My First Time (in New York City)

When I was 16 years old I was offered the amazing opportunity to go to New York City with 30 other girls as apart of a creative arts tour hosted by my high school. The moment I received the letter which informed me that I was a successful applicant I couldn’t believe it. As corny as it sounds it was a dream come true. New York was a place I had always wanted to go and having the opportunity to attend with a bunch of close friends would undoubtedly change my life. Even now, two years on, when I think back to that very moment I found out I’d be experiencing the big apple, my tummy still turns with joy.

On September 20th, 2010 after a 24 hour+ flight, we arrived in New York. It was night time when we got to Manhattan Hotel, just around the corner from Times Square. I couldn’t believe that it was real life. After we got settled, to celebrate our arrival, all 30 girls were joined by the 5 teachers on a group adventure to Times Square.

It was… I couldn’t even…Words can’t- … just wow.

I could honestly go on forever about my two weeks in New York but I’m going to try not to blabber on. So here, I present to you, freshly scanned from my adorable New York diary, the entry my 16-year-old self wrote detailing our first time experiencing Times Square:

Image

In case my writing is difficult to decipher, the general jist of the story is as follows:
Collectively, we gathered on the glowing red steps right in the middle of Times Square. A man, who clearly had feelings of bitterness towards tourists approached us yelling “get off my mother-fucking steps, mother-fuckers!”.

And here, I am, moments after it happened:
ImageMy greasy, untamed hair teamed with the sloppy gettup and baggy eyes make it clear that I just hopped off a very long flight.

It was a wonderful welcome-to-New York gesture. Really though, us being a bunch of teenage girls found it hilarious. From then onwards, a group of friends and I adopted ‘mother fucker’ as our noun of choice.

There’s no doubt about the fact that going on the tour changed my life. I’m yet to go back but my bedroom walls are scattered with New York postcards, maps and polaroid pictures taken in the Abercrombie & Fitch stores (nom nom shirtless models).

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