March 9, 2007

This is the oldest picture I have of me in New York. I'm pretty sure Ryan and Kat have an older one of me passed out on their floor during an episode of Lost, but I last saw that on Myspace and all of those pictures are gone.

This is just over six months into my time in New York, during my 24th birthday celebration. I'm layering a lot of clothes here, so you can't really tell that I'm terribly thin because I'd been having cigarettes for lunch and Top Ramen for dinner for months.

I actually vividly remember the lead up to this photo. I was incredibly depressed. I was homesick, and lost. I had, until recently, been working at Barnes and Noble but had quit to look for a "real" job full time. I'd been interviewing a lot, and had recently accepted a job at some publishing company called Bedford/St. Martin's, but had yet to start and the money I'd moved with was set to run out in about three weeks.

I remember days earlier sitting next to Ryan at a subway stop watching the 6 train pass by. Lonely and sad I remarked, "I bet the 6 are never stopping here, just like that train."

I had no plans for the birthday in this picture. I was broke and jobless. I had a handle of gin in my apartment and was three drinks in when Ryan called me saying he'd take me out for my birthday at our local bar down the street. I remember leaving my apartment, and seeing him outside. I remember walking the three blocks to the Bushwick Country Club. I remember him saying "Happy Birthday" as I opened the door and walked in, and being slightly confused as to why he said it right then. And I remember seeing Anthony and Rudie sitting at the bar and freaking out and hugging them. And I remember seeing Maynard and Mike sitting next to them and freaking again.

It was the best birthday I've ever had. It was the day Megan the bartender refused my free drink order (as the birthday boy) of a PBR in favor of a Johnny Walker Black on the rocks. It was the day the Filipino guy from Lola Ray bought my friends and I our first pickle backs. It was the day I had to put my older sister in a cab to make sure she got home. It was the day I had a problem with Dale and pulled his borrowed hat off of Anthony's head and threw it across the room, never to be found again. It was the day that my loneliest time in New York turned into my happiest. It was the day I puked on the back patio because I couldn't be bothered to get up and wait in line for the bathroom.

After this bar is blurry. A mix of Chinese food and waiting for the bathroom in Ryan and Kat's apartment so I could throw up again. Kenny showing up with some guy named Black Steve. And me, shortly after, staggering back the two blocks home with Mike and Maynard to my apartment to pass out early. But however it ended this was A Night. One of my best in New York. And one I'll always, hazily, remember.