New York, You Found Me

by George Tzintzis (Australia)

I didn't expect to find USA

In a foreign city full of stories, I didn't expect to find my own. There I was, a week out from competing at the cheerleading world championships in Florida to now staring down Broadway at a never-ending sea of urban surprises. I had never travelled on my own before, and when I say on my own, I mean with a group of friends as an adult, or at least a grown child mimicking what adults do. After we had done the stereotypical sightseeing of the Brooklyn Bridge and the crown maiden who overlooked the vibrant streets of Manhattan, we had decided to split up and go our separate ways. The afternoon was dedicated to doing nothing, with a promise to meet for dinner at a well renowned Chinese restaurant we heard of from a local taking out his trash. We told each other to stay safe and keep an eye out. These weren't the suburban streets of Melbourne, and we knew that. Once separated, I started to aimlessly walk down 10th Avenue with no intention of a destination. Never in my twenty-seven years of existence have I felt freedom like I did that lazy Wednesday afternoon when there was nothing but me and this limitless city. Anything was possible. It didn't matter who I was or where I came from. All that mattered to me, in that very moment, was that I was watching everybody else's narrative unfold before me. There was the polished lady who was clearly and loudly having an argument with her son about him wanting to have friends over after school, knowing full well he had homework to do. There was the old man who sat on a bench reading the newspaper, too invested to see the opportunities around him. And finally, there was the girl with a pink backpack. There wasn't anything special about this pink backpack or its owner. But for some reason, it felt like it had meaning. She looked no older than fourteen, but you never know someone's age until you dared to ask. It was springtime, and I didn’t know the schooling system in this part of the world. She looked native enough to understand the people, the streets, and the subway system I had followed her into without the help of Google Maps, as my phone had died only minutes earlier. By the time we were down in the station, the backpacker was nowhere to be seen and all I had was my MetroCard. What else could I possibly need? The more stations that went by and the more passengers that boarded the train, the more I was fascinated by all these creatures with their similarities and differences that made them unique. Ever since I was young enough to tell stories to my family, I knew I wanted to be a narrator of sorts, even if I didn't understand the entire picture of my calling. Having flipped into gymsports since I could do a handstand, I was always coaching as a part-time job during classes and even after I graduated, too scared to find a "real" job. I finally got off the train at a random station and walked a few blocks down the street. All of a sudden I knew where I was and felt this intense awakening of stepping into adulthood. Some call it a coincidence, others fate. Well, I called it destiny. It was destiny that I followed that particular pink backpack into the underground, and it was destiny that I emerged into the daylight when I did. All of this had led me to a library. Not just any, but THE library. A place where stories lived and the tellers revelled. This was a sign. When I got back home, I knew it was time to stand on my own two feet, even if I felt like I wasn’t ready. This moment in time, however, gave me the confidence to leap into the unknown, completely unafraid. I found myself in this magnificent place by walking an unexplained path. New York City had restored my faith. With Patience and Fortitude by my side, I took my first steps as the storyteller I had always imagined.