Firsts

First Night in the Big Apple

I plop down on my bed in our hotel room and cross my legs at the ankles. Julia pulls back the curtains and sits next to me, matching my posture. Below us, horns honk and pedestrians yell at one another. I smile, breathing in the New York air.

"We made it," Julia whispers. "What do we do now?"

"Time square?" I suggest. "We could try to find a cool restaurant near there for dinner."

"And maybe do some shopping?" she asks, looking hopeful. 

"I didn't bring a lot of money, but I'll go with you."

I can tell it's not quite the response she was looking for, but she still smiles and agrees. We end up deciding to ride the subway to the heart of New York City. We end up finding a cute little Italian place called Mercato. Our server, Marco, is super nice. I end up asking him what he recommends and Julia gets the chef's choice. The food is absolutely delicious and there is a surprising lack of customers, which is nice. 

After dinner, Julia goes into a wide variety of shops, including a very sketchy thrift shop, but the majority of our time is spent in clothing departments. I talk her into going into a Willy Wonka candy shop for some dessert, but other than the five dollars I spend there, I don't buy anything. Julia, however, ends up with about six different large shopping bags that I know I'm going to have to help carry. 

We're about to head back to the subway when she spots a jacket in a shop window. I try to convince her that she doesn't need it, but no use. She is absolutely in love with the jacket.

"Besides," she says as we enter, pink is my color. 

That's when I see a black leather jacket sitting on a clearance rack, and I know, I was meant to wear that jacket. Julia turns to see what I'm staring at, and I can see that she knows it, too. 

"That's your jacket," she breaths. 

I nod as she gives a high pitched squeal and pulls it off the hanging, practically shoving it at me. I shrug my jacket on. The inside is plush and molds against my shoulders.

"It's perfect!" Julia says instantly. "You practically have to get it." 

"Well," I hesitate. "Ok. I guess one jacket would hurt. I mean, it was on the clearance rack." 

In the end, it rings up to only thirty five bucks, and Julia assures me that I was lucky because most jackets like that go for three hundred easily. 

The salesgirl overhears us and says, "That's because all the clearance items are used. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," I answer, more bothered by the fact that someone would give up a jacket like this than the fact that someone else has worn it. 

In the end, Julia ends up spending about three hundred bucks on clothes. I look at her shaking arms loaded with shopping bags and can't help but laugh.

"Maybe we should get a cab for the way back. I don't know if they'll let us bring all this stuff on the subway."

She agrees, and we head out of the store, Julia stumbling a few times under the weight of her purchases.  By the time we get to the curb, my cheeks hurt from laughing at her. She glares at me and sets her stuff down, once again quickly hailing a cab. After about a ten minute drive, we arrive in front of our hotel. 

"Now comes the tricky part. Getting your clothes up to our room," I tease. 

She smacks my arm, suppressing a grin and almost dropping half of her bags in the process. 

"I didn't even get that much," she says as she hobbles inside.

I raise my eyebrows, asking, "Oh, really? Then you open the elevator."

Her face becomes hard set with determination as she promptly lifts her leg into the air and presses the button with her foot. The doors open immediately, and she stumbles in and smirks at me. 

"I'm impressed," I say, and I really am. "You're much more flexible than I am."

"Thanks," she answers. "But I'm not pressing the floor button."

After hauling her things into the room, Julia collapses on the bed, looking as exhausted as I feel. I shrug of my new jacket, and something falls to the floor. I pick up what appears to be a brochure. It reads Hamilton College on the front. 

"What's that?" Julia asks.

"A brochure for a liberal arts college," I answer, scrutinizing the piece of paper. 

"I'm gonna google it," Julia says, pulling out her laptop. A minute later, she begins to read:

"Hamilton's Promise- There is no one Hamilton student, just as there is no one Hamilton experience, but the promise we make to all our students is the same: At Hamilton, you can study what interests you, be accepted for who you are and what you believe, and prepare to be the person you were meant to become."

"Is this one of the colleges we were looking at?"

"I don't think so," she says. "We were planning on checking out Barnard, Marymount Manhattan, and Manhattan. Where is this place?"

"It's in Clinton, New York."

Julia begins to furiously type again. Her face falls.

"That's almost five hours away from the city!" she exclaims. 

"We could always move to the city after college," I suggest. 

As I flip through the brochure, I start to like this college more and more. Julia, however, doesn't look convinced. I decide to try to use clothes to explain it. 

"You know how perfect that jacket looks on me?" She nods. "Well, this is like the college version of that jacket. I think it'll be a really good fit for me, and possibly you. I still think we should check out the other colleges, but I really like this one, and I'm gonna apply there."

"Whatever makes you happy," Julia says. "But I would still like to tour the rest of the colleges."

"Of course!" 

I smile, and on that note, we get ready for bed. Not even five minutes after my head hits the pillow, I'm asleep.