I swear it happened...

It happened when I was 14 years old. I rode the PATH train from Pavonia-Newport in Jersey City, got off at 9th street, took one walk through Washington Square Park and knew I had fallen in love with New York City. It was just the place for me, minus the pink-haired, hackeysacking, ripped jeans thing. I carried this love with me through high school, through my days at NYU, through scorching summer heat and windy intersections, through smelly subway cars and $14 martinis.

My unwillingness to pay exponential rates to live in an essential dorm room, where bugs double as your neighbor, coupled with my dissatisfaction at suburban living brought me back to a little place just across the river called Pavonia-Newport. Perhaps (more than a few) years out of college, I realized (to my dismay) that I begrudgingly fit somewhere in between Jersey City and Manhattan.

I'm not going to lie to you, my life is not that different from thousands of other 'New Yorkers'. However, my daily commutes have forced me to adapt a lifestyle that is not quite the glamour of Manhattan, yet fools my mind into thinking I'm really a Big Appler, since I'm just a quick PATH ride away. And while these PATH rides can be crowded, smelly, and aggravating, a lot happens between Jersey City and Manhattan..