Worth Waiting For

August 19, 2013 by  
Filed under Pixie's Globe


England IMG_0540

It doesn’t feel like two minutes since I was saying goodbye to my two best friends in Middlesbrough while they stuck Wallace & Gromit stickers to my ass. Or since I ate a salad tower and an espresso in the North of England with my family and my long lost brother. Nor does it feel like a few days ago that I was having gossip and puddings with my childhood best friend or watching hilariously rubbish horror movies with my parents. I’m now sitting in Heathrow, my gut full of pre-travel shakes and the feeling of knowing I won’t see my nearest and dearest for a very long time… and wondering if things will change.

I don’t really know what I’m thinking if I’m honest, it’s 4.30am and I’ve spent the last five hours on a National Express with a small child vomming behind me. It can’t be good for the soul.

But I do know that I’ve been waiting for this trip forever. Or for twenty-three-and-a-half years at least. Whether I was aware of it at the time  or not.

I’ve been writing for a very long time. When I was in lower school, I wrote accounts of school trips to France. When I was in middle school, I wrote fantasy stories about dragons and Japanese warriors. When I was in high school… I started a personal diary. Since leaving school, I’ve swayed between romantic fiction, travel and hardcore journalism. My fingers never tire of the way my laptop keys feel when I type. I still get excited when I buy stationary from Pound Land. My mum still yawns when I spend hours in discount book shops.

So last year, while I was sitting in my teeny tiny student room in Leeds (I was working my way into uni), I promised myself I’d be in New York by 2013. I had black and white maps of the city Blue Tacked to the headboard of my bed. Alas, here I am,  figuring out subway routes and reservations with a great want for Costa’s Finest… and a great need to get the visions of the small vomming child out of my head.

I learnt a great lesson from this. No matter how much you suck at things, determination and passion get you to where you want to be.

I’m feeling very outer body at the moment.  My small on-the-side hobby of taking photographs has somehow bagged me a two and a half month media position in the faraway abode of Burlingham. (Burlingham is a small city in New York State. I didn’t know either). I mean, I don’t even own an SLR.

One of my instant reactions upon being offered this position was, `There are thousands of people who deserve this more than I do!`, which was quickly followed by `That is exactly why I need to prove I am among one of those thousands`.

My great want of Costa’s finest was mildly fulfilled by Caffè Nero.

And then I got on the plane.



Aside from the hideous air con/nerve sweats combo I had going on, my flight was pretty painless. Hot Pockets and no turbulence? What more could you ask for?

It was a bit manic when I left JFK, though- the Airtrain and subways were uberly intimidating (I sought help from a New Yorker three times my height and I sat next to some dude rapping about candy).

I finally found West 88th Street some hours later- and I couldn’t wait to get rid of my luggage! I checked into the International Student Center in Upper Manhattan straight away (which was pretty decent considering I only paid $35 to stay in the pretty part of New York!) That said, my head was thumping, I felt disorientated and the drop from my bunk bed to the street made me consider an unconscious death wish.

I put some MAC on, drank loads of water and popped some Panadol before walking two blocks to a sanctuary on the corner (better known as Starbucks), which was surrounded by bushy trees, crossings and cabs, aww!IMG_0522

I ordered a latte and a cookie bigger than my face, then nestled onto a giant wooden bench, which I shared with  a talkative lad on a laptop and some free WiFi. For the first time on my trip, I felt human and EXCITED!

That evening, I put on a dress, put my hair up and headed out for dinner with my journalist friend Tom from International Business Times NY. We’ve been corresponding and working together for over two years, and it was amazing beyond words to finally be filled with his presence.

We went to an Italian named Bella Luna- the service was flawless, the salad was rich and the conversation was surreal. It rained. The candles made the street look pretty outside. We got free bread. I promised to pay the bill/offer Tom a job when I’m successful. (Note the WHEN, not the IF. The travelling must be getting to my head. I’m never normally this brave). Nevertheless, I made a promise, and I am going to have to keep it!

I met a dancer from Pittsburgh and a traveller from Austria that night in the hostel. They asked me to come along to a jazz club with them. I was too tired. I will forever be wondering what that jazz club was like, and if the dancer was successful with her auditions.


Love, Pixie









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