emoryelizabeth

Before I moved to New York, I had the impression that the city was filled to the brim with glamorous celebrities, and one need only to walk down Park Avenue to bump into the likes of Beyoncé or Robert De Niro. (“Oh, Alexa Chung, I’m so sorry I just bumped into you.” “Oh, darling, it’s quite alright, I was just on my way to shop at Saks. Why don’t you join me? My treat!”) I had only been living in Brooklyn one week, but frustration with not yet having come face-to-face with fame was already burgeoning.

When the earthquake struck Haiti, suddenly everywhere I turned was an opportunity to donate to the cause. Although I was eating sweet-potatoes for dinner, guilt eventually settled in, and I determined to find the best way to donate a whopping $1. Only a few minutes of searching, and I found that David Blaine would be performing in Times Square all weekend to raise money. Perfect, I thought, and threw on my coat.

I arrived early so the crowd wasn’t too large, and I could just see him performing a card trick–the usual “pick a card and I’ll find it” routine, but still impressive. After every two or three tricks a few guys would come around with big bowls asking for donations. I waited until David was looking in my direction to deliberately (and probably a little too dramatically) drop my money in with the rest. Judge me if you want, but it worked.

“You.” He was pointing at me. “Do you want to pick a card?” The crowd parted, and I stepped in front of David Blaine and the deck he held on his palm. First he had me pick a card that he couldn’t see (Ace of Spades), sign it, and place it back into the deck. “Pick a suit other than that of your chosen card.” “Hearts,” I replied. It seemed like a normal card trick at first, until he held up the deck inches from my face and, using his index finger, lightly tapped the top. And the deck shrunk. I don’t mean the cards got smaller; I mean his hand must have been absorbing cards, because the deck went from 52 cards to 14 in just a few seconds. When he turned them over, it was the entire suit of Hearts in order from Ace to King followed by the Ace of Spades, my name still glistening in Sharpie at the top.

Up until this point, nobody had been allowed to leave with the card they had signed, and I wasn’t expecting to keep mine either. But the look on my face must have betrayed what I felt because he asked if I wanted mine, signed and dated the card, and handed it over. I heard a few people mumble something about “not fair,” but I didn’t really care. I pushed my way out of that crowd a happy woman.

In 24 hours, it will be exactly one year since I sat on the steps of a crumbling apartment building in Brooklyn with my back pressed against my oversized red suitcase, waiting for my new roommate to arrive so I could struggle with it up three flights of grimy stairs into my very first New York City apartment. Barely 21 and fresh off the plane from Texas, I was alone and completely terrified. I knew no one, had no money, and all my thoughts of big lights and big dreams had dissolved the instant the door slammed shut and the cab peeled down Ocean Avenue, leaving me alone to shiver in my dress. Once I had settled into my room with only a mattress and a dresser, I sat down on the floor and cried.

In retrospect, it’s funny, cliché and slightly pathetic all at the same time. And I am so glad I did it. Slowly, my roots have sprouted, and I’ve created a life here, acquiring several stories that I’ve merely slipped into my pocket and thought, “I can’t wait to tell my friends about this later.” This blog will be the retrieval of these stories and a record of what I continue to experience. Mostly, I just want a record to look back on, but if I amuse a few people in the process, this will be all the more worthwhile.