I’m sitting here, it’s nearing one a.m., and I’m trying to finish a revision before I move to San Francisco in just three days. I’m surrounded by packed boxes, bubble wrap, blank-looking walls, odds and ends, and what looks like too much work to do in the time alloted. It will get done, though–it always does. I’m not worried about that. I not even worried about moving somewhere new with no definite job–or driving 10 hours a day for six days–or fitting two people’s lives into a Budget moving truck.
I’m not worried–but I will miss New York. And my last weekend here didn’t help with that. My wonderful friends–the same ones who’ve always supported my writing, who’ve helped me find jobs and finish bottles of wine, who’ve danced and picnicked and been generally far too silly with me for the last five years–threw me a surprise karaoke party. It began with a sake-soaked sushi dinner that led to a private karaoke room in midtown. We started with Mariah Carey and ended–I kid you not–with a group rendition of “Don’t Stop Believing.” My boyfriend jumped up with my best friend from high school’s older brother to belt out “Lady in Red.” My fellow North Carolina friends stood with me to indulge our country roots with “Friends in Low Places.” It was a dream of a night and one I’ll never forget.
Saturday was spent recovering and packing, eating pizza, and then heading to the Palace Hotel in Manhattan for the Gossip Girl series finale wrap party. It’s the show my boyfriend has worked on for six years, the same one that serendipitously stopped shooting for good the week we’d planned over a year ago to move. The Palace Hotel is a beautiful place (that’s one of the rooms in the photo above), the champagne was flowing, there was a PHOTO BOOTH, and my boyfriend had the chance to say goodbye to the crew he’s worked with day in and day out. Everyone wished us well, many expressed hints of jealousy, and most had one story or another of a winery or must-see locale in Northern California. When we’d had enough glitz for one evening, we took a taxi over the 59th street bridge into Queens and down into Brooklyn–the driver, who’d at first given us a hard time about going into Williamsburg, shared his strategies for getting the most customers in any given night (he likes to go against the crowd).
Sunday–in all its mild, sunny fall beauty–was spent taking the train over the Manhattan Bridge into Bay Ridge, having lunch with my boyfriend’s grandmother, and then heading to Staten Island to see the rest of his family. It was a day of amazing food and company, and we topped it off by driving by the new Brooklyn Nets stadium on the way home.
There’s a lot to love about this place–and it’s not just the glamour of New York (which is never as glamorous as it seems on TV, though the GG party did come close)–more than anything, it’s the people who somehow manage to make you feel at home in a city of 8 million. It’s them I’ll miss the most.