Last week, I recounted part one of my first ever trip to New York City. (I would highly suggest reading it if you haven't already!) If you thought that was ridiculous, this week's tale far outdoes it. I would like you to keep in mind that this story is 100% true and yes, I am pretty sure my life is a tragic comedy movie. Here's part 2 for you:

Gratefully, the rest of dinner, the musical, and remainder of the night went well. The food was fabulous, the show spectacular, and the city lights of New York were truly breathtaking. The next morning, the three of us decided that in order for me to truly experience New York City, I needed to see the Statue of Liberty. But instead of doing a guided tour like most tourists would do, we concluded that in order to save both time and money, the Staten Island Ferry was our best option to see Lady Liberty. As we approached the dock, our nostrils were immediately assaulted with the worst smell known to mankind. It was as if a dirty diaper, vomit, and rotten garbage had converged into a super stench. With watering eyes, my aunt, who at this point was beginning to show the emotional signs of a broken-hearted woman, vehemently declared for the whole waiting area to hear, “what the f--- is that smell?”

At the same time as her declaration, my mom and I quickly scanned the room and realized that there was a reason most tourists chose not to see Lady Liberty via the Staten Island Ferry. Instead of eager families with disposable cameras, the majority of the people waiting at the dock appeared to be weary workers accompanied by several shifty vagrants. And the only available seats in the crowd were next to a large man, wrapped in a tiger striped blanket, who, we unfortunately discovered, was the source of the putrid odor. My dear aunt, in a way only she can, chose in that moment to proclaim that, “There is no way I am sitting next to f------ lion king with his shitty smelling cape!” As quickly and as quietly as we possibly could, my mom and I ushered my aunt, who was wearing a giant black mink coat accessorized by her favorite Birkin bag and matching fur hat, onto the ferry and attempted to calm her down.

After we finally left the island of Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty began to appear from the fog, my mom snuck outside for a picture, leaving me to marvel at the sight with my aunt. I turned my head to my fur clad aunt, ready to comment on the beauty of the statue, only to find her sobbing. Through tears, she explained that her ex-boyfriend was an immigrant and the Statue of Liberty reminded her of him and their relationship. As I attempted to console her without bringing any more unwanted attention to ourselves, I couldn’t help but wish we had chosen to be normal tourists who had stayed in Times Square...