Little Reid, Big City #3
by Reid Faylor
As I write this I am sitting in the La Guardia airport, waiting for a flight to return to Indiana, a place of soy and subdued racism from whence I was born. Considering I only came to New York with an air mattress and a suitcase, it is now time to go home and gather my worldly possessions, which I love and define me. I’m four weeks into the move –not a bad time to look back and evaluate.
Before the move, I had a lot of anxieties about coming out here. I didn’t know: anyone (kinda); where to perform; where to live; or how to get money. Now: I know people! I’ve gone so far as to recognize people on subways and street-walkin’, and there’s someone to talk to at every show. I know a couple venues to perform (mostly for free even) every night of the week, as well as some of the more popular booked shows to go and watch. I have an apartment, in a neighborhood with only the fewest of stabbings, and though my temp job is done, I actually earned money and have job prospects. Everything I worried about before coming out here resolved itself so simply it’s actually somewhat surprising –they were all pretty inconsequential, more intimidating than they should’ve been.
Not to say there aren’t problems being here. For example: a long-distance relationship! Contrary to what I previously thought, it turns out it’s not a cornucopia of pleasures and feel-goods. Rather, it’s more a wicker basket type structure, full of late-night phone calls, anxiety, and difficult emotions. It’s worth it, but by no means necessarily fun. Also: work! Aside from waking up early and being drained from a day of toil, the commute from New Jersey to New York has been so long at times (read: five hours) that it’s made me miss shows. Thankfully it only lasted for two weeks, and now I know what to consider in my new job search, ideally something with a better commute, more time to think.
A little girl in the airport is chasing a bird along the ground. You’re not going to catch it. You are a dumb little girl. Now your mom’s yelling at you and I hope you feel bad.
It’ll be interesting to get home and see what my perspective is –what will seem different, how it’ll feel being back in familiar terrain. Won’t really get a chance to do much comedy performing this week, though the time to write will be very welcome. I wonder how it’ll feel returning to New York in a week; it’s been good being there, but I wonder if in my mind I was still treating it as a long vacation. Yippee!
And now: guest sentences from my comedian roommates!
Andrew Short (performed with Mike Veccione, neatly trimmed nails): Reid, I’m not here. You’re alone in La Guardia. I’m not even here.
Seeing as Andrew went over his time, his guest sentence will not be returning next week. Dave Waite’s sentence will be up for another go though.