The Old Man and the NYC
At 32, I feel like I'm officially qualified to say " you're so young" or " you're just a kid." The funny part is I'm typically saying this to people in their 20s. It was only a decade ago that people were telling me that exact thing. Naturally, I shrugged it off with disbelief. How dare someone question my quarter-life crisis?
But it's true. My 20s really felt like a lifetime ago. It's crazy seeing things from the other side. Heartbreak. Friendship breakups. Career changes. If anything, it's reflective of where I am now. Both good and bad.
Perfect example: A few months ago I had the opportunity to photograph a gamechanger in the making. Fresh out of college, he moved to LA and hustled his way into the entertainment industry. He's worked with some of Hollywood's biggest movers and shakers and it seems that he's just getting started. He's 25.
Not to say that it isn't easy. He's pretty transparent about his journey on his blog. He actually inspired me to start this professional journal. But, I couldn't help but wonder...what if? What if I did things differently? What if I had followed the impulsive dreams of my 20's? Would I be just like him?
Picture it. Tuscaloosa. 2015.
I was walking across the stage at Coleman Coliseum with a degree and signed a promissory note. At 22, I had an airtight gameplan: move to NYC in the Fall, thrive and embrace my inner Carrie Bradshaw. The typical, basic millennial dream.
I had never been to Manhattan, but I did watch reruns of “How I Met Your Mother”, “ Friends”, “ Living Single”, “ Girls” and, of course, “ Sex and the City.” I was a man obsessed.
No one could escape my rambles of taking the Big Apple by storm. Two weeks after graduation, I bit the bullet and bought a round-trip ticket. The plan was to visit, take notes, come back and recharge my funds for the impending move. Funny story: I met actor Khalil Kain in Central Park during that visit. Even he got the unsolicited pitch. Granted, he was nice about it.
Things were looking good for me. I had just written my then magnum opus, a feature on a classmate who landed an understudy role for the hottest show on Broadway. Also, I had tickets to see Jay Z. I really felt I was destined to be here.
I loved the City. The subways. The food. The Culture. I felt like I was at home. Less than 72 hours later, I was back in Alabama.
Spoiler alert: I never ended up moving there. However, I discovered my love of photography and went on to pursue journalism in Birmingham. My work is not yet in the NYT, but I've accumulated my share of bylines. Life is good.
That isn't to say that I didn't live vicariously through the many college classmates that booked one-way tickets to LaGuardia and JFK. It's nothing for me to imagine the life I could've lived if I had just bought that ticket, too. But what's done is done. I am only 32. Hell, social media is officially calling this the " SATC pilot" year. I'll take it.
I haven’t given up the ghost. But, it doesn’t haunt me as much, either. I visit once a year. I’ll see a show or 2 and get my pork bun from Mei Lei Wah in Chinatown. If I’m up for it, a Sunday lunch at Sylvia’s in Harlem. Every time I go, I feel less like a tourist.
Suffice to say, I am officially the " old" man at the bar that chuckles at young people. You know, the ones that say their life is over. That they are too old. That they don't have time. Every now and then, they'll hear me and I'll just look at them and say " Awwww, You're just a kid."