I have grown up always knowing that east was where the mountains were, therefore, I could (almost) never get lost. In the last three days I have been yearning for those mountains so I could pretend to have some sense of direction. I have none.
My first day coming back from work I took the 1 express down. All of a sudden everyone is getting off and they are announcing that if you want to get off at South Ferry you MUST be in the first five cars. I don’t want to go to South Ferry. 40 minutes later I am still walking around, hoping somebody will notice this lost looking person walking and turning on the same street – nobody does, and I’m too stubborn at this point to ask for help, I can do this damn it!
Day two I get off at the 9/11 Memorial. I think, “I’m home early, I’ll go see Ground Zero then just walk home”. So wrong. Almost 45minutes go by and my husband calls to make sure I’ll be home. He left his keys at the office. I inform him that he may just have to come find me and then we can both go home together. He chuckles, reminding me that I told him I was on my way home at least an hour ago. Thanks for rubbing it in, I feel slightly more inept now, ugh.
Today I head out feeling confident. I now know I have to transfer from the 1 to the 2 or 3 to ensure I get to Wall St. I know that the Kilarny Pub is just two right turns from where I get the subway. All I have to do is get off the subway at Wall St. and I’m safe, right? Haha don’t make me laugh. I am talented enough to walk out a completely different area than where I entered. Why can’t the Wall St. stop just come out on Wall St. only!? I am proud to say that it did only take me 15 minutes this time – and only one frustrated phone call to my husband. I’m getting better!
Wall St. is very neat for many things. The Bull the Bear, more suits than you will ever see in your life (and at all hours of the day too – who goes to a bar at 10:30 with their suit still on, briefcase still in hand!?). You can almost feel the power pushing on the doors. The flags almost seem to fly a little stronger, a little harder – they know they are somewhere important. But Wall St. you are horrible at giving me a sense of direction. No grid, no numbers, just a million streets, all getting smaller and smaller as you reach the tip of the island at Battery Park.
Now you may say, ‘you have a smart phone Chelsea, use it’s smarts’. This is true, and I have used it. But when Siri tells me to go north on Pearl St. I turn in a circle and realize I don’t know which way is north. I must also admit my stubbornness here and say that I want to think I can find it on my own. Foolish in this smart technology age? Probably.
I huff down on our couch, venting to my husband about how I have decided I really don’t like this area and all it’s confusion. ‘Did you know the two bodies of water used to be referred to simply as the East and West Rivers?’ I gripe. Too bad from the middle of Manhattan (at least in the Financial District) there appears to be only towering mountains of metal. He just smiles and tells me I’ll dominate it come Monday.
I knew I would miss home, but who would think the first reason I would miss those mountains was because they provided me with my ‘internal compass’?
Bring it on Monday. Bring. It. On.