New York, Day 1 and 2

Day 1: The dorm has WHAT?!

I’m in New York!

So I essentially did not sleep the previous night due to packing. I slept during the ride to the airport, during the plane ride, during the ride to my dorm.

The dorm I’m staying in is… rather old. Did I mention how odd it was to move into a dorm again? Like, didn’t I just graduate college? Wasn’t I supposed to be done with dorms?

Also, the dorm room has only one bathroom.

The room is for FIVE PEOPLE.

ONLY ONE BATHROOM.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

I mean, there’s only going to be two people now so it’s not a problem, but five people using a single bathroom? It’s going to be a nightmare!

Sigh, at least I got here first and got to choose a nice spot for myself.

And then I fell asleep not long after I started unpacking. Damn sleep deprivation.

After dinner, and a K-mart trip, the other roommate Elsa came over.

“I came here a few hours ago, but you were sleeping, so I decided to leave you alone,” she said.

Oh. Sorry!

But it turned out Elsa was only dropping off her stuff and was going to sleep elsewhere today.

Normally I do not mind sleeping alone, but in a strange, large room designed for five, it was rather spooky. But I fell asleep before I can even contemplate that fact.

NYU Brittany Hall!

My section of the room. Posters make everything less dreary.

Day 2: Mr. Cynical and creepers in parks

First day of internship.

Thankfully, it didn’t take that far to go to the journalist’s place from where I was.

I have only heard of the New York subway and have never actually rode one; from the accounts I have heard, it was supposed to be dirty, full of homeless people and pickpockets, and rats running around like it was medieval Europe during the Black Plague.

Surprisingly, I saw no rats. In fact, the subway was cleaner than what I had suspected. It seemed decent enough.

Robert said I'll be seeing rats soon enough, though... =_=

I met up with the journalist (who I will now refer as Mr. Yoo) at a Burger place near his apartment.

“So, why do you want to be a journalist?” Mr. Yoo asked.

“Well,” I stammered. “I want to let people know what’s going on in the world in an easy and accessible manner?” Well shit, that sounded rehearsed and unnatural.

“You know that journalism is an industry on the decline, right?”

“Yes.” I know that, thank you very much.

“You said you worked on your college paper?” said Mr. Yoo.

“Yes.”

“I started out similarly; I was young and naïve like you, and I worked at a school newsletter and liked it, so I pursued journalism.

“But I think journalism is a job that’s better to have when you’re young,” he said.

“Why? Is it because of stamina?” I asked, puzzled.

“No, you need to have a lot of energy in any job – I mean in that when you’re starting out, all your friends are in entry level positions in companies, they’re not doing much while you seem like hot shit in comparison, interviewing famous people everywhere.

“But when the years go by, and you see your friends promoted to management positions, and you’re in the same place… they seem to become the protagonists in their own life, while you’re always writing about other people… you don’t feel like you’re a protagonist, you know? And you start to wonder how long you’re going to do this.”

WOW. Cynical, much?

“And journalists are not as esteemed as it used to be, nor is it a high-paying job…” Mr. Yoo continued.

You do realize you’re talking to your INTERN? Are you trying to drive me away from the profession on the first day?

We made some more small talk while munching on our burgers, in which Mr. Yoo said that the schedule will be a bit irregular, but he’ll give me enough work “that [I] won’t be bored”.

...Why was this necessary? Measuring success in terms of pay and going to big companies, the need to be a “protagonist” in your own life, where everyone has to be at your command?

I honestly don’t care about being a “protagonist”; I’m a person of very few talents, writing being one of them. I want a job where I can write, and that is good enough for me. Besides, isn’t writing about someone enough to be a protagonist? You shape your words in a certain way to portray a person in a manner you see fit. You write about others, yes, but it’s you who’s ultimately in control of the whole process. Am I being too idealistic?

We parted ways after lunch, and I decided to take a little tour, since I was near Times Square and all that is fun.

The view when I get off the subway.

The buildings are so big!

I decided to stop by a Sanrio store nearby.

Kitty-chan as far as the eye can see.

Uhhh... tanned Hello Kitty? Wow, I've never seen a brown Kitty before. That's new.

Sadly admissions was a bit too expensive.

Fanciest McDonalds entrance I have ever seen.

Somehow there were a lot of mascots walking around.

When I walked into the Times Square proper, it was all skyscrapers and stores. It was overwhelming at times, but that's what makes New York New York, I guess.

Can you see the ball that drops every New Years?

Disney store!

 After that fun little excursion, I headed to Byrant Park, where the trees provided a nice cool shade from the sweltering heat.

Nice park, chill atmosphere.

A reading place? Best park ever!

While I was sitting on a bench in Byrant Park, chilling out and minding my own business, a man came up to me and pointed to the sign that I was sitting next to.

“Landmarks in Byrant Park. Have you seen all of them?”

“No, It’s the first time I’ve been here, actually.”

The guy was middle aged, with graying hair. He seemed ordinary and friendly at first, asking general questions like where I was from, and what I was doing in New York.

But then he offered to take me to Central Park, since I was obviously enjoying myself in Byrant Park.

Um.

“Nah, it’s okay, I’ll go there some other time,” I declined.

“Don’t be shy, I can take you there no problem, you can look around and come back, yes?”

“No, really, it’s fine.” Ummm.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He changes topic.

“…yes?” I answer hesitantly.

“Is he Korean like you? American? Oh, not a black guy, I hope!”

UMMM. Also, that’s racist.

“He’s not a black guy,” I manage to utter. I KNOW that I should have walked away already, but I was already glued to my chair in alarm, like a deer in front of headlights.

“Hey, I won’t see you again after today and you won’t see me again after today, so can I ask a question? Have you been intimate with your boyfriend?”

WHAT.

“You know men only want one thing, yes? They want the sex. You need to be careful about that.”

Holy shit this is really uncomfortable I’m not going to talk to you.

I think Mr. Creeper was sensing my incredible fucking discomfort, as he attempted to make me feel better by saying, “Hey, don’t worry. I have a daughter just like you. She’s around your age, no, younger than your age.”

THEN WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME LIKE A FUCKING CREEPER? YOU DO THAT TO YOUR DAUGHTER TOO?!

“But you need to be careful around men, you know?”

YEAH PEOPLE LIKE YOU, OLD MAN!

“Your boyfriend, he beg you to have sex with him, no? But you should say no, you don’t want a baby inside you, you’re so young.”

AAAAAAA PLEASE STOP TALKING TO ME AAAAAAAA

Around this point I kind of broke and did not say anything but laugh nervously and awkwardly, not that I wanted to talk to this guy about any of the things he said Christ.

Perhaps because he wasn’t getting anything out of me except for a half-crazed “hahahahahahahahaha”, or sensing that he was no longer welcome, he finally decided to retreat.

“Well, take care then, You’re a beautiful young lady.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Well, that was CREEPY AND AWKWARD. I have seen crazy people, I’ve also seen people who were so clearly trying to kidnap or extort money. But I’ve never really run across a creeper. I guess big cities will have a higher proportion of crazies. I guess this is less ambiguously creepy as the Italian guy who was offering to take my friend Yiwen to Coney Island. But yes: if a man (or woman) you never met offer you to take you to a place you’ve never been, DON’T FUCKING TAKE THAT OFFER.

Perhaps this is why I came back home and fell asleep at 7 P.M. and slept until 8 A. M. the next morning.