a cautionary tale. and on how exactly it was that i came to see the face of God in a packet of giant-chewey-sweet tarts.

i have this thing. for dying breeds of candy.

i love them. all of them.

now and laters. check.

nerds. check. (might not be dying completely, but certainly on the endangered list.)

giant chewy sweet tarts. yes please. pass them this-a-way.

new york city is the place to live when you have penchant for long-ago-passed-over-sweets. (scorekeeper, a point to the city, please).

you see, whereas many a drugstore stopped carrying these throwbacks to the good ole days, we here in manhattan have bodegas and subway stands galore. and these little, movable candy stands never fail to impress.

so that's where i go in search of my now and laters. and my giant chewy sweet tarts. and while they're always a little stale and i find myself yearning for the halloweens of my childhood, i succumb to the call of the sweets, stale or not. beggars, as it turns out, cannot be choosers.

it was thursday night. and i was in the 59th street station. waiting for the A, my chariot of choice. and sometimes, after work, i feel like i deserve those giant chewy sweet tarts. well, as it turns out, i now know to run in the opposite direction as soon as i think i deserve anything. this feeling of entitlement is the kiss of death. in this case, literally.

but back to the chewy sweet tarts. there are four in a pack. and they take some time to eat. and paired with a good book, they make the subway right home almost tolerable. ( oh, yes, long subway rides home; scorekeeper please remove the aforementioned point).

so i pulled out the first one.

purple.

or grape, i suppose.

and there i am sitting and waiting for the train as this older african american gentleman croons away next to me (he was quite good, by the way). and i'm sucking on the grape. and it's producing a sweet juice in my mouth and i turn my head to look for the train and boom. the sweet juice (probably more phlegm than anything) slips down the wrong pipe. which if i remember correctly from freshman biology, means the epiglottis didn't close in time and pain was-a-my-way-coming.

so i start coughing. little hiccups of coughs.

and then i stand and start to walk, totally embarrassed that i'm starting to choke to death on the subway platform. because that's what's happening. i am actually starting to choke to death. right there. on the platform.

and here's the thing, my little hiccups of coughs aren't helping. and i can't get a good cough out. and i can't breath. oh, God, i can't breathe.

and there overlooking the tracks i will myself to throw-up. but throw-up what, i think? i'm not actually choking on the piece of the candy--this is just my own body voodoo juice slipped to the wrong place.

so i take in some breaths. and i am aware of the air entering the body and doing nothing. and i become acutely aware that choking to death feels nothing, not-at-all, like i expect. it doesn't feel like it looks (in movies and such).

and there in the 59th street station, standing on the edge of the platform. waiting for the A, listening to the man revisiting marvin gaye's greatest hits, God takes pity on me and grants a burp. a stomach rattling movement of air upward and out.

and it feels like almost nothing. it is far from satisfying. but it grants me life. for another day, at least.

and this burp is followed by another burp. and another. and my panicked shaking slowly subsides.

and i look at the other three giant chewy sweet tarts nestled in the package i still clutch in my left hand, and i think (very seriously, mind you) about whether to save them for later, or dig right in.

and then some wiser power (probably the aforementioned, no?) provides me with one of those rare, lucid moments. and the giant chewy sweet tarts, all three of them, find their way into the garbage can.

the train finally comes. and as i take my seat i flash on all those iconic scenes of new york city single gals coming oh-so-close to meeting their maker. miranda choking on chinese food. or liz lemon nearly done in just hours after jack's warning, "i would think that biggest thing a single woman has to worry about would be choking to death alone in her apartment."

well.

here's what i think:

turns out it can happen on a subway platform too.

and it's high time to find myself a man. or an insurance policy inclusive of such an end.

other diversions.

when on a tuesday night you find yourself at a bar offering two dollar drinks,

but the drinks aren't so good (or of huge interest to you)

and there's not a cute guy to be seen...

it's more fun to try on your friend's gorgeous (and very fake) diamond ring and dream of a day when you won't be perusing (what might be) a college bar for men.

but i went out on a tuesday night. in search of things like men.

a new year, indeed!

so there are people that say socializing is good for one's health.

so my juilliard classmate (and one time prom date back in high school) ben and i hit up where the wild things are.

and then topped it off with some new york pizza. 

we joked about our current pains when it comes to paying the bills and the people we're forced to deal with. ben sells water (very expensive water) in broadway houses across the city. when asked why the water is so expensive he quickly responds, it's talent water--the same water they drink backstage. not only that, it's imported. then, with flare he throws it over the front of his arm, asking if they'd like to see the label. or when a customer asked him if he was working his way through college, and he said, he'd actually graduated, the said customer said, oh really, was this your major? and he said in all seriousness: why yes, i majored in concession management. 

bless you ben. 

when telling a guest the other day that we no longer allow strollers in the dining room because of safety reasons and  he asked if i had a PhD in that area (strollers in restaurants) i should have said, do you?

as i turns out ben is on hell of an actor. and a very good friend to share a monday night with. 

in new york.

yesterday morning i woke up itching away. 

it was 4 am. 

and i had gone to bed wearing shoes.

all i wanted to do was take a hot shower.

and our hot water had been turned off.

this was a low point. 

a very, very, low point.

but i made the decision to have a good day.

and then learned that sometimes even making the decision does not a good day ensure.

but last night?

well, last night i slept until the gentle ding ding ding of my alarm. 

i then took a piping hot shower, drank in the autumnal air, and knew it would be a good day.

often, people here in manhattan want to know why i moved so far north. and this whole bed bug thing has increased the rapidity of those questions. 

well, to them i say this:

bed bugs and all i wouldn't change a thing. because this morning when i went for my jog, this is what i saw:

and yes. this was in new york city.

uh-oh-spaghettio

biggest danger of new neighborhood:

running into boys that i just do not want to see again. ever.

no use hiding though.

because, let's be honest, that's a hazard living anywhere in this city. 

image via visualize.us

closet not mine. though wishing

it was (along with

those legs. but

that's another story)!