16 out of all 24 Island Hoppers made it to Manhattan. That's a whopping 67% –according to Maddy a never seen occurrence in the history of social travel.
I left the warm Mediterranean shores last summer saying goodbye to some of them on an rocking ferry from Ios to Athens. I was emotionally numbed by nausea, as the antihistaminic I took from some random girl in between gags over a toilet seat clearly came in too late. Others, I barely hugged in an upsettingly drowsy state of mind, once the pill had finally kicked in at our last dinner table. The motion of the sea was mercilessly reproduced by my brain throughout the whole evening until I finally fell asleep. I felt the inevitable sting of sadness at such a pitiful ending to such an amazing time –and nostalgia, as I was convinced I would have to think of them as a beautiful memory. I did not think for one second I'd see them again (soon), let alone this same year!
Unexpectedly, our group chat didn't die. Days and weeks went by with a profile pic of passed-out Brian misrepresenting our surprisingly lively and active dynamic. It was like a stubborn little bug that just would not give up under the attack of spraying time-passing and unlikely interpersonal diversity (yeah, couldn't come up with a better metaphor).
I used to wake up every morning to dozens of messages from all over the world, which went on for quite some time. Finally, on September 22nd, at 9:37pm CET, 8:37pm GMT, 03:37pm EST, and 12:37pm PST, a light bulb went on in my head: “Would anyone be up for a New York week? It's midway for both the California people and the Europe people”. The response was positive, but I didn’t get my hopes up at first.
Ten days later I had my flight tickets, in a feverish state of mind, all racing heart and sweaty palms (and wallet), and in one of my what-have-I-done vs. YOLO kind of moods.
The NYC travel bug spread faster than Corona and screenshots of flight itineraries started popping up from everywhere, just like virus-induced papules. What a rash rush.
When I finally made it to New York City, I arrived at our overpriced hotel with deceiving online advertising. But the disappointment vanished as soon as I walked up the stairs at SoHo's MAMO and saw my friends' happy, familiar faces, and heard their voices once again. The sneaky tears that visited were certainly unexpected, as I was exhausted. But the joy of the reunion gave me all the strength I needed to keep up with the night, staying awake + 24h, which now that I think about it, I had NEVER been before outside of work (booh, 24h shifts, by the way. See you NEVER again!).
There was Derek's birthday cake crowned by two deadly rockets candles, our inhibited singing, our mingling at Madame X Lounge and a visit to self-proclaimed New York's best (absolutely packed) gay bar Industry in the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood. It was one night that felt like three and it is only now thinking back that I can fully appreciate the pure magic that it meant (thank you again, Jamie!).
I was first to arrive at Bea the next morning, where we enjoyed an amazing brunch followed by my second ever visit to Broadway, where Wicked absolutely blew me away and brought the second set of New York tears to my eyes. My visit to The Summit with Andy was as impactful, and a mellow version of what I felt just before jumping off a plane in New Zealand. After a brief stroll through christmassy Bryant Park, we headed for dinner with the others at a Turkish restaurant we had all to ourselves.
In case you guys ever read this, you can roll your eyes at me all you want, but you know you like my dad jokes just as much as the delicious hummus we had that night. Here's a reminder of my stellar performance at the dinner table:
- “What do you call dangerous hummus as a side dish? Hummuside”.
- “You don't like hummus, Kaleigh? So you're a hummus-less person”
- “Here we all are, just a bunch of hummus sapiens having dinner”.
- “Ah, come on, you guy, I know you like my sense of hummus”.
Once everyone but Andy and I had left, he turned into The Best City Guide I could have wished for, and suddenly I was blessed with the rare gift of not having to use my neurons for DAYS, literally until I was brought back to the airport. I never ever looked at a map, searched for the right subway line, I never ordered an Uber or booked a site, which was refreshingly new to me considering my usual patterns. All I had to do was follow him around (20.000 steps every day!), take pictures, talk, laugh and go on a marathon of dad joke freestyle verborrhea. At some point he teased me about something and I said, “One day, Andy, you'll pay for this”. His reply: “Oh, I think I already am”. Those last New York tears were laughter-induced, and God knows my PayPal account was on fire in an attempt to balance things out.
Those last few days were full of first impressions, excitement and joy: Time's Square's Happy Socks, a GIANT bubble blower from amazing Party City, crossing Brooklyn Bridge, visiting the 9/11 Memorial, the Financial District, The Highline and Chelsea Market, watching Last Night in SoHo at a fancy AMC movie theater on reclinable seats while sticking my face in an XXL popcorn bucket, enjoying the dreadfully stunning views from The Edge at Hudson Yards, buying my exclusive NYC Pandora charm, soaking up art and history at the MET, (unsuccessfully) feeding oatmeal cookies to cheeky fearless Central Park squirrels, unbeatable strawberry waffles at our usual random diner around the corner, delicious lunch at Eataly and finally, my one and only planning contribution: seeing The Manhattan Transfer live at The Blue Note, leading to serious facial muscle soreness from the smile that owned me for hours. I just CAN'T WAIT to give their signed CD to my dad as a Christmas gift.
While typing, I am pleasently aware of how it all sounds like some sort of movie script. This whole unexpected experience, all these people, were definitely not what I envisioned at the beginning of 2021. I think my favorite lesson here is that beautiful things happen outside of The Comfort Zone. Yes, life is hard. It is unfair. It is short and at times pointless. But these facts are nothing but liberating permission to make the best out of it. To be brave and bold and unbiased, and to interpret it freely to our liking, so that we can squeeze every single drop of fun and joy and meaning we can out of it.
In this sense, it took a first meeting to click and spark up incipient feelings of cordiality and appreciation for a bunch of strangers. It took consistent messaging and a second encounter to deepen those, and to start talking about friendships. Now all I can say is that I can't wait for the third, which I hope will happen soon, in order to anchor some of these people to my life for good, in a significantly meaningful, life-changing and self-bettering kind of way.
Exquisit. Undoubtedly one of my favorite songs ever.
Ah, ooh, ah
This be-bop's too much
I know you know
Hip hop, never stop
I'll pour you tasty funk
We got cool and hot
Just for you, the pleasures of the soul
Come on, come in
And check it out
Soul food to go