Dad dropped me off at the airport this morning before he went to work. It was then that I realized my flight was booked for September 9. Maybe I'm excited to get going with my "new life," as everyone calls it, in New York. The nice lady at the ATA counter fixed me up for an additional $50. That's the price of not wanting to admit my own stupidity. And now I'm here, with the pouring down remnants of a hurricane, to see what's up with life in The Big City.
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