I’ve been slacking off on my Daily Prompts and to make up for all those missed posts, I’m going to do the WP Weekly Writing Challenge instead. This week, I will get to learn how to add pages to my blog post while I tell you a story. So let’s hope you’re buckled in and ready to go!
I was finally back in New York City, and this time, I was actually staying in New York City – as in Manhattan.
No more taking the cab to Forest Hills where my mother lived and where each trip into Manhattan took some logistical planning, and having to say good-bye to my Manhattan friends and to a night of more promising fun (that I couldn’t have) broke my adventurous heart each time. Because even in my late twenties, whenever I visited my mother, I had a curfew to keep.
However, this day was not that day to start watching that clock.
That first night, I stayed in a hotel in midtown, where my friend Greg took me to dinner and then up to the Empire State Building. For a local, he said he’d never been up there before – but that was because he was, after all, a local.
“Only tourists come up here,” he smiled.
The next day, I met up with John, who also lived in Midtown and whose studio apartment had a view of the Empire State Building. We were going to be joined by another friend from Canada who would come in two days later. In the meantime, John and I had the time to ourselves and the first order of business was who got the floor and who got the only couch/bed in his studio – because I sure as heck wasn’t sharing that one with him.
Thank goodness, John and I were just friends because I don’t think I could have handled any more
sexual romantic advances on this adventure.
Those first two days were filled with so many activities. I got to see Manhattan from the eyes of a local – and not just from John’s point of view, but from my other friends as well. John took me out to lunch at South Street Seaport after a long walk from Midtown, stopping by Central Park to meet friends, before browsing through flea markets. And after a brief break, we then met more friends at some hip new restaurant called Americano – or something like that. Honestly, it was all a blur.
Because I didn’t tell my mother I was in town. Neither did I tell my boyfriend who lived a few blocks from my mother in Forest Hills.
I know, I was bad. Like, really bad.
And guilt was making me not really enjoy myself unless I had a lot to drink – which, in Manhattan is not a problem at all.