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I have left the love of my life indefinitely, but it doesn’t mean that we’re broken up.  Let’s just say, we’re seeing other people.  Or, I’m seeing other people.  After all, they say the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody else.

That’s right; New York and I are on a break.  I’ll be back sooner or later, but in the mean time, I’m going to be cheating on New York City with Orlando, New Orleans, Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon, Los Angeles and San Francisco.

I’m going to be spending the remainder of May road trippin’ across the country with five of my favourite people.  I’m flying down to sunny Florida and meeting the gang, and then, after visiting The Wizarding World of Harry Potter, we’re driving to the jazz capital of the world, New Orleans.  We’re flying from New Orleans to Las Vegas, where, after one wild night on the strip, we’ll be camping in the Grand Canyon, rollerblading down the Venice Beach boardwalk and ending our trip in San Francisco, a city I’ve had a crush on for years.

I spent my teenage years obsessing over the transformative road trips I’d read about in books (On the Road by Jack Kerouac, Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson) and seen in films (Magic Trip, Little Miss Sunshine, Thelma and Louise, True Romance, Y Tu Mama Tambien, The Motorcycle Diaries, Badlands, Into the Wild).  I can’t believe that after all those logged hours of wanderlust, I’m finally going on my own road trip.

This three week-long trip is going to be the grand finale of my great American adventure, and I think it’s safe to say, I have never been more excited for anything in my entire life.

I’ll be sharing my adventures with you on my return.  In the meantime, I invite you to join me in spirit by pressing play below.

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I can’t imagine getting sick of this city.

No matter how many times I see that Manhattan skyline, it never gets old.  I have had some of the most magical, memorable experiences of my life, let alone my semester abroad, in New York City.  Last time I wrote about New York, I wrote about how an ordinary, insignificant day was turned into something special by nothing more than the New York air.  Little did I know that that small, special afternoon was a primer for the next trip I would take into the city; a trip I’d been planning for weeks, a trip that Clare and I had been referring to for several weeks as “Big NYC Weekend”.

I arrived in New York on Friday afternoon, pressed for time and anxious that I wouldn’t make my manicure appointment.  First World Problems?  Perhaps.  I made it downtown to the Lower East Side in record time, to find the nail salon calm and serene, a quiet oasis in this bustling city.  A sweet girl gave me the most thorough, precise manicure I’ve ever had, and it only cost me $10!  After 45 minutes of affordable luxury, I headed to my favourite bookstore in the city, McNally Jackson, an independent bookstore in NoLita.  For dinner.  Of course, left to my own devices, I would end up eating in a literature-themed café.  I shared a table with a native New Yorker, who gave me some useful subway directions, and one soup/sandwich combo later, I made my way back up to Midtown.

A couple of weeks prior, my friend had informed me that writer-director Jason Reitman’s L.A.-based “Live Read” project was making its way to New York.  I immediately booked a ticket, but unfortunately said friend wasn’t quite quick enough, and so I ended up going alone.  I joined the queue inside the TimesCenter, giddy with excitement. I spotted Olivia Wilde (who, despite being a Famous Person, didn’t get to skip the queue!), looking blonde and perfect.  I sat in the front row, next to a friendly, dreadlocked screenwriter called “Damien”, and discussed teenage clichés and collegiate experiences and terrible movies.  How is it that all of the New Yorkers I’ve encountered are such great conversationalists?

The Live Read itself was fucking cool; a plethora of Famous People, including Emma Stone, Paul Rudd, Jason Sudeikis, Greta Gerwig, Tom Cavanagh, Cara Buono, David Wain and James Woods performed a dramatic reading of Billy Wilder’s The Apartment.  Greta Gerwig’s impeccable comic timing was my highlight of the evening, and comedienne Emma Stone’s performance proved surprisingly emotive and measured.  It was a one-off event and a pretty memorable New York experience, especially for a self-proclaimed cinephile like me.

I walked across the street to the bus terminal, wondering if this weekend could get any better, convinced that such a feat would be impossible, shaking my head at my own good fortune.