On August 1, I left a small town of 6000 people in Western North Carolina and moved to a city of 8 million people. Two months later, I'm hanging in there. I have no apartment, no furniture and no car. But I have a job, a laptop and a monthly unlimited Metro Card. And of course, there is my trusty air mattress and sleeping bag comfortably situated next to the front door in my best friend's living room.
Yesterday, the company I work for had an inaugural event celebrating 15 years of one of their magazines. The founder and former CEO of the company was there. It was kind of neat to see her in person. She was being followed by a video camera crew, her own personal entourage, a security detail of four men in black suits, her three dogs and a slew of ticket-holding admirers and fans all snapping photos as she strolled about the convention center.
My job for the day was to stand in one of the galleries featuring displays of actual items from past magazine covers and photo spreads and to act as the No-Touching, No-Photos (please) Nazi. A coworker, who was on Roaming-Mingler patrol, stopped by and asked what I was doing just as I was about to ask a guest not to touch one of the displays.
"Oh," he laughed, "You're that person." I crossed my eyes at him and made a face. Then I said, "You know all these people are walking away, imitating me and saying, 'Don't touch the displays ... Raaarrrrr'."
Enforcing the no photos policy was another story and virtually impossible (and I mean that literally in the age of camera phones) so we just let that go. After a long day of standing in a company event T-shirt, khaki pants that I bought the day before in Strawberry at Grand Central for $9.99 and white Reebok Classics, another coworker drove me from the pier on the West Side to a street corner on Broadway just north of Morningside (Harlem). There I met with my broker to check out another apartment. We put an application on it, and now it's back to the waiting game again.
But for now, it's time for October in New York City!