Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Memory #10: "You're Not Living Here"

One of my favorite memories is when my parents moved me out to NYC after I graduated college.  They were so supportive of me even though I was moving to Brooklyn into an apartment that I'd signed a lease for via fax after never having seen it.  Oh, and the fact that I didn't have a job to support myself.  Mom and Craig took me on a trip to IKEA to get some furnishings and then hauled me and all of my stuff across the country in our van to Brooklyn.  When we pulled off of the BQE and headed off the exit toward my new diggs, we passed building after building covered in graffiti, overturned trash cans and an overall seedy looking area.  When we pulled up to my apartment I went to open the van door to check things out and I heard a click.  The van door was locked and I was stuck inside.  Looking forward I see dread on my mother's face as she said calmly, "you're not living here."  To be honest, I was nearly scared to death myself, but knew showing fear was out of the question at this point.  We had arrived and there was no turning back.  It took some coaxing, and a week of hanging around, to convince my parents that I would be fine.  It was pretty funny, but it came as no surprise to either one of us that I was going to be just fine.

Check out this graffiti bike tour.

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