There was a solid ten minutes during which time I did not know what state I was in: Maryland, Delaware, or Pennsylvania. But when it was finally sorted out, we were in a Villanova college-town bar full of dim lighting and dark woods, windows of etched glass.
And I’ve already been dubbed “the organized one” because I go reaching for a binder any time someone starts giving me business cards or tells me their name. I guess it’s my way. The hardest thing for me about this trip is going to be finding my own personal creative style. Maybe it means fighting my natural inclination toward practicality and all that.
New York scares me a little and I’m more than happy to delay it. It’s huge and full of people doing what we are and places for them to do it, but not full of very many parking spaces. New York just scares me in general. The first time I went there with Jayson, on the way back into the tunnel to head home there was a disheveled, but not homeless-looking, man walking the yellow line as the two lanes of cars made their way slowly into the tunnel mouth. He was carrying a cardboard sign scrawled with, “I CAN’T RELAX!” on it.
So New York scares me. Yay for little Pennsylvania college town bars.
