Back in the good old days my college sweetie, now husband, would always find excuses for us to visit New York. My first time up he asked his parents to bring us and they agreed, bless thier hearts. We ended up visiting his family members in New Jersey and got a chance to walk around in Mid-town for the day. I was a sophmore in college my second time up. My sweetie meticulously planned every second of our trip. We visited each and every monument, landmark and museum. My husband and I would plan random trips to New York after we were done with being tourists. Sweetie proclaimed that one day he would move up. I told him good luck, and write me often. I was content in the land of black people, humid back yard parties, fish frys, ATL night-life. And I wasn't too thrilled about leaving my family behind. Oh, and I DON'T do the cold. Well, I gave in. Because, hell, I get bored easily and I wanted to shake things up.
Fast forward to last Feburary. A college friend got an awesome job offer in the city and her husband scored a job soon after. Knowing that we wanted to make the move up, they gracously offered up their floor and air matress in their cute Upper West Side apartment.
While still living in Atlanta, I looked for a job and hopped planes for a few weeks until I found work. It worked out awesome because hubby found work very soon after I did.
Not wanting to wear out my welcome at our friend's, we entered into subletting hell.
*Fade in Astoria*