I remember the first time I came to New York City; I was a freshman and visiting some high school friends at NYU. From a distance, the city seemed safe, compact, and relatively small and the underground maze of Penn Station and the color coded alphabetical/numerical subway system did not faze me. As we rode to Times Square, I thought that I could handle city life despite my rural Vermont roots. Largely as a result of my sheltered childhood, I had a much skewed vision of New York from movies, too many episodes of Law and Order, songs, and the 9/11 images.
My friends and I emerged from the subway on 42nd street excitedly talking about all our plans for the weekend. Then Times Square hit me. The honking taxi horns, shouting vendors, the bright flashing signs advertising Toy 'R' Us and McDonalds, tides of people rolling over me with pushes and bumps, the fresh smell of gasoline and concrete, and the taste of over-used air all thundered down upon me. I was completely overwhelmed. In an instant, I realized that I would always be a visitor in this city because I could never take in enough to become a New Yorker.
It is two years later and I've come back for another round with New York. Except this time, I work in Times Square; I live in the financial district, and attempt to explore every spare moment (although presently hindered by frigid wind better suited for Antarctica). I told my roommates that I wanted to "do everything and take it all in," an impossible goal, I know. But if I do not aim for everything, then I'll always be blinded by Times Square and I want to see beyond those lights.
