The Dream

18 10 2009

I decided to go to New York during my brief stint as a desk clerk at the Bayside Inn. I needed a challenge.

And boy, did I get one.

Working at the Bayside was easy and as close to a “no-show” Mafia job as it gets. I handled the graveyard shift, which basically meant checking the pimps and prostitutes into their rooms and making coffee.

It was a job well below my education, life-training and previous work experience.

So I left. Saved up the money, bought a one-way plane ticket to the Big Apple and was determined to make it in the big leagues.

Ha!

What I got was another education. A street-wise one. Truth be told, I am lucky to be alive to write about it.

I lived on the streets for a month…with all my worldly belongings stuffed into a Ben Sherman tote bag. It rained almost every day I was there. Nothing like sloshing through the concrete jungle in damp clothes.

Ben's Bag

Ben's Bag

Parks were like an oasis. A chance to rest. My shoulders were sore. My feet hurt and my back ached. But something kept me going.

That something was “the dream”…. America.

But in the Summer of ’09, with the whispers of another Great Depression engulfing the country, “the dream” was  quite elusive.