloud ridden sky the plane now swiftly sailed upon, I lost myself in daydreams of New York and my new life there.

Now standing in line for a good twenty minutes the tension started to rise as everyone was getting impatient for their turn in the bathroom. It was also apparent that the same person had been in the bathroom for this entire time and was either in there with someone attempting to join the infamous "mile high club" or they had a really bad case of constipation. To this notion I laughed with the guy in front of me, perhaps we were both just bored, yet we started to strike up a conversation.

His name was Peter, and after detecting a New York accent, I was right; he was born and bred a native New Yorker. He asked what I was coming to New York for, and before I could really get into it, the bathroom burst open and out came two people just as suspected, looking hot and flustered. The young couple filed past all of us in line, a little embarrassed as wolf whistles and attempted high fives were made. I laughed, Peter was next so he dug in his pocket and handed me his business card, winked at me and then he disappeared into the bathroom. After my little bathroom adventure I resumed my seat and was glad to see that mr seat hugger who was now snoring and sweating profusely had decided to grope the window, instead of me. I examined the business card Peter had given me. Peter Gordon, dentist, his practice details and even his cell number. I wasn't quite sure why he had given me his card, I mean sure, he was cute, yet I hadn't even a chance to tell him that I was coming to New York to be an aspiring journalist. How did a dentist think he could help me with that? Perhaps he could fix my teeth, I laughed to myself. I guessed that this whole business card thing was the New York thing to do, though I was a little confused. It was only after living in New York I would later find that it is indeed the very thing to do.

New York, New York, what a sweet ring to its name, what would a free spirited twenty two year old girl like me from a little town in Australia do in the capital of the world. Adrenaline fueled me and pumped through my veins, mixed with anticipation. I could hardly contain myself and sit still in my seat, here I was now an hour into the journey across the Atlantic, and on my way to the big, concrete Jungle.

Dreamer, oh yes a big dreamer was I, just ask anyone who had ever met me. I sat there staring into the aisles and at all the passengers on the flight. People intrigued me, looking at all the different faces I wondered if they were coming to visit New York, did they live here already or were they just like me, coming to live a big dream. I believed we all had stories, fascinating ones that were just crying out to be told, hence one of the reasons that I wanted to come to New York and be a journalist.

Millions and millions of people scurrying around the streets of Manhattan, amidst all those big bright lights. The Times Square, I could see it now, the Brooklyn Bridge watching the skyline of Manhattan, was it like they say, the City that never sleeps? I bet it was, this excited me and with this in mind, I decided to take a little nap, for a while. I felt somehow I wouldn't be getting much sleep once I got there.

Fast, everything was moving fast, even with my eyes closed. I could see visions like from the movies I was captivated by as a little girl. The yellow cabs, oh how I had always wanted to ride in one of those. Small things enthused me and almost everything intrigued me. I had always felt there was something missing in my life and although at twenty-two I had already been traveling the world for many years and lived in London, I still hungered for a thousand more stories in life, and the story of New York is the one I wanted most. Don't disappoint me my friend; you don't know me yet, but somehow I feel I have known you my entire life.

Would I stand out in New York? Would I be different or would I be the fitting stereotype of the Australian girl? I was the freckle faced, dirty blonde kind with that intriguing accent from down under. Average height, average weight, average hair, come to think of it average best summed up most things about me. I always knew deep down that in some way I was special, perhaps even unique yet I never seemed to be all that spectacular in anything I did. I was always just pretty bloody average. Come to think of it, growing up I did excell at track, a bit of an athlete, yet after training round the clock for many years, I just decided it wasn't for me and that was that.

Perhaps there were other things I would have been great at if I had given them a go, yet another thing about me was it was hard for most things in life to keep my attention for very long. I started to think about home, not London where I had lived for the last few years, rather Australia and my little hometown of Geraldton. I hadn't been home in so long, and of course, I missed my family and friends. I had spent most of my life two minutes walk from the beach, from paradise. As a little girl I would walk barefoot along the soft sandy stretches of shoreline and hear the waves crashing, the gentle breeze behind me as I stared out onto the open blues of nothingness and would dream away. That's what I did best.

Somehow paradise just wasn't enough for a girl like me, that something missing perhaps started as that young girl who was found from dawn till dusk one day in her little sandbox at four years old digging a huge hole, apparently I had said I was digging for New York. What did a four year old know, only the magic that touched her about the place at such a young age, and now here I was, almost a world away on that one-way ticket to New York. Waiting so much for that something to happen.

The lights went out, and enveloped us in darkness, a small subtle acknowledgement that it was apparent naptime for all on Flight 434 to New York. I sat there in a trance staring at the monitor watching the map of origin to destination. It was obvious that the little airplane crossing the ocean represented that we were well across the Atlantic by now. Somehow I wished I could have physically reached into the monitor and moved it to the destination now. I would have if somehow I thought it could have made this journey any quicker.

I began laughing, there was no way I could go to sleep, it was like I had a caffeine fix on life. I felt like, through the anticipation of it all, I would just explode. My jaw was hurting from the large smile I had been wearing on my face all day, and as I sat in silence, I heard the whisper of my father, reminiscing on the words of inspiration he had once said to me.

"You can do it, don't let anybody bring you down, you know what you want, so go and get it."

I felt warm, I embraced these words, like I had done so many times before, it kept me going, and I really needed it at a time like this. Lonely, I began to feel a little scared even. Perhaps reality was settling in from the comforting words from my father I was reminded of, which now turned to hesitation. I really was alone and this was emphasized when the hostess broke in over the microphone giving the landing speech. Mentioned were pickups, and people who would be there to collect you and I realized that nobody would be there to collect me. I didn't know anybody in New York. Was I really flying to New York when I knew absolutely nobody there? I looked around again at the other passengers starting to put their belongings in order and prepare for landing, imagining their loved ones, kids, and even friends waiting anxiously to embrace them in a big warm hug welcoming them home. I didn't have a home there, in fact, I didn't even know where I was going to stay for the night.

New York was a big place, if I thought finding the exit to the airport amidst the thousands of people would be overwhelming, I couldn't even imagine what it would be like just filing down any given busy Manhattan street. Where would I stay, a hostel? They weren't so bad sometimes, sure the beds were uncomfortable and you did share a room with fifty other people, but hey at least it was a roof over my head. I hoped I could find one of these places, would somebody lead me in the right direction or would they lead me into the dark alleyways like in those scary movies? My friends thought that this move was crazy. The elements of me being female, young and doing this all alone was just "plain crazy" my friend, Pete in London told me. After hearing this I decided not to mention that on top of this I only had a mere three hundred dollars in my pocket.

As I began making my own preparations for landing I searched my book bag to confirm this and yes indeed I was right, there was exactly three hundred dollars. I searched all the other nooks and crannies in hopes of finding that unaccountable extra twenty perhaps that had fallen out my purse, but sure enough not even an extra dime was to be found. I had been so adamant that the lack of money was unimportant when I had left. I would get a job when I got there, Id said, how hard would it be? I didn't really want to think about it too much, I just wanted to be spontaneous. Or maybe impatient is the better word; I just wanted to get to New York. Why was it then, that only a few hours later, I was now overwhelmed by the idea that I was almost broke on my first day of not quite even being in New York yet!

My stomach churned at the idea of my dad ever finding out at the lack of responsibility his little girl had undertaken and even worse, my vivid imagination could picture it now, yes there I would be in Central Park on a cold New York winters night getting as comfortable as one can get in a cardboard box nicely situated with a fantastic view of the infamous Plaza hotel. Argh, just a little girl, perhaps not physically yet I always would be in the eyes of my dad, a real daddy's girl.

It can be all too overwhelming sometimes when you know that the road you are riding on is one you must travel alone. Exciting as it all was, it would be nice to have somebody come tell me that it will all work out for me, a friend to be with me along the way. Would I make friends here, would I get a job? Although I had bad luck just getting on the plane, I was also considered sometimes to be a very lucky person. I had remembered that things so far had just always seemed to turn out.A few months before, I was in Ireland and had met and began chatting with a cab driver who had spent some time in New York I had struck up a conversation as I often did with strangers and began telling him of my plan that was in motion to make the big move to New York. His name was Fergule; I giggled at his very authentic Irish sounding name. He had been a real funny guy and told me of his interesting stories working at a bar called Iggy's in Manhattan. We even sat, once reaching my destination, for what must have been a good half hour in his cab and chatted more about his crazy New York experience. Finally he took out a pen and paper and wrote down the address of the bar he had worked at in New York and said in his thick Irish accent "If you get stuck you go here, you just go to Iggy's and mention me name and they will help you out for a job."

I had kept that piece of paper with me ever since and thanked Fergule for being so generous, perhaps being a bit skeptic I wondered if the bar was real and why Iggy's would help me out, but perhaps I would try to find it and give it a shot. Frank Sinatra once said: "If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere." These words I carried with me, amidst hearing the crazy stories of the big bad New York that will eat you alive everybody would always talk about.

Lost again in my thoughts the hostess tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me that I must put my seatbelt on as the plane was preparing for its descent. Blood started pumping through my veins, I could feel it just as I could feel the plane dropping all to quickly. I always loved take offs, but landing always scared me, I feared dropping from the sky and hitting New York literally in the wrong way. Ten thousand feet... five thousand feet... two thousand feet and then there it was, I had lifted the blinds and pulsating light could be seen as the plane turned to its side, everyone sighed and scurried to the windows just as I. My neighbour was still busy snoring, so I leaned right over him, not caring about his sweaty armpits under my nose, I was lost in awe, yes there it was, my first glimpse of the Manhattan skyline, and for that short moment in time nothing else in the world seemed to matter.