January 2nd, 2010: my hunt for a summer internship began. One hundred and fourteen cover letters, eight months, and twelve weeks in NYC later, I’m proud to announce I finished everything I set out to do (and more). Mission complete. Sweet success. Flawless victory.
I’ve been asked a lot why I decided to do this. Unsurprisingly, the answer’s not far removed from the reason men do most things -- a girl, of course. Not to impress this particular girl, though, but rather because I was jealous of the NYC internship she’d scored the summer before. Her stories of Manhattan adventures, white collar coteries, and ridiculous fun inoculated a little voice in my brain that whispered “if she can do it, why can’t I?”.
That’s a question I ask myself a lot. Jealously ignites a fire in my gut, and if someone else has something I want, then it’s time to kick ambition into high gear until I get it. If that sounds selfish, it’s because it is. It's not schadenfreude –- it’s just my belief that people should do whatever they want to do if they’re willing to put in the effort. Win-win for everyone.
So last we left off, I had just moved out of my apartment to a hostel in Times Square. ‘Twas my first time in a hostel -– all I had to do was survive six nights with a roommate who, hopefully, wouldn't be a crazed serial killer bent on lurid murder.
Well, no worries there. My bunk buddy was a high school biology teacher from the UK: his cockney accent, plump waist, and fuzzy feet made him about as threatening as a hobbit. I didn’t see a lot of him because I was still working 9 - 5, but we did have good chats every night before bed -- like kids do at sleepovers, really, but instead of rating girls or laughing over words like ‘shart’ and ‘uranus’, we delved into deeper discussions on politics, history, and culture. It was odd, philosophizing with this complete stranger on topics like 9/11, the English monarchy, oil sands, and Baptist churches, but, oi, why not?
Those last six days at the hostel were bittersweet. I wasn’t a fan of living out of a suitcase, but very much enjoyed meeting folks from Ireland, France, Australia, and Israel. They were all terrific (except for the kiwi who made us watch Ghosts of Girlfriends Past – that movie is atrocious, what was he thinking?).
Back at McGraw-Hill, it was time to say goodbye. The coworkers took me out for lunch in Korea Town, and, at 5:00 on Friday the 13th (coincidence?), I took the elevator down from the 21st floor and walked away from Penn Plaza for the last time. Sigh. I’ll miss those guys.
So that’s that. I’m penning the end to this episode in the La Guardia airport, about to hop the plane home. It seems like just last week when I arrived, all wide-eyed and eager and stuffed with first-class breakfast. Now I’m heading back in Cabin Y, the caboose of crammed economy, on Air Canada’s rickety little jazz craft. Good Lord, how could my aristocracy crumble like this? What has flying come to?
But in all seriousness...
Twelve weeks ago, I ended my first blog post in New York with the sentence: “this is a story where even the author doesn’t know what happens next”. Now that the tale’s been told, I look back with bloody amazement: from picnicking in Central Park to taking pictures on top of the Empire State Building; from sailing past the Statue of Liberty to touring Saturday Night Live soundstages in Rockefeller Center. I met dozens of celebrities, saw seventeen Broadway productions, laughed with Letterman at the Late Show, sat front row mezzanine at Radio City Music Hall, ate two scrumptious meals at two dinner show cabarets, munched lunch with my CEO, ooo’d and aahhh’d at 4th of July fireworks, walked the boardwalk at Coney Island, acted in an MTV show, AND met great new friends who best keep in touch or else. Elise, Casie, Jon-Jon, Jocelyn, Kirk, Maria, Prerna, Robyn, Erica, Angela, Alex, Stephen, Matt, Michelle, Peter, Andrew, George, Sam, Benjamin -- thanks for all the fun!
In retrospect, if living in New York has taught me anything –- if I can draw any themes from my own story, they would be these:
1. Value people over places, and
2. Success doesn’t rub off.
Of course I loved Manhattan, but the best parts of the summer didn’t come from just being there; they came from making those new friends I mentioned and taking on the city together. Point two is pretty simple: being around celebrities doesn't make you one. I’ve gotta work my butt off to earn my way back to the big city, and while publishing was a great industry to dip my toes in, I’m still eager to try out show biz...
Let's address that show biz thought for a second: could I settle into a comfortable suburban life after graduation? Sure. But do I want to? Not yet. There's still too much out there I haven't explored.
Take Penn Plaza's elevator as a metaphor.
At the NYC office where I worked, McGraw-Hill only occupied a few of the mid-range floors. During the 9:00 and 5:00 rushes, the elevator car would inevitably stop on every single level. One particular hall that would pass by was Madison Square Garden’s office area. The doors would glide open and reveal a sign in solid gold letters that read: “Madison Square Garden: Where Legends are Made”. All summer I rode that elevator up and down, watching people get on/off that floor, and I’d read the sign -- Where Legends Are Made -- right before the doors would slam shut in my nose. I always wished I could get off there. You know, walk in and ask reception “Excuse me, but your sign outside says you make legends. Could you book me an appointment? I’d very much like to dive into the entertainment world and be an instant hero without all that hassle of hard work and such.”
Alas, if only...
I’m back on the prairie now, far away from the towering NY skyline in a land where people know what “supper”, “washrooms”, and “bunnyhugs” are, distanced again from the throbbing entertainment industry and rushing New York pulse. It’ll be tough going back to school for another year, but with only two terms left I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Where that tunnel goes, who knows. But if you’re keen on finding out, keep checking this blog -- just because the New York chapter is finished doesn’t mean the story’s over yet. Trust me.
Thanks again to all the Americans who were so welcoming. Contrary to international belief, you're not all ignorant, bull-headed, selfish fatties with a shitty economy. You're funny, friendly, and hard working people with a shitty economy. It was a pleasure being with you -- come up and visit any time.
Long live the Queen, God bless America.
- Devon
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