But in 1989, I didn't dare go over to 9th Avenue. Even in the daytime, it looked desolate. I always turned right whenever I walked out of that YMCA towards brighter, louder 8th Avenue.
I was starving before I checked into my room that first August evening. So I threw my bags down on the little bed and immediately ventured out again.
As I left the building, I put my wallet in my front pocket and assumed the stance of a seasoned New Yorker - downcast eyes, sullen face and a resolute stride like I was late for something. Even though I had no idea where I was going. I wasn't afraid, just...out of my element and hyper-aware of my new surroundings. Ready in case someone jumped me.
I passed steel gates guarding narrow stores. I heard the rumble of the subway somewhere beneath me. Dozens of people just shuffled on the sidewalks even though it was close to 10 p.m. Once at 34th and 8th, I stood still, contemplating my next move. Should I turn? Just keep going straight? Why do I keep smelling chestnuts roasting?
Then I felt conspicuous like I really was fresh off of the train. So I crossed and veered to the right, passing an adult book store with glaring "PEEP SHOW" signs. Wow, right here out in the open, I thought. I slowed down, trying to peek in. I didn't see the guy crouched on a crate by the front door.
"Hey, little man. C'mon in. Whatchu need tonight?"
I snapped my head and sped away.
"Can I have a dollar?" he called out after me.
Embarrassed, I sought refuge in the only thing I recognized: The Golden Arches. So much for my big exploration. I wasn't proud that McDonald's was my first meal as a New Yorker, but I rationalized it by thinking "Go With What You Know." I gorged on a Big Mac, a cheeseburger, and large fries. I passed on a pop. Why spend money on a drink when I can get water later from the drinking fountain. I had to stick to my budget.
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