She arrived on a muggy Tuesday morning, sticky with perspiration and ungracefully lugging 150 pounds in three suitcases, a camera case, and a purse. She arrived with an acne breakout to rival any high school sophomore, presumably brought on by the stress of moving. She arrived tired eye and grinning, unavoidably gushing to the Egyptian cab driver, "I'm moving to New York, I mean, I'm moving right now. I'm here!" (His response was incoherent, but kind and welcoming, no doubt.) She arrived at a tiny locksmith shop where she was to pick up the keys to her apartment. The interior was not actually spacious enough to accommodate three suitcases, a camera case, a purse, and a sweaty woman, but, determined to be city-savvy, she would not leave her belongings on the sidewalk to be stolen. So, setting off the door-bell no less than 15 times, she got it all in. Immediately, the man handed over the keys in a little brown sack, and the door bell bonged 15 more times as she struggled to turn the 56 lb. rolling suitcase around with one hand. One long city block to the apartment, she cursed her choice to wear jeans as she rolled, back-packed, and carried her 150 pounds to her new home. Two flights of stairs and one more gallon of perspiration later, AND!
She has arrived!
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