Back in the BK

He did not remember my coffee order. Not only did the man at the deli not remember how I take my coffee but he also fucked up my bagel. But other than that, things have been going seemingly well.

I arrived in New York yesterday at approximately 2:50 pm. My mom came and met me at the airport which was nice because my bag was too big for me to manage on my own and I really didn’t feel like spending 40 dollars on a cab ride back to Brooklyn. I’m not sure why I packed so much. It’s fine though because I somehow tricked the airline into thinking it was “carry on” size. When my grandma asked why I brought so much stuff I told her I didn’t know what my plans were so I wanted to have a variety of things to wear, my grandma’s response was “Well you’ll probably just be going into Manhattan and going to the movies, right? ”I laughed and didn’t respond. Oh grandma, she is so naive.

I felt very obnoxious when my mom and I got on the bus with my giant bag and people had to climb around us to get to their seat. Okay, I’m being slightly dramatic, my bag really wasn’t that big. I think it just seemed really big because it drew unwanted attention to me and I didn’t want people to think I was just some random tourist (although wearing my Wisconsin state earrings probably did not help my case).

When we got off the bus, my mom and I walked to a pizzeria near the train. I kept smiling at strangers but quickly remembered that people in New York don’t smile at one another unless they are perverted or psychotic. So then every time I started to smile I tried to cover it up but I’m pretty sure I just looked confused and contorted. Finally, we got to the pizzeria. However, I quickly felt flustered once again because I was unsure of how to order my pizza. In New York we say “can I have a regular slice?” and in Wisconsin they say “can I have a cheese slice?” I panicked and ordered a grandma slice (you know the one with pesto and cheese and what not)

After we finished our pizza, my mom and I got coffee and caught up. I couldn’t help but notice that the taxis in New York are now green instead of yellow and was really distracted by that for a good 20 minutes. We finished the remnants of our coffee and I figured I should try and use the bathroom before getting on the train, however, the door was locked. The guy working behind the counter saw me waiting there and handed me this big, rusty, metal spoon with a key attached to it. I suddenly remembered how the crack head coffeehouse I used to go to when I still lived in Brooklyn did the same thing. The bathroom, to say the least, was extremely unpleasant.

Getting on the train was a lot more strenuous with a medium-on the verge of over sized- bag. It got caught in the turn style and we had to take 3 separate, really gross, elevators in order to get to the train platform. The train ride itself was not so bad though.

When I finally arrived in Brooklyn, I was expecting to get some weird, overwhelming sense to be back but I didn’t. Not that that’s a bad thing it just struck me as strange that it felt so normal to be back in my old neighborhood and not feel the slightest bit different.

The last time I visited New York, I remember writing that I’ll always have a smiling face and a cup of coffee to come back to; this is definitely not true. But it’s still the same dirty, gentrified, pigeon invested city that I love so dearly.

Ah, it’s good to be back.


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