I'm at the halfway point of my summer internship, and I switched departments this past week. I now work in Midtown Manhattan - about 10 blocks south of the place I worked last summer. Ah, last summer. The world's most boring job, made bearable only by the great people I worked with.
Stepping outside yesterday for lunch, I decided to make the trek 12 blocks north to the cart Adam had introduced me to last year on one of our 15-minute lunch breaks. In a Midtown full of overpriced lunch places selling mediocre food ($9 for a sandwich? Are you serious?), the carts are a godsend. Little portable restaurants, many of them have "dibs" on a certain corner and develop a real following. "My" cart, on the corner of 45th and 6th, always has a line at least a half dozen people long. The owner used to work at The Russian Tea Room, and makes amazing Middle Eastern-style food.
As I stepped into the line yesterday I felt as if I was back in a familiar place. New York is still something of a mystery to me, and I often feel the whole "stranger in a strange land" thing. Jersey, Brooklyn, Manhattan... I don't actually belong to any of these places. They've all let me in for a peek, but the golden gates to the fields of acceptance have yet to be flung open. My school/work/housing situation has also been one of regular change. Graduate school has been a time of transition for me, where I try out different situations and work towards that final goal of (semi) permanence. I love it - it has allowed me to collect a number of really interesting experiences. At the same time though, it can be unsettling.
Standing in line at the cart then, felt good. I used to come here all the time. I know this tiny patch of sidewalk. I can claim it as my own.
"Have you been here before?" a woman with a heavy New York accent asked me. She showed me a blurb she had clipped out of a magazine. "Time Out New York says this cart is really good."
"Yes, it's definitely good, " I replied. "Make sure to get extra white sauce. That stuff is the best."
2 comments:
I didn't even feel like Madison was "mine" until I got toward the end of college.
You're a New Yorker! And that's an intimidating culture to assimilate with. I just went dipnetting on the Kenai this weekend for the first time and feel one big step closer to being Alaskan. Six years later...
-Laura (still have to update my blog and google account)
Post a Comment