Manhattan

When I first came to Fordham, it was the Spring of my senior year of high school. I would come to the campus one more time before move in day. These were my first two encounters with New York, and neither of them brought me anywhere close to midtown.

I do not remember the exact day that I moved in. I remember that it was the end of August. Less than a week had passed before the gates of the campus could no longer hold us in. I had met a few people and it was time to go to the city. It may have been the first weekend following classes, about 10 of us walked that long, long walk from Alumni Court North (or South - for a few!) all the way up to the Grand Concourse D Station. This was also my first encounter with the very intimidating New York Subway System. It felt almost like I had gone to this massive for-grown-ups playground, a playground nonetheless, and been left there to discover everything on my own. There was no guide, there was no experienced member in the group, and certainly no parent or guardian. The ten or twelve of us, probably looking like prime targets, or at best, stupid tourists, shuffled onto a car in the subway, and we were off. The mission was discovery, and the journey was as colorful as any trip on the Subway can be.

The D stop in Manhattan is about a block from Times Square. The second you reach the street level you can see the light. It's like there is still an area of the city where the sun's light has been trapped, keeping it perpetually day time. In a way, that is almost how Times Square is. There are more people there walking around into the morning than there are in many other places during the day. Luckily, because 42nd and seventh is so bright it might as well just have a spot light beam shooting up from it a la Vegas. This helped guide us to the promised land, or at least that is how it feels the first time you see it.

I remember walking into Times Square, past the ESPN Zone, turning the corner and being pummled with flashing lights, monster-billboards and t.v. screens. It was like a cliched movie moment, totally touristy, and I did not care. I just looked up, walking slowly, and just soaked it all in. I had been in college about a week. I still talked to my parents probably every day, and so I was not totally convinced I had moved on, yet. But when I got to Times Square, it sunk it. I was in New York City. Arguably the most incredible city in the world, the center of the universe. Not only was I here, but I was no tourist (though I did not hide it well). I was here to stay for the next four years of my life, and this, all of this, was to be my backyard.

I don't think we made it anywhere other than up and back down the strip of Times Square and then back to the D. All the while we would stop and take pictures, documenting, proving that we were here and this was ours. That night I discovered that in NY people don't just ask for money on the subway, but they perform for it. I learned that stores can have Ferris Wheels in them and that be normal. And I learned that I was in college in the best possible place to spend my first four years on my own. It did not matter that we saw 1% of the city, or that we saw the most tourist attracted, busiest, and least interesting (when you get past the glow) area. I know every one of us in that group got back on the subway and felt aboslutely ecstatic at the realization that we were here and no where else.

I know a bunch of people visit New York at some point in their lives, and I know some within that group had already seen what I was seeing. I know they still felt what I felt because before they were visiting, and now they weren't. This was home. This is home. At least for a few more weeks.