I arrived in New York last Monday so I’ve been here exactly seven days. I left Edinburgh at around 12pm after having a lovely breakfast with the family. I felt surprisingly emotional - unusual for me - but I guess it was because everyone was in one place (a rare occurrence for my family of 8). I’ve also developed this new, lingering feeling that when you leave people, they won’t always be there when you get back - so I was just feeling… nostalgic.
It didn’t help that I left the house twice. Once on time, and then again about 20 minutes later when I realised I’d forgotten my fiddle. But despite the detour, I arrived in good time for my flight, albeit, a little flustered.
The $60 Bribe
At Edinburgh airport I went to check-in with my airline (which will remain unnamed). When it came to weighing my suitcase, the guy at the kiosk sadly declared that it was 15kg over the weight allowance and that I would have to pay an additional cost of £150 - a third of the cost of my actual flight!
I was kicking myself for not weighing it properly, but I reluctantly reached for my credit card, resigned to taking the financial hit. Suddenly, the kiosk guy pulled me aside and whispered “you got any cash?”
I was about to say ‘no’ when I remembered the envelope in my bag with an emergency $250.
“Only dollars,” I whispered, replicating his intensity.
“$60. Meet me around the back in five.” He promptly marked my bag as ‘low weight’ and sent it down the belt.
I was slightly confused - stunned by this casual corruption so early in the morning - but I was also thinking, God, did I just save £100? I walked around the corner and sure enough, the man was lurking under a bank of security cameras. I slid him the $60 as inconspicuously as possible, then crept away like James Bond.
Except… I looked less like 007 and more like a fugitive experiencing an active panic attack. I spent the rest of my time at the gate sweating through my clothes, convinced SWAT would find me. This panic continued to the plane, and for the whole journey I found myself fixated on the idea that US border control would deny me entry for single-handedly undermining the British aviation industry.
Crossing the Atlantic
On the flight, I watched Hamnet to calm my nerves which was a massive mistake. I don’t even think the film is that amazing, but I wept and wept, so much so that the poor woman next to me was probably grateful for the empty middle seat separating us. But the crying was cathartic (and maybe needed), and by the time we touched down in New York I felt a lot better.
Border security was surprisingly fine. The officer was cracking jokes, which completely threw me after hours of imagining a federal prison cell. He let me through without much questioning. Sweaty, disheveled, and weighed down by a 35kg suitcase, my fiddle, and a giant backpack, I had somehow made it.
I made my way to my temporary home in Brooklyn. A friend (of a friend of a friend) had offered to put me up for a few nights. All I knew was that I’d be staying with two women who were originally from Tipperary. I rolled up to the flat, drenched in sweat, and within five minutes of meeting them, realised we all spoke Irish. My 24-hour-sleep-deprived brain nearly imploded trying to translate, but it still brought me a bit of home comfort.
Finding a rhythm
On my first ‘real’ day in New York, I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, picked up my student ID card, and did a little interview for RnaG. That evening, I went to a BAFTA networking event and met an amazing Irish filmmaker and two screenwriters from NYU.
The next day, I walked the bridge again to meet my course convenor and sort out a few admin bits. By day three, I was burnt out and ended up watching Sterling Point for most of the day - maybe not the high-brow cinema I should be consuming, but very bingeable (plus it features an up-and-coming Scottish actor so not entirely irrelevant).
After a lazy day in the flat, I decided to head out for a walk, ignoring my flatmate’s advice to take an umbrella. I got caught in torrential rain and wind. It was magical for the first half hour until I had to take refuge in a ramen shop. The owner felt so sorry for me - dripping all over his floor - that he gave me a warm cup of tea. I now know that I was walking in a Tornado - yes, those happen in New York, so maybe next time I’ll heed local advice.
Settling into Brooklyn
By Friday, I was back out at a film networking event in Brooklyn, searching for a producer and cinematographer to collaborate with - this event is a great way to meet other filmmakers. On Saturday, I moved to my second temporary home; a lovely Brooklyn house with an equally lovely host and four dogs (although I think I overwhelmed her with my over-optimistic take on American politics).
Since then, I’ve been logging 20,000 steps a day, exploring massive thrift warehouses, and visiting the Brooklyn Museum (which is free with my SVA card - the Iris Van Herpen exhibition is incredible).
I’ll be in Brooklyn until next Friday when I finally move into my permanent place in Manhattan. Until then, I’m leaning into being a Brooklyn Baby and hanging out in Prospect Park.
I’ve yet to spot Mamdani on a bike... but I’m here for a year, so there’s still plenty of time!