Today is the 5th anniversary of when I became a New Yorker.
Never mind that I had moved here some 4 months before, the fruit of 4 years of hard planning and harder choices. Or that I am a scion of a fiercely-proud family of Brooklynites and had spent many a day and night in that storied borough.
On July 11, 2003 (coincidentally, also a Friday), the following happened, and in this order:
- I successfully navigated the New York State DMV to get my NY driver’s licence (and jettison the one issued by a state I was thrilled to no longer have any connection to)
- I registered to vote (Republican)
- I received a bona-fide fulltime job offer, after months freelancing and several rounds of interviews
- I saw the Mets get pasted by Philadelphia at Shea (it was 9-1 by the 7th inning when I left)
And five years later:
- I still don’t own a car
- My vote generally means shit in this town, which affords me the “luxury” of voting my conscience: libertarian
- I got canned from that job less than a year later, and have been on unemployment twice since then; I’ll soon have two years in my current gig, the longest stretch of job security since moving here
- Haven’t been to a Mets game since