I first really started telling this story when I went away to college. Being from the mysterious land known as the Midwest, I have had quite a few curious East Coasters ask me if I have ever visited New York City. I believe this question is truly just them trying to figure out if I have ever seen anything other than cornfields. After sharing this story with a few East Coast friends, I quickly came to realize that my version of typical first trip to the Big Apple greatly contrasted with their first visit with their sixth-grade class for a field trip. Apparently, taking the Staten Island ferry with “Lion King” and being chased by Mickey Mouse are not normal experiences to have when venturing to New York for the first time. So after some encouragement, I've decided now is the time to share my first trip to NYC with the world. So without further ado, here is part 1 of my first ever visit to New York City...

“Hey! You! I said tip, please!” The words echoed in my head and propelled me forward, as I dodged yet another group of hopelessly lost tourists. I could feel myself beginning to wheeze and the dull ache of my feet in my knee-high boots begged me to slow down. I dared to sneak a glance over my shoulder and I couldn’t help but wonder how my life had turned into a horrible comedy. Because there I was, in the heart of Times Square, being chased by a man dressed in a Mickey Mouse costume.

I never expected my first trip to New York City to end up the way it did. I don’t think anyone, for that matter, imagines being harassed by a life-sized version of a beloved childhood hero, but more on that later. The weekend getaway to New York was actually a present from my aunt for my 16^th birthday. I had received a call from her where she blasted Frank Sinatra’s classic song, “New York, New York”, and declared that at the end of January, my mother, she, and I were jetting off for a weekend getaway to experience the Big Apple. I was thrilled, to say the least, and immediately began counting down the days until I stepped foot in America’s greatest city.

Initially, the trip began exactly as planned. The flight went smoothly, the hotel was amazing, and everyone was in high spirits. My aunt had recently broken up with her boyfriend, but she showed little signs of emotional distress, and instead seemed eager for a distraction. That night, we had dinner reservations at the famous 21 Club before we went to see a Broadway show. As we walked into the restaurant, I was in awe of the decor, the antique toys suspended above our heads, glistening in the low lighting. Seemingly in a trance, I went to hand my winter jacket to the woman working the coat check, when suddenly I was snapped from my daydreams. Horrified, I slowly came to the realization that I was trapped in my own coat! Somehow, in my eagerness to go to dinner, I had zipped my scarf into my coat, rendering the zipper useless. There I was, during the Friday night dinner hour in one of Manhattan’s premier restaurants, having a large winter coat tugged over my head by both the coat lady and my mother as a dozen diners watched in amusement. Perhaps it was in that moment that I should have realized that my first trip to New York would be an experience like no other...