Today I flew into New York City. Before I even left Detroit though I had a celebrity sighting. I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure I saw a
WNBA basketball player. She was tall, had a tattoo, and was wearing a hot pair of kicks. Anyways, while on the plane I enjoyed peanuts in between extreme bouts of
turbulence's. It is amazing how clouds which look so calm and peaceful can toss around a plane like it's a leaf blowing in the wing. Unbelievably, we made it through what felt like a tornado and arrived at
LaGuardia around 3 PM, over half an hour early, leaving me with an entire day of exploration. After getting off the plane and following the directions towards baggage claim I see what appeared to be a nice Chinese man roughly 5' 6" holding a sign that reads, "
KATSARELAS." I approach the driver and we get off to a great start. For one, he has a funny accent, and two, he carried my bags even after I insisted I was quite capable of carrying them myself.
Once we get in the car I tell the driver, let's call him Ping, I want the crash course of New York City. Ping starts off by saying, "Well, if you're a party guy and enjoy smoking pot..." which then proceeded to cause an awkward silence and a frantic Ping to scramble in broken
english, "but you're not a party guy I can tell, but it's alright. The city is expensive. You have an internship, right? Good. Yeah, the city is expensive. You like table tennis? I watch it on television occasionally. I don't live in the city though, too expensive. I own this car. It's a Lincoln Town Car. Taxi drivers don't own their cars. I used to watch basketball but then M.J. retired. I saw a lady get hit by a taxi driver. Don't stand too close to the curb." Because Ping drove around 70 MPH on the 278, an expressway with a speed limit around 50, I was at the front steps of my building in about 10 minutes. After saying farewell, Ping scooted off and I checked into my new digs.
Apparently I'm a hybrid of a Greek and a Albanian because my last name is in the records as, "
Katjarelas." Note my I.D. card. It is kind of cool if you're into the smelly and hairy south eastern European thing. After signing in and becoming the newest resident of 1760 3rd Avenue nestled between
East Harlem and
Yorkville, I went to my room on the 6
th floor overlooking 3rd Avenue (view my
Flickr page for the pictures). The room isn't bad, plus I have digital cable, a flat screen television, a lounge with a stove and oven across the hall, a fitness center,
internet library, laundry facilities, my own bathroom, and am only a few blocks away from
Falafel Express, the coolest little Middle
Eastern
restaurant. After dinner, which was really cheap, $8.50, I dropped down around $40 on shampoo, soap, a toothbrush, and cereal. It was worth it though because how many times will I walk into a corner grocery store and see a obese man take out a stand of
Kashi crackers because the aisles weight and size limit were exceeded? Maybe never because that didn't happen, but it is completely plausible with how cramped these stores can get. They need to enforce size restrictions on their patrons.
Because I consistently forgot the side streets my building was located and generally how to get around at all without getting lost, I spent a good 30 minutes on
Google Maps trying to virtually familiarize myself with the city. From there I spent another 30 minutes researching the subway so I could figure out how to get myself to work and back. Throwing down another wad of cash on subway fare, I began my trek downtown to 51st and Lexington, a few blocks away from my office. Luckily the subway is easier than I thought, but finding a
Jamba Juice proved to be a little more difficult. My phone had already pointed me in the wrong direction twice, so I started searching. I asked people who looked like city slickers, "Do you know where
Jamba Juice is?" Nope. Nobody did. Twenty blocks later I found my coveted juice bar, but it was closed so I bought myself an apple. At least I snapped a few awesome skyline shots during the aimless wandering. After trudging back down the grimy stairs into the subway, I made my way back up town promising myself I will get
Jamba Juice soon.
But first I start my internship. 10 AM, Monday morning, 777 3rd Avenue-
Grey. I like to think of it like I'm a
moderately overweight person trying to shop in one of those tiny grocery stores or a someone who rides around in
rickshaw which just enchants white people. In other words, it is going to be interesting and I can't wait.
It's late, I'm tired, and ready for bed. Yet, I still can't believe the discovery I made only a few hours ago. I'm still asking myself in my mind if what just happened actually just happened. So it's 7 PM, I'm done with work, I hop on the subway, and make it back to my building where I decide I should start working out. Considering I finally made it to Jamba Juice and ordered a smoothie with one of their "Boosts of Protein" it would only make sense I utilize all the protein flowing through my veins. Does protein flow through veins? Check that, it flows through muscles. So anyways, I had all this extra protein flowing through my muscles, therefore I went to the gym in the basement of my building and pumped iron. After working out, taking a shower, and clothing myself I decided to explore nearby restaurants. Before I left I checked out Google Maps to see what direction I should take. While looking at nearby eateries I saw the name of a restaurant called Good Time. Except Good Time isn't like any normal restaurant. They serve Chinese and Mexican food. Quite possibly making the greatest find in my lifetime I scurried out my building speed walking like a slightly overweight middle aged woman to determine if Google Maps was toying with me.
After getting to the corner of 101st and Lexington, I found New York's secret gem. I was in ecstasy. A restaurant that serves Chinese and Mexican does, in fact, exist. I don't know why they are listed as Good Time on Google Maps or Yelp, because the sign read, "Forever Best" but I didn't care. I stepped in through the welcoming doors with more swagger and confidence than any man should have upon entering a restaurant. The smells of a Mexican fiesta and Chinese fireworks filled the air. I stared at the menu along the wall- do I order Chinese or Mexican, I asked myself. I couldn't decide. But with the help of the pictures posted next to each item on the menu I decided to go with the Mexican chicken and rice. It cost me less than $5 and I even got to sit near a real New York City Transit bus driver.
Check out what other restaurants I have frequented in NYC and how they rate by looking at the Yelp Map (to the right) with all my reviews. And, to see what life is like as an intern at one of the world's largest advertising agencies, Grey NY, check out the Grey Intern Blog or follow us on Twitter for breaking news from the intern table.
