image from CBSnews.com
Just as I'm getting down to the nitty-gritty planning of my move out West, a grim reminder that I'm truly a New Yorker at heart: A plane crashes into a hi-rise building in Manhattan, killing a Yankee pitcher, no less. I was at a doctor's appointment in a hospital complex when the news broke; ambulances streamed out of the hospital and down to 72nd Street - that's what prompted me to check the latest news on my mobile phone. Instant horror on a tiny screen. I'm sure I'm not the only person shaken by 9/11 flashbacks.
Of course we all remember exactly what we were doing when 9/11 occured - I believe it was the beginning of the end of my love relationship at the time. I stood frozen in front of the unfolding terror on TV while she went out for groceries and cash in anticipation of shortages. When she got back I said "I'm a New Yorker." She said "I really miss Seattle." She always said that she couldn't imagine me living anywhere but the Big Apple. But she was wrong. I would've moved anywhere to be with her. Now I'm moving for myself.
Yes, LA scares me - mostly because there are earthquakes and people who don't read the New York Times. I'm scared that I'll develop road rage and skin cancer. I'm terrified that I'll go nuts without my pets, girlfriend and family (not neccessarily in that order). I'm anxious about finding a car and a place to live. Until today, I feared that I'd lose my New York-iness. So, a trauma solidified my NYC credentials, but they were minted by the love of Broadway, the hum of the subway and the beautiful diversity of its inhabitants.
You can take the girl out of New york, but you can't take New York out of the girl. Westward-ho!
