I had just finished up grad school with my masters. Thank God all those gallons of Foldgers and pulling all nighters had officially come to a full and complete end. I was headed for the real world now, and I felt like a true pioneer. .
I'm originally from Urbandale, Iowa. Never really had the experience of the open, bustling city life. That always seemed so exciting and alive to me. Very attracting and alluring. It was as if those people never needed any sleep. They must be a different breed. Always on the go, catching the next train or hailing the nearest taxi. I longed to live the life of a city girl, so I decided to book a flight for the best of em all. .
New York City.
Ahhh, New York City. The Big Apple. The city that never sleeps. The diversity, the shopping, the sky high buildings, and those gorgeous lofts right in the city of Manhattan. It was all I had ever dreamed of and all I'd ever wanted. .
My flight was to leave at 10:30 on a Tuesday morning. My taxi promptly dropped me at the airport at 8:30. I had two hours to kill. It was too early to have a drink, and I figured it wouldn't settle too well on an early morning stomach. But I wasn't hungry either; I'd never been much of a breakfast person. So I headed towards a nearby Starbucks, and got myself my usual frappe, no whip. And that left me with an hour and a half to spare. I decided to take a stroll down to the closest gift shop, purchase a magazine, a book, and maybe stay for awhile to browse the magazines. It was one of my favorite pastimes. Browsing the magazine racks but walking out with only one magazine and having been entertained thoroughly with tons of useless information. .
I ended up purchasing a book called, "A Million Little Pieces,"" which was pretty fat, but nowadays, you have to be politically correct and obese would be the correct terminology. It was sure to keep me fully occupied.
Finally, seventeen minutes before boarding my flight.