A word about airplanes...

So I've arrived! Day one as a resident of Manhattan. Very exciting. I've been spending my day getting settled...a trip to the market...one to Duane Reade. Now all I have to do is wait on the ten or so packages my mom and I have sent. It was really difficult to sleep last night due to excitement, but my flight was exhausting....

I crammed myself into an incredibly luxurious window seat in coach (or "steerage" as my little sister calls it) and was thrilled that the flight wasn't delayed...yet. After four hours of smooth flying we landed in Chicago only to wait on the runway for about an hour and a half during which time I made conversation with the handsome stranger sitting next to me. Turns out he is a NFL player for a Bay Area team. Alright! Successful AND cute! Turns out he was on his way to his home town of Mississippi and absolutely hates cities. Oh well.

Once we FINALLY pulled into the gate and passengers were deboarding, I decided to take the opportunity to use the restroom. Of course, everyone knows that airplane bathrooms are uncomfortable small, but I took uncomfortable to a new level. Once inside the "bathroom" I reached for what I thought was a toilet seat cover above the toilet. It wasn't a toilet seat cover. Oh no. I found myself clutching another passenger's dirty tissue! Disgusting! I quickly shoved the tissue back into the garbage from which it was plucked by my unassuming hand. After washing my hands, I saw that there were no (or at least I could find no) paper towels with which to dry my hands. Note to self: tissues are a poor substitute for paper towels. Little balls of tissue had formed all over my damp hands and it took three or four more tissues to remove the original tissue debris. Thinking my bathroom troubles were over, I shoved the door open. Of course, the door hit the pilot...pretty hard I must say. After many apologies I was finally able to make it back to my seat...where I waited through another two hours or delay before the plane was able to take off in the direction of Manhattan.

Other than the delays, my arrival was relatively smooth. My luggage was first out (which never happens) and my car found me right away. The trip to my Upper West Side apartment building was pleasant and brief. I tipped the driver the appropriate amount and bounded to the door of my new building!!!.....which was locked....and the doorman was MIA. Hmmm....I was supposed to get my key from the doorman. I called K. Then I called her again. And again. AND AGAIN! I started to panic. For thirty minutes I tried desperately to reach my friend, but she slept through my calls. I was near panic and about to hail a cab to take me to a hotel when the doorman showed up and let me in. Thank God!

The building I'm living in is beautiful. It is prewar, so it's older and the elevators kind of scare me a bit, but the tiling in the entryway makes me feel like I'm walking into a museum or something. I was a bit intimidated as the elevator doors opened onto floor eleven. By this time it was about two in the morning. Making as little noise as possible, I snuck into my new home. Wow! It's a lot bigger than I thought it would be.

I wasn't going to wake K up, but I figured she deserved it for not answering my calls. Lightly, I ticked her foot and she woke up immediately. Oh sure, a slight touch on your foot and you wake up but a million phone calls and I get nothing?! We spent the next hour giggling and catching up. She said to me, "I have fun plans for us tomorrow night. Have you ever heard of Tortilla Flats?"

When I was an intern two years ago Tortilla Flats was the restaurant/bar I most frequented. It was there that I met all the "priviledged" men who took me to fashion shows, expensive dinners and hot clubs.

"Have I heard of Tortilla Flats? I'm queen of Tortilla Flats!" I can't believe K hasn't been yet!

And so I've been in the city less than a day and already crazy plans are in my future. I wonder where tonight will lead?