Hello,
This is A Note from Adam Wade.
It arrives twice a month. It’s short. It’s personal.
Thanks for choosing to be here.
The Beginning
Sunday night, May 17, 1998, 11:45 pm
My first night in New York City
Rubin Hall, New York University
10th Street and 5th Avenue
In my mothball-smelling dorm room—summer housing for ten weeks—I lay in bed, way too excited to sleep.
I got up and turned on the light.
The room was almost empty: a gym bag stuffed with clothes, an empty plastic bag that had once held my bedsheets, and my guitar resting in its case.
On the desk sat a half-filled notebook, a few pens, a folded subway map, and a neat stack of resumes.
I took a deep breath, put on a pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt, and headed out.
As I stepped onto Fifth Avenue, a thought landed clearly in my head: You’re not in New Hampshire anymore.
I walked down the block to a 24-hour bodega and bought a pint of ice cream.
Then I wandered into Washington Square Park and leaned against the arch.
The air was thick with marijuana, sugar, and roasted peanuts.
Two women walked by with small, puffy dogs.
“He’s not eating,” one said. “I put food out for him twice today—nothing.”
Nearby, a man with a boombox blasted the New York Dolls’ Personality Crisis.
Two yellow cabs aggressively beeped their horns at one another as they got too close for comfort.
Using the tiny wooden spoon, I dug into my Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie.
I smiled a huge smile.
Since I was a little kid, I had dreamed of living in New York City.
I quietly started humming the opening bars of New York, New York.
Thanks for reading,
Adam