At the risk of sounding like a postcard (or a T-shirt), I love New York. I’ve been a city girl all my life. Growing up on the Jersey shore, especially central NJ, you hear about the city constantly. As a kid, it starts to sound like the North Pole. My family has New York in its blood: My mother was born in Brooklyn and my father in the Bronx. I can feel that lifestyle buried deep inside me somewhere. When I get off the train at Penn Station and ride the escalator up to street level and the noises and smells start to reach me, it feels like coming home.
I was eight when I went for the first time. My parents bought tickets to Beauty & the Beast on Broadway for my birthday and we went in with my best friend and her parents. I don’t remember many details, but I do know that my lifelong love affair with Manhattan had to have begun that very day. I’ve since gone in countless times, at least a couple times a year. School bus trips. Annual family visits. Nights out with friends. Ten Broadway shows. The Met. Madame Tussauds. The Museum of Natural History. The Rosie O’Donnell Show. Rockefeller Center. The NY Public Library. Battery Park. Little Italy. The Harry Potter Exhibition. Darren Criss and the StarKid SPACE Tour. An ED2010 panel. Strand Book Store. Bryant Park. SoHo. NBC Studios Tour. Chelsea. Central Park Zoo. Ellis Island. The Empire State Building. Essentially all the tourist traps and then some. I actually hate feeling/acting like a tourist because even though I have yet to be able to call it home, it’s my city. It’s the city. Continue reading