The New Start

My aunt's visit was the ending chapter of my amazing first summer in NYC. Now it was time for school which meant new friends but less personal time. However, I was fine with it as I really wanted to meet new people in the city. I didn't realize it right away, but the more time I spend here, the more this issue became realistic.

No need to say, I was excited to go to the international students orientation at my school. Classes registration, new connections, and finally some clarity about my new school were just a few of my expectations.

I woke up very early. It always happens to me if I'm pumped about something. Daily routine seemed different, breakfast was tastier, sun was brighter, birds sang more even more beautiful. Simply to say, it was a great morning.
Finally I got to the school, found the right floor, and there was a huge line.
'Are you also for international students orientation here?' - the guy that stood right after me in line asked me in Russian after glancing at my ID.
We had a short talk and then saw another person joining our waiting area.
'Are you also Russian by any chance?' - my new talkative friend asked a guy.
'No... I'm from Brazil' - he answered.
You know this moment when you just meet the person, but you know, you're going to be good friends? Well, that's exact;y what happened. I hope I'm right this time again.
The information given at the orientation was useful, but all of us seemed to be much more interested in the lunch section of the event. While that break we all exchanged numbers, the Brazilian guy and I decided to meet to play tennis one day.

We decided to meet up later that week. Not for tennis, though, we went out to the club "40/40."

Claiming itself just as a sports bar/lounge, it was more than that. As it was Friday, the public was very diverse: some people were dancing and relaxing after a hard week, a few of regulars were chatting with bartenders, a cute couple was all chatty and giggly in a corner, and also there were us - excited about NYC life international kids. The spot gave this relaxing feeling  and at the same time reminded you about its "coolness" with its deign and service.

After talking for a while my new friend and I found out our interests are very different.
'I love Maroon 5!' - he exclaimed after "Daylight" came up.
'They're pretty good. I like jazz also...' - I threw a random fact about me.
'Jazz? Who listens to that?'

As night was going on, the conversation went from music tastes to life priorities. It's something I can just go on and on as I'm too excited about the future
and everything that I'm planning to do in the next few years. While Jackie, that was my new friend name, was all about love and relationship. I called him 'girly' for that, however, my dear reader, I might be too guyish and career-oriented. Overall, Jackie was just a genuinely nice guy, who was also very funny.
However, there was a thing we both loved a lot. Both of us loved going out. Overall, Jackie was just a genuinely nice guy, who was also very funny. These few facts became a start of our friendship. 

The Decision

It was going to be an exciting night. I was getting my documents ready to have my 6 PM flight to New York City, when I found my acceptance letter in the folder with other important papers. There was nothing unique or special about this transfer acceptance letter from Baruch College for anybody else but not for me, Linda, the dreamer and the achiever.

Many sleepless nights, dreams, fears, tears, and smiles were for me in this letter. Since I decided to come to the United States to study I've always wanted to go to Baruch, but, unfortunately, being 17-year-old freshie I couldn't afford on-campus living in NYC which was required.

Now, after long 2 years in Oklahoma I was ready to move on, go to the land where all dreams come true. I applied as soon as I got eligible for it. Opening the e-mail with the admission decision the internet connection got pretty nervous too.

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These minutes were equal to hours and days of waiting for me. I see little pictures and blue lines slowly appearing on my tiny screen.

“Sorry…”

I didn't have to reads the rest.

I tried to think that my decision to transfer wasn't that good. I assured myself that things are happening the best way they can happen.

The new semester was coming. I committed myself to work 46 hours a week and took 18 hours a semester. I did everything I could to not think about this, to cut my entire free time, to reduce my communication with friends who kept asking the same question: “How is your plan with that COOL school in NYC?”

The deadline to apply for fall semester was getting closer. I unliked all pages in social networks connected to Baruch as they kept reminding me to try again. I don’t know why, but for the first time in my life I was scared. Scared to be refused AGAIN.

Two days before the deadline I met one of my friends who was one of few people who actually cared about me and understood my weird personality pretty well.

“You know, you have a chance to get out of here. Get out somewhere where you can achieve anything. And I know you can do anything, I believe that you can do anything. Apply tomorrow and don’t lose this chance.”

This application process was very different from what I did before. I did it fast, in one day. In my letter I put nothing but truth, I confessed how much I want the challenge which I didn't get in my present school in Oklahoma at all.

And then I got it, a letter, and not an e-mail, that invited me to join one of the greatest business schools in NYC.

Now, holding this letter and feeling the excitement filling my heart I was thinking about the challenge New York prepared for me.

‘Did you take your passport?’ – My best friend Emily, who became my real family in the foreign land of Oklahoma, asked. Catching my smile with a drop of embarrassment, she thankfully didn't even say a single word to our other roommates about that great time I nearly got late to my plane because I forgot my passport. ‘Ready to go?’

It surprised me how few people were at the airport. The storm was going throughout the United States, and I concluded that this was the main reason of unpopularity of flights today. Seeing that my flight is an hour late and comparing this to the fact that every other flight apparently got cancelled, I tried to see this as a good thing. Emily left, and I stayed at the dark airport alone.

After a few hours I saw the message on the board claiming “CANCELLED.”

Now my flight info line stopped being a unique green light of hope and under the pressure joined the majority.

Not worried at all, I went to the airline desk.

“Are you kidding me? In 3 hours from Tulsa?” – Emily was shouting in the phone on her way back to Will Rogers. “We’ll make it.”

Flying/driving on the wings of hope and dream we got to Tulsa right in time. I went inside being happy looking at the pretty “green” flight schedule screen.

However, in about 2 hours my flight was cancelled again.

“Coming back now,” – yawning said my friend.

I was leaving Tulsa airport after one of the worst nights in my life filled with nothing but fear, tears and anger. I looked at Oklahoma again and realized that was the exact time I was supposed to get to JFK. My brain didn't even give a choice or asked for my view on this situation. Nope, not at all, the decision was made.

The only words I told Emily on the way back: “I’m leaving Oklahoma for good next week.”