"Do I need a ticket, the guy at the door is saying I need a ticket?"
"No, we have a reservation, this one isn't ticketed. You're at the bar on 35th right near Penn Station, right?"
"I went to the Grand Central one... not Penn Station... I'll be there soon."
A rookie move, especially for someone who's lived here for five years. But the two are closer than most people realize, and I didn't mind the walk.
A fall Saturday, and Midtown is starting to get ready for Christmas. Walking past Bryant Park, the market stalls are being set up. Soon they'd be selling ornaments, hot chocolate, and things you probably don't need.
I wasn't in a rush. The air had finally cooled enough to make walking feel like something worth doing for its own sake.
Looking up at the buildings, it made me think about my first year in New York, when I made that sort of mistake all the time.
I was twenty-six, but it felt a little like the first year of high school or college. I was learning where things were, trying to make friends, and hoping I'd eventually look like I knew what I was doing.
I used to brag about living near a Joe Coffee. I thought it was the only one in the city.
Every bar felt like a discovery. Every club was somewhere worth going at least once. I hadn't learned which places were considered cliché or which ones people would make fun of you for liking (nor had I learned not to care if they did).
If I had a good time somewhere, that was enough.
The streets were still a maze. I'd come out of the subway and walk a block before realizing I was going in the wrong direction. Stores I'd never heard of became places I wanted to go inside, even when I had no reason to buy anything.
Mostly, it was me and the other transplants, all of us trying to find our way from whichever suburb we'd come from.
I remember how exciting it was. I also remember being lonely, and wondering whether moving here had been a good idea. Sometimes those feelings fit into the same afternoon. Sometimes they still come back up.
I didn't know if I'd last a year.
Five years later, I rarely need to take out my phone to find my way. I have my spots. I have friends who live close enough to meet for a drink and places where I know what I'm going to order before I sit down. Not long enough to call myself a local, but long enough to feel comfortable.
I'm glad the city feels familiar now. Though I miss how much I used to notice.
Each fall, some of that comes back. The air gets crisp, the leaves start changing, and the days get shorter. I find myself taking longer walks, looking into store windows, and stopping to watch a Christmas market come together even though I've seen it before.
By the time I reached Penn Station, I was smiling. For a little while, the walk had felt like my first year here.
I made it just in time for kickoff.