I’m moving to New York tomorrow. I start with that simple statement because as I write this I’ll keep looking at it and hopefully it’ll finally sink in that it’s actually happening. It’s been months (or what feels like months) of paperwork and documents and visa shenanigans and emails and calls with my HR department to arrange everything and it’s always felt like, “Oh, it’s ages away yet. I’ll just carry on as normal and obediently fill out forms as required.” And even this morning I woke up and watched several episodes of Malcolm in the Middle (I’m so current) when I should have been packing.
But now it’s finally happening. I have my visa and paperwork, I have my accommodation ready and waiting, I have my transport from the airport organised. In 24 hours I’ll be in my temporary apartment in Manhattan, hopefully with all my luggage, hopefully having eaten a few slices of pizza or a hotdog from a food stand, and hopefully without having heard the phrase “I could care less”.
I don’t have anything in the way of plans for when I get there. Some people I’m sure would have lists prepared months in advance: of restaurants they want to eat at, tourist sights and museums to visit, a checklist of things they need to do when they arrive and when they’ll have time to do them. But I’ll take it as it comes and do things as and when I feel like it. That said, I should probably figure out my medical insurance before I accidentally wander into Harlem and get shot in the head.
I’ll admit I’m more than a little scared, and not just of gun-toting maniacs. I’ve never lived in a big city before, let alone one as complex as New York; I’ve never really dealt with landlords and letting agencies before, not even in England; and I’ve heard New York is powered by coffee, which I hate. I’ll never fit in! There’s so much that could go wrong. What if I hate being surrounded by so many people all the time? What if I hate my new work colleagues? What if I try and buy a bed from someone on Craigslist and I end up being chopped into pieces and tossed into the Hudson?
But on the other hand, what if I turned down the chance to move to New York? I’d regret it forever. This could be the best thing to ever happen to me and if I do really hate it I can always crawl home and say, “The world is a bad place, mummy. Can I have my old room back please? I promise I’ll keep it tidy this time. By the way, if I do chores can I have some pocket money?”
Apologies to those looking for more travel stories and less glorified Facebook status updates, but check back soon for a hilarious account of my recent visit to Chernobyl, site of the worst nuclear disaster in history. That was a laugh a minute experience!