My New York City Experience Part 2

MY NEW YORK CITY EXPERIENCE: June 10, 2022

In the days leading up to my "move," I wasn't as excited as I thought I would be. In fact, I cried a lot. On November 12, 2018, I put my giant suitcase in the car and said bye to my family, which was so hard. My best friend Emily came over, too, and I just really felt sad. My "I'm going to conquer the world!" attitude was nowhere to be found.

I hit the road around 7:30 a.m. and made it to NYC by 3 p.m. I drove straight to my AirBnB, which was in a really nice part of Manhattan. I parked my car in the garage and met the host. The apartment was on the 6th floor of a walk-up. The man offered to carry my suitcase, but I don't think he realized it weighed legit 70 pounds. I had the whole place to myself, and it was itty bitty, but it was just what I needed for a few days.

That night, I checked out a few apartments on the Upper East (or West? I can't remember) Side. Look at these three apartments and how tiny they were...I'm literally standing against the wall taking these. This is it's entirety (minus a small bathroom) :

These studio apartments were around $2,000 a month. Not including a 15% broker fee. Not including amenities. Not including a deposit. The money I would be making at the SoHo House would baaaarely cover the rent. I could do it, but I also wouldn't be able to afford a life outside of my apartment whatsoever. I told myself, "This is what happens to everyone who moves to New York. You have to just rough it in the beginning." My friend that lived there took this picture of me that first night, because this was supposed to be my "I moved to NYC!" post on social media. You can see it in my face that I just don't look like someone confident in their choices.

I walked back to my AirBnB and, on the way, grabbed a can of Progresso chicken noodle soup (I imagined this would be all my meals for the foreseeable future). I heated the soup up, but couldn't even finish half of it. I was so upset -- feeling like I was making a huge mistake being here. I know I sound dramatic with this being the first night (who wouldn't feel homesick?!), but I had the nastiest pit in my stomach that this wasn't where I was supposed to be.

I woke up for my first day of work, and I looked terrible. I had bags under my eyes, I was pale, I had no appetite, and I had barely slept. But once I got to the SoHo House, I was distracted by all the onboarding, learning and soaking in new information. Everyone was really nice and came from all walks of life. But I won't lie: I stood out as the girl from Virginia. I was blonde, I had an accent (*according to them* but I don't hear one!), and I wore cozy sweaters. These other girls had jet black hair and dressed in...let's just say they weren't in cozy sweaters ;)

As soon as I got off work, I went to look at more apartments. But these were more expensive than the night before. To get an apartment in NYC, your annual salary has to be 40 times the monthly rent. If you can't do that (AKA me), you can have two guarantors who sign for you (i.e. parents). But their annual salary combined has to be 80 times the monthly rent. I was back and forth on the phone with my parents trying to get their bank statements, pay slips, etc. to the realtors I was working with. I know I was giving my poor mom and dad such gray hair.

That night, I decided to settle on one of the apartments from the night before. Key word: settle. I was on the wire to find a home, and this place was the least expensive, but it was the smallest with hardly any storage space, there was no AC/heat, and it was on the first floor with trash cans outside the barred windows (aka Rat City). When I reached out to the realtor, he told me someone had just signed papers an hour before. I was crushed. I had finally summoned the courage to pull the trigger, and it was unavailable. I didn't want the other apartments I had toured, but I didn't want to keep getting my hopes up looking at more apartments. Again, I get that this is part of the NYC experience, but I had the little voice in my head telling me this wasn't right.

Meanwhile, work was going great. I really enjoyed the atmosphere at the SoHo House -- it was so New Yorky and chic. Celebrities were popping in everyday, and I would find reasons to stroll by their tables and try to eavesdrop on conversations. I never talked to any of them, but I rode the elevator with Ludacris one night, so that's the closest I got! I especially loved this view of One World Trade Center from one of the windows:

My week was coming to a close, which meant so was my stay at the AirBnB. That Saturday morning, I left around 5 a.m. and walked to my car that had been parked in a garage all week (Hello, $250 parking fee!). My plan from the get-go was to drive home that weekend to pack up the rest of my life and U-Haul it up to NYC and move it into my *new* apartment. Joke's on me, because I was still sitting at Square One on the apartment hunt.

When I saw the mountains of Virginia, I was so excited (in a way I'd never been excited about them). My mom hosted an early Thanksgiving dinner for me, since it's my favorite holiday and I was going to be in NYC on the actual day. My heart was so full. But then Sunday rolled around, and I needed a plan of where the heck I was going to stay.

That Monday morning, my dad and stepmom carried me back up to NYC as I was in the back seat frantically looking for a roof over my head. The AirBnB I had been at was already booked, and everything else was slim pickins'. Anything that was available was Sketch City or very expensive. I finally found a good one and within minutes, (per usual) it was taken. If I couldn't find an AirBnB, hotels were the next option. I just needed some time to find an apartment...and fast because I was draining my savings. I booked a two-week stay at one hotel, and I lost the room because my card was having issues. It was as if God was literally screaming "Taylor! There is a reason it's not working out no matter what you try."

This was when I realized I had to make a decision about my future. I decided to listen to what God was saying, and it clicked that this wasn't where I was supposed to be. On top of not having an apartment, I could feel myself slipping into a depression. It seemed like I was crying more than I was eating. I was in the middle of learning a really tough lesson about growing up and making adult decisions before you're ready. I feel like God had brought me to New York, because I wasn't going to stop pursuing it until I lived it for myself. It's like I was trying to make a chocolate cake and was missing eggs and oil. I just couldn't make it work with my given circumstances. Still, I had to work the next day, and I didn't want to straight up bail on the job.

TO BE CONTINUED