Nothing is ever easy

I’ve been in New York City since Sunday night and already I think I’m starting to get the hang of things. Here are some reasons I feel like I’ve been somewhat initiated:
I saw TWO rats scurrying along the subway tracks at my local station
I saw a redheaded, Hispanic transvestite down the street
I mastered the express train in two directions
I am 99% sure I saw a prostitute on my block.

Yesterday after spending a couple days duking it out with my Ikea furniture, I decided to wander all over town and even made it down to the gym for a quick jog. The sad news is that I got lost….in the gym. I had no idea such a small space could be so confusing, but after I swiped my card, there were staircases going up two floors and down one floor and people everywhere. I asked around to find the locker room and after putting my things in a locker, I wandered around, doe-eyed as if I’d never seen exercise equipment before.

For the most part, I’ve settled in. My furniture is in place in my pint-sized room, my pictures are on the wall, I found a grocery store and know how to get to the subway. That being said, small problems arise.

Yesterday I had the simple task of picking up my loan check at the University so that I could in turn deposit said check into a new checking account. I had researched online and found that Commerce Bank has no fees for a basic checking account, it’s located 2 blocks from my apartment, and Regis and Kelly are the spokespeople. I was sold.

I looked online to figure out where the financial aid building was. 116th and Amsterdam, a mere 7 blocks from my apartment. It took my literally 45 minutes to find the place. 7 minutes to walk to the general vicinity and another 38 to wander around, get lost, get more lost, ask 2 people and finally walk in the front door. To my credit, there was construction, so there were a lot of detour signs, but still. I was frustrated to say the least.

I had received an email telling me to go to Kent Hall, room 208. I walked up and down the one corridor in Kent Hall and found rooms 206, 210 and 205 (in that order), but no 208. I asked 4 people and one of them knew what I was talking about, directed me to the room and when I went in, they directed me back to room 210, which contained the cashier who would authorize my check. After I received my check, the woman told me to go to room 205 to sign my Master Promissory Note. I went to 205, waited in line for 10 minutes and when I told them what I needed, they replied, “oh no. You can’t do that here. You have to go to your school’s financial aid office.”

So far, Columbia seems like a really organized place.

After the check debacle, I decided to take my money directly over to the bank so that I didn’t lose the biggest check I’ve ever seen in my life. I went into Commerce Bank, told the woman at the front door that I needed to open a checking account. She asked me if I had an I.D. Yes. She then asked me if I had proof of NYC address. Er. Um. Well, no. So I just decided to walk home with a big check and a heavy heart.

I told my roommate about the incident and she excitedly yelped, “Oh hey! Yes, look!” She handed me our lease that had just arrived in the mail. With a renewed sense of confidence, I walked down the street to Commerce Bank and sat for 15 minutes waiting to talk to a customer service representative. When I sat down, I handed over my I.D. and my lease.

“Oh….hmmm.” He looked at the lease and shook his head. “Are you a Columbia student?” I admitted that I was and he said, “well then, let me see your Columbia Student I.D.”I informed him that I would not be receiving my identification card until Friday and he relayed some bad news: leases aren’t proof of address. Strange, I know. However, they cut Columbia students some slack with the lease if they can produce their I.D. cards. So I once again left Commerce Bank with my check in hand.

After that, I decided to take the express train down to 14th Street and wander around Union Square. There were people everywhere. I saw two people sitting on a park bench chatting, right next to a man playing the saxophone who was next to a man with a tower of dreadlocks selling hemp necklaces. None of them even noticed that there were other people beside them; they were all in their own worlds. It was strangely consoling and reminded me a lot of yoga class. When I first started out, I was so self-conscious that everyone was watching me while I strained to get into the pretzel-like positions. After a few classes though, I realized that everyone was so caught up in their own practice that they didn’t have the time or the interest to watch other people.

In new York I could get lost all day long and feel like an idiot, but most likely no one would notice. I’m just some anonymous redhead trying to make my way through the streets like everyone else. And just like that, I felt like I might one day get used to this.


The room is cute.....









...Just don't open the closet: