The landing is always the worst part of a flight. As I sat in 33D, the very last row of the giant US Airways plane, my knuckles cramped from my extreme grip on the armrest. My stomach flip-flopped with every jostle.
The plane was headed to New York City, my new home for the next three months. My internship with a national women’s magazine starts bright and early Monday morning. The twenty-minute train ride will bring me right into Grand Central Station, followed by a cheap subway ride, an expensive taxi drive, or a long walk that will take me to the Hearst Building. My days will be spent researching for articles, working on projects, and minimal busy work. When I'm not exploring the editorial world, I'll be movie star watching and eating pretzels in Central Park. And possibly even drinking coffee on the steps of the Met (Shout out to all you Gossip Girl fans!).
My nerves constrict whenever I think about walking into the building on the first day. For a few weeks, I’ll be the only intern. While this may work in my favor in the long run, I’ll have no one to eat lunch with! (Of course, this is my main concern.)
I’m thousands of miles away from home in North Carolina, living in a family member’s basement, and working for one of the most prominent and well-respected magazines in the editorial world. What could go wrong?
PS: To hear what happens next, check in on Monday!