Open-mindedly thinking about New York, thousands of reasons come to mind and the thought of leaving this place was never one. Several permeated my mind as the picturesque scenes of Central Park flooded with newly engaged couples, the lush Oak trees complementing the concrete sidewalks, the smells of roasted chestnuts while walking through a sea of suited men, and rooftop views of the sun setting on the Hudson River.
But I also reflected on personal as well. I grew up in Fort Salonga, so the city was embedded in me whether I liked it or not. The journey I embarked on to Omaha, Nebraska to continue my education made me realize it was time to expand my horizons even though I never thought this amazing city would have an expiration date for me.
Almost daily, my parents would take us to see a new exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum, see a new Broadway play, or go out to eat at our favorite restaurant, La Campognola. My father would come home from his Manhattan job every night while smelling like New York’s finest coffee, Dunkin Donuts, and bearing gifts from one of the million little shops adjacent to Wall Street.
I adore New York City from its concrete gum-filled streets, its capaciousness, its relentless pulsation to its thrilling magnetism.
New York can seem cold and aloof, as though you could pass out in the middle of the street and everyone would just walk around you and continue with their day. Even though having tripped, and almost getting hit by a taxi multiple times, however, I have always been approached by at least one person to make sure I was okay. Even though I knew New York did not have a stone cold heart, I realized it was time to leave this concrete jungle.
The day I chose to leave New York for Nebraska to fulfill my dream of becoming an orthodontist is still one of my most vivid memories today, along with the comments I received with this decision.
“Nebraska...Danielle, really?”
“Go have fun with the farms and cows.”
“Do you even know where Nebraska is on a map?”
These are only some of the questions I was repeatedly asked every day from my friends, family, and even favorite food truck operators, until the day I packed my bags, boarded my plane and took off.
It was the exact moment I was walking on the crowded Fifth Avenue and heard the screeches of a businessmen yelling at food truck operators to make their food faster, when it finally clicked.
Yes, I was blessed with having New York City as casual scenery for my Instagram's, Facebook pictures, and Snapchats but it was time get out of the bubble I was content with and used to.
I always knew I wanted to go to school to become an orthodontist, but I was unsure of the road I would take to get to my destination.
But I knew what the famous song said, “if you make it in New York, you can make it anywhere,” so I decided to take that risk.
Little did I know that 24th Street and California Plaza was a place I would eventually call home, even if it happened to be 1,300 miles away.
On my way to Accepted Student’s Day, I remember looking outside my little 9” by 12” airplane window when the flight attendant made the announcement that we were twenty minutes away from Omaha, and I only saw farms and grass, no oceans, and some more farms. I kept thinking to myself, “Oh no Danielle, what did you get yourself into?”
A few weeks into my freshman year, three years ago, meeting new, mostly Midwestern friends presented me with the realization of how the “New York Attitude” was a real disease. I had to take a couple of steps back that year and wonder what the point of snapping at the airport security guard was for making me throw out my Dolce and Gabbana Light Blue, and Dior Miss Dior: Extrait de Parfum because it wasn’t under the 3 oz. liquid limit, and sneering at my roommate because she was wearing Crocs to class.
I became acutely conscious of the rude or inconsiderate behavior “New Yorker’s” genetically have, but became more cooperative as a result. I always forgot that the Midwestern people that I have met, did not understand the code of urban living, nor how to approach it.
I can tell that part of my accent has been lost, even though there are certain words that I still physically cannot pronounce correctly, that will always stick with me forever.
New Yawk, cawfee, drawah, watah and dawg are only some of the words that specifically stand out in conversations. And while I carry on these conversations, I can verbally hear how much I have matured when deciding to come to a college so far away from home.
Coming from such a hectic, never-sleeping city, it is actually refreshing to be in a place that appreciates the little things in life.
All of the professors, students, and faculty I have been in contact here have never been anything but genuine, which was a complete culture shock for me. I have seen myself develop into a very independent person, which comes from having to deal with plane cancellations right before break and asking a professor for help before an exam. I do not think I could have become the person I wanted to always be without this change of lifestyle.
As much as my friends from home comment on going to college in a “random” state, I always knew deep down it was for the best and the only way to start my “perpetual journey,” like Walt Whitman did.
I am transported to a place of nostalgia when I remember the feel on the NYC streets, just so many people walking and talking and conducting their daily lives in the shared, crowded, overflowing sidewalks. I miss the aggressiveness of the pedestrians. They will run through red lights and walk right into the road regardless on what the traffic light is flashing.
It seems that here in Nebraska people only know how to drive, talk, eat, and walk slowly, but then again they're not in a rush like New Yorkers always are.
During Christmas time, I miss walking down Fifth Avenue looking into the windows of the biggest designer stores, the celebrity sightings, scenic rooftop bars, shopping in SoHo, running around aimlessly trying to find a cab at 3 AM with my friends, and getting annoyed at the tourists. And of course, the smell of pizza brings me to a place that I remember as heaven.
The college transition from such a big city to a “home-y” city like Omaha, where people hold doors for you, complete strangers make conversation with you in an elevator, and no one honks while you cross the street, was not as horrific as everyone thought it out to be.
Along with being proud of myself to making such a huge decision so young, I believe Walt Whitman would be proud as well, whereas I have “anchored my ship for a little while” in a place that is not my real home.
Leaving New York at the age of eighteen is not something I did in spite, but to endure the liberating experience that only come so often.
It was John Updike who once said, “The true New Yorker secretly believes that people living anywhere else have to be, in some sense, kidding,” but I think he never experienced living elsewhere himself.
I do not carry my New York driver’s license as a badge of honor trying to prove that I am better than everyone else here in Nebraska; it is my reminder of where that little piece of home is when I am missing the loud hustle and bustle late at night, which I like to describe it as music to my ears. Even though Chanel, Louis Vuitton and Céline stores are not on every corner, I have planted my anchor on 24th Street and California Plaza, my new Fifth Avenue.
