Nostalgic
Maybe it was the mellow music or the bittersweet ending, but something about Zach Braff's new movie, The Last Kiss, left me feeling dreamy and nostaligic. I walked out of the office building where the screening was and crossed Broadway. I passed O'Lunney's Irish Pub, and suddenly I was wrapped up in a really vivid memory of the last time I was leaving the exact same place heading in the same direction. It was early March 2004. I'd just gone to see a screening of Mean Girls as a friend's plus one, and I was on my way to meet the Illegal Irish Immigrant for our third date. The thought of that crisp March night almost made me forget that it was really a sweltering August evening. I didn't run into Frankie Muniz as I crossed the street this time, and I didn't stop outside O'Lunney's to wait for the Illegal to meet me for dinner and a few too many Magners. But I caught a glimpse of how giddy and happy I was that night, how completely unaware I was of the heartbreak that was headed my way. (Although, really, I should have seen it coming. I was dating an illegal Irish immigrant after all.)
A few blocks later, I passed the Roosevelt Hotel where I'd met two of my cousins for drinks my first week in New York. I could almost see myself walking in the door of the swanky hotel, wearing my cutest outfit and happily clutching the keys to my new apartment. I'd just picked them up from my new roommate, and I couldn't wait to move in. I was broke and unemployed, but the world was so full of possibility. It was terrifying, but I was pretty damn excited, too.
This city is so full of memories for me, and no matter how much things change, nothing can take that away from me. This place will always be a little bit magical.
(Apologies for the sappy post. I blame Zach Braff.)
Maybe it was the mellow music or the bittersweet ending, but something about Zach Braff's new movie, The Last Kiss, left me feeling dreamy and nostaligic. I walked out of the office building where the screening was and crossed Broadway. I passed O'Lunney's Irish Pub, and suddenly I was wrapped up in a really vivid memory of the last time I was leaving the exact same place heading in the same direction. It was early March 2004. I'd just gone to see a screening of Mean Girls as a friend's plus one, and I was on my way to meet the Illegal Irish Immigrant for our third date. The thought of that crisp March night almost made me forget that it was really a sweltering August evening. I didn't run into Frankie Muniz as I crossed the street this time, and I didn't stop outside O'Lunney's to wait for the Illegal to meet me for dinner and a few too many Magners. But I caught a glimpse of how giddy and happy I was that night, how completely unaware I was of the heartbreak that was headed my way. (Although, really, I should have seen it coming. I was dating an illegal Irish immigrant after all.)
A few blocks later, I passed the Roosevelt Hotel where I'd met two of my cousins for drinks my first week in New York. I could almost see myself walking in the door of the swanky hotel, wearing my cutest outfit and happily clutching the keys to my new apartment. I'd just picked them up from my new roommate, and I couldn't wait to move in. I was broke and unemployed, but the world was so full of possibility. It was terrifying, but I was pretty damn excited, too.
This city is so full of memories for me, and no matter how much things change, nothing can take that away from me. This place will always be a little bit magical.
(Apologies for the sappy post. I blame Zach Braff.)
