It would only be appropriate to start from New York, where I call home for now. It’s crowded, it’s dirty, people are rude, things are expensive, and there are a million other things wrong with this city. Yet every day boatload of people arrive and decide to call it home. I’m not above it all and I’m one of them.

Bittersweet little story on the side: the first time I came to NY was 2005 - I took a Greyhound out to city from Connecticut during my first month in the US with my then-fling and we were going to spend the weekend with our respective friends. We had been hanging out for a couple of days but neither even remotely thought about dating seriously. When we arrived in NY, we agreed to meet at bus station 3 days later and we parted ways. 3 days later, I went back to the bus station and realized it was a terrible mistake - we didn’t have cell phones then and the bus station was gigantic. For almost an hour, I dragged my bag from gate to gate hoping to run into him, until one of the security guards recognized my obvious distress and asked me if I needed help.

“I’m looking for my friend,” At that point I was ready to burst into tears. (I was 18, so gimme a break)

“That guy there? He’s been running around like a crazy person for the past hour.” The security guy pointed.

I turned around and he was there. He saw me, dropped his bag on the floor, grabbed my waist, and gave me the most passionate kiss I, even to date, have ever had.

Then the Greyhound workers around us started clapping. If we had our own background music it would have been something coming straight out of that airport scene in Love Actually.

Young love.

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