So by now you all know that I split my time between DC and New Jersey. You probably also know how absolutely obsessed I have been with my life in DC this fall. Case in point, I made my train reservations for this weekend around the football team’s annual Christmas Party. I decided it was way more important to attend the party on Friday night and wake up at the crack of dawn to get to NYC in time for the show instead of missing the party and going home Friday afternoon. So I went to bed at around 4am, woke up at 7am so parched it was painful, and then couldn’t fall back asleep…mostly because I was just so excited to get up, get ready, and get moving to Union Station. Even with the morning after drunken paranoia packing episode, convincing myself that I was going to need everything in my room for an overnight trip, I made it on time for the 10:20 departure.

Now ya see, I am no morning person. The next hour and a half was hell. All of a sudden the train is delayed and I’m stuck waiting on line in between a bickering newlywed couple (shoot me) and an overly friendly, wide awake dude who felt it was necessary to make 50 phone calls, crack jokes, and hum the Naval Academy’s fight song. After two failed attempts at engaging me in conversation he finally gave up. My responses were closer to grunts as opposed to words and I had headphones on…social cues, dude, social cudes…learn them. Finally, we are allowed to board and it’s chaos. Why do we all feel the need to be the FIRST person on the train? We’re all going to the same place but still we fight to the death to beat out the people around us (HA! Suckas). I got the fricken Brady Bunch and all 20 of their suitcases rolling over my feet and shouting over me, “Honey, do you have the tickets out? Ashley, hold my hand. Where’s Max?!” Right behind ya lady, grab Maxy boy, and move your ass. “SERENITY NOW!” (That’s a Seinfeld reference for those who don’t know..cough MIKE FLO cough).

I finally made it on the train and thankfully I got a full seat to myself and had just made a killer playlist. My music and I thoroughly enjoyed our time on the train. As soon as a I stepped out of Penn Station and smelled the New York City air, it was all worth it.

I need to live there. I could feel the creative juices and the cosmic power that city has over me. It makes me want to start my life right then and there, I couldn’t possibly wait another day. I’d live in a shoebox apartment just to be there and LIVE IT every single day. I can feel the opportunities and the possibilities. I can even see the future Range Rover and Louboutins 😛

Anyway, these 24 hours of bliss were brought to me by the Florio clan. There are only a handful of last names that could get that kind of effort out of me and Florio is fo sho one of them. Matt rented a theater to showcase 4 short films that he acted in, wrote, and produced. Uncle Fred, Mike, and Shari all came up from Flo-Rida and the Nigara’s came in from the Dirty Jerz…I was not missing this.

The show was fabulous! (“Who got you down? I got you down” Shout out to Comedy Flo, keep up the good work!) We then ventured to the after party for congratulatory drinks and some catching up. After about an hour or so we ran into quite a large problem: we were now a group of 15 hungry Italians. After many unsuccessful attempts at finding a restaurant that could seat 15 people, at 7:30 on a Saturday night, in NYC during the holidays (shocking, I know), Enzo’s Pizzeria was the winner. Four exxxxtra large pizzas, four calzones, and many bottles of wine later we made a nice little party. We then found a karaoke bar, belted out some tunes with many drunken Santa Clauses, and called it a New York night. On the way home, Mr. Fred ‘Frank Sinatra’ Florio even got us to a New Jersey diner for taylor ham and cheese sandwiches (if you’re not from New Jersey, don’t even act like you know what real taylor ham is).

It was just the study break I needed. A comedy show, New York City pizza, vino vino vino, drunken Santa Clauses on every corner (wait, he’s not real?!), the Four Seasons on the karaoke machine, a miscommunication between my mother and I that turned into a Pretty Woman tribute in the street: “I say WHO, I say WHEN, I say how much, I say WHOOO!”, and a NJ sandwich at a NJ diner. Mhmm dats right, be jealous.

So I was on the bus feeling all “waaahh I wanna be in NYC right now” but then a funny thing happened. I stepped off the bus and as I pulled the handle up on my suitcase and started to walk, The Verve’s song “Bittersweet Symphony”, started playing through my headphones. It’s impossible to listen to this song, while walking, and not feel like you’re walking towards something fantastic. Go ahead and try it, it’s a wonderful feeling. It was such a perfect movie ending scene, I couldn’t have planned it better if I tried.

Picture me in all black and white (as per usual), hood up, headphones on, strutting through the parking lot taking it all in. I want to slap myself for how corny I am right now but I just can’t even do justice to the moment I had. DC represents my independence, the world that I created for myself and golly oh boy I love it.