Thanks for seein' about a girl, friend. here's where I'm writing my own history—for you, for me and anyone else who needs to laugh to keep from cryin' every once in awhile.

Impress me.

So I’m a bit behind with the posts. I intended them to be fresh off the press. Like I’d run in from my day and tell you all about it. Extra! Extra!

Anyway, let me recap. Yesterday was my first working day in the city. You know, it was VDay and all, lots of flower vendors were hawking roses on city sidestreets, couples were holding hands and sharing goodbye-honey-have-a-great-day kisses, impeding my pseudo-important stalk to the subway entrance.

The subway: Hmmm. Where do I begin? Germs. So many germs. Everywhere. Unpreventable. Immediate submersion into the germ underground. I bought my first NYC metro ticket, even though some guy was like, aw lady, you don’t need that, let me hook you up. I gave him the left eyebrow – it has a nice arched hook to it.

I’ve no time to play. I’ve left an hour early so I can have enough time to be swept across the streets by mobs of people, and make it to my destination by 9:30. I can’t be late on the first day. Which train? N? R? W? Are they all going to the same place?? I get shoved out of the way by a disgruntled Asian lady who is muttering to herself as she spreads out her blanket on the bench in front of the boarding area.

“Well excuuuuuuuse you,” I say needlessly to myself. I don’t care that people are rude. That’s their prerogative. I am going to keep my Southern hospitality because it’s the Golden Rule and if there’s something I want to be, it’s golden. I hop on a train, but scared that it’s the wrong one I hop right off. Can’t be late on the first day. I see a white bubble goose coat dash by and suddenly I feel like Alice lost in wonderland watching the Rabbit make a mad dash.

“I wonder if that was the right train…” I look at the map. You know it was. Again, I am Alice. I am staring at the transit map and I find myself chuckling when I remember another Alice moment:

"Doorknob: Read the directions and directly you will be directed in the right direction."

Duh. Fool. Color coding is a wonderful thing. But alas, the MTA transit is alright. They just sent another one straight away in less than 5 minutes. That’s what I’m talking about! That is service! I sit down next to someone tweaking their IPOD. He’s wearing some nice cologne and he smiles at me as if to say, “Monday. Lovely ain’t it?” A man across from me unfolds the paper from beneath his arm and snaps it open in front of him as the subway jerks into motion.

I see myself staring at my own reflection in the glass as the train starts to wind its way through those tunnels. Suddenly the train car door opens – the one where the cars connect just like in the movies – and someone enters the car looking for a seat. I can’t help it. I smile at the man and he sits across from me and smiles back. He even says good morning, how are you, but it’s more like gud mahning how vajew?

New York ain’t so bad I think to myself.

My stop comes up and I embark on finding my way to ground level. I’ve never crowd surfed because it’s not my style, but I swear I don’t recall actually climbing the steps myself. It was more like I was pitted in the mosh and suddenly I found myself on the sidewalk looking left and then right and then left again.

“Where the hell am I?” I think to myself, feeling like a child dropped off on the first day of school. Feeling more, actually, like Alice, staring haplessly at the Cheshire cat chillin’ in the tree: `Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?' `That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat. `I don't much care where--' said Alice. `Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat. I laugh to myself nervously thinking it can’t matter because the streets, while crowded and busy, really form a very simple grid, Danita. Think.

It’s so loud. And there are so many people. And everyone seems to know where they are going.

“NEW YORWK POOOOOOOOST! GETCHA NEW YORWK POOOOOOOST. RIGHT HERE! Hey purdy lady, where you headed? You know where you goin’?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. I’m good. Thank you.”

“My those are some fine eyes you got there,” he says as his eyes focus on my chest.

I take two steps forward and then … I take two steps back. It’s the opposite way fool. The Cheshire Cat was wrong. He is forever playing mind games, and I, even as a grown ass woman, am not immune.

2nd avenue and 57th street. Booyah! Eureka. Hallelujah. I get there, and hustle into a waiting elevator where a lady with a kind face turns to me and says, “Trainee, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. That’s me.”

“Aw, great! Which one are you?”

“I’m Danita. Danita Reese.” (On the inside I chuckle thinking, Bond says it so much cooler, and a martini would be GREAT right now. You know, for my nerves, lol.)

“Oh Danita. I know who you are. Awesome writing samples. From South Carolina, right? You’re in marketing. With Bob. He’s great. 3rd floor? I’m on 4th. Demanding. But great. Really great. Dynamic. Man, he’s excited about you. Says he’s got himself a smartie and is going to make everyone jealous …”

I am smiling the entire time. Partly flattered, mostly bewildered. It’s like Cheers almost. I get off the elevator and the receptionist smiles hello. I go to be seated and she says to let her guess...

“You’re Danita? Such a pretty name, have a seat. We’re so glad to finally meet you.”

“Thanks! I’m glad to finally be here.”

And inside my head I hear:

Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got. Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot. Wouldn't you like to get away? Sometimes you want to go, where everybody knows your name, and they're always glad you came. You wanna be where you can see, our troubles are all the same You wanna be where everybody knows your name. You wanna go where people know, people are all the same, You wanna go where everybody knows your name. You want to go where people know, people are all the same; You want to go where everybody knows your name.

I'm livin' it.

Alone in my room I am a Rockette.