5-inch Heels & the E Train...

Heels, walking and the train? It’s just not happening. I think someone forgot to send out the memo. It should have been the first woman that was going to a meeting or an event. She wanted to be cute but she had a 10 minute walk and an hour and a half train ride in NYC. Why didn’t she give us a tutorial on how to shamelessly replace your flats with your heels before an event? Red bottoms or no red bottoms, no one wants to ride the train or walk NYC in heels. I don’t care how cute I must be for the evening. I'm so excited to go to this event that I just had to be fashionable. I debate. It starts with possibly changing the complete look. Could I, Ariel Samone, go to this release party with all of these important people, be impressive and not wear heels? I’m sure someone else could pull it off, but could I? I laugh. I know the answer is a solid, “NO”! But still, out of pure desperation, I contemplate on a cute pair of ankle booties or an open toe sandal and it just doesn't do my fashion taste buds justice. I look like a teenager trying too hard. Then, I have the audacity to be illy prepared. I already knew I was going to have to carry the heels and wear the flip-flops. I dreaded it; I didn't even have a cute pair of flats and I'm now pressed for time. Almost two hours looking crazy because the flip-flops I have on are just not doing my outfit justice. I'm on the train now and I feel like everyone is judging my cute dress and my less than cute flip-flops. I forgot about this part of New York. I had been in Charlotte and DC so long that I was used to driving and changing my shoes in the car. The luxury of being able to drive and find parking was gone too. 

A few moments into the train ride it dawns on me. I’m going to a release party where people will be outside, inside, and around the block possibly waiting to get in. And I’m going to be wearing flip flops as I approach? Ladies, it’s that awkward moment when you think about changing your heels on the train but the person that has been sitting across from you the WHOLE ride from Sutphin blvd to Canal St. would judge the mess out of you. I wasn’t in the mood. So, I go for option number two. I get off the train, walk towards the venue, approach the venue, that’s right… you know it, I walk pass the venue to a little nook on the busiest intersection of Canal St. and Chambers St. and I decided to shamelessly put on my cute heels. By this time, I was over it. One woman, with her husband and child, looked me in the eyes and I knew she was saying, “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there”. In my mind I screamed, “Well why didn’t it get passed down in oral history for all of us young girls from NY to learn!?” I then bag my flip-flops, tuck them in my purse and rounded the corner to the venue. I walk pass a gentleman that made eye contact with me before I grew 5 inches. I walk into the spot and as many would guess everyone is wearing everything but heels! I see custom sneakers, sandals, maybe a cute wedge, if that. All of that for a cute outfit, 5 inch heels  and and a night to remember. 

New York, Nice To Meet You!

So I’m back! I am overwhelmed and I am “bright eyed and bushy tailed”, as they like to call it. I have that “tourist air” to me. I know this because I’m stopping my conversations to enjoy break dancers and listening to the guitarist that bombards everyone’s ear on the train because we simply don’t feel like switching cars. New York has that new car smell except not so new, of course. And I have to learn the subway all over again. Oh yeah, I have Similac on the tongue. Anyway, I’m getting reacquainted with the subway, spending double fare when I should have just transferred and telling people who ask for directions “I don’t know”, not because I don’t want to be bothered, but because I really don’t know. Yes, I am going through those awkward moments of taking the time out to listen to fundraisers on the street and actually getting caught up in the sales pitch. The best time was when a stranger that was blind asked me how to get to his location and I felt obligated to walk him there. You would have thought that I wasn’t born and raised here. I mean truly raised here. I think back to the days when I used to go to work with my dad, a motorman for transit; I knew NY like the back of my hand. Now, I was triple checking signage and praying that I didn’t get on the number trains going the wrong way. For those of you who don’t know, the number trains are dusty, old and haven’t been changed to the trains with the nice screens that update every stop. I complained for weeks about the hour and half train ride to and from the city. I apologized to my friends in advance. And I waited on the Q5 on the weekend like an idiot. Who does that? Oh, the best was when I got on the J train and saw my long-lost cousin! That’s when I knew I was officially back. All of this excitement, readiness, deep breath in, deep breath out, motivation, anxiety and anticipation because I’m an actress. I’m an actress back in the big city that she remembers in her subconscious and it’s slowly working its way back up to her frontal lobe. All of this because I believe. I truly believe in little ol’ me. I believe that I can do it, this acting thing. I’m back New York. Hi! My name is Ariel Samone. I’m The Little Actress That Could. Nice to meet you…again.