Op-Ed: I Interned in NYC This Summer. Let Me Tell You About It

Sorry, not to interrupt whatever you were saying. I’m sure it was really interesting. But I interned in New York this summer. Let me tell you about it. 

It was great and I learned a lot about myself and living in the world…actually, it was super depressing. I took pictures on the Brooklyn Bridge once but actually hated the whole experience. I’m not a big fan of walking, or bridges. Or Brooklyn.

While living in my 12 square foot studio, I interned at a crypto startup–you wouldn’t know it–where I perfected the art of filing. One week in June, I watched all the iCarly reruns I could pirate and made Gigi Hadid’s spicy vodka pasta–it was exhilarating. 

I did a bit of sight-seeing during my time to really immerse myself in the local culture. My friend from summer camp took me to this hidden gem in Midtown with big billboards and flashing lights. The name escapes me. Afterward, I got ice cream at Momofuku for my Instagram story, but I’m lactose intolerant so I threw it in the trash. One evening, I went to a dog park for the vibes–the Uber to East Village was too expensive and I never figured out the subway. 

Before my filing job got too crazy, I went downtown a bit, and was disappointed by the lack of guinea pigs in the Meatpacking District. How hard is it to get premium gerbil on the East Coast? In my lack-of-gerbil fury, I was crossing the street and yelled at a taxi, because it could definitely hear me. Sidenote: “I’m walking here” doesn’t have the same ring to it when you have a Midwestern accent.  

As for my love life…it was dismal. I had a few disappointing Hinge dates. One guy didn’t pick up the tab and another guy, upon receiving the bill, balled it up, ate it, and spit it back on his plate as a dessert offer. It was cute. 

After July, though, things got weird. 

I was feeling spontaneous one night and did meth in Washington Square Park with my plug, Derrick. He’s a junior at NYU and pretends to know how to skateboard. When I was walking back to my apartment, I got spat on by a furry and kinda liked it. There was one day I fell through a manhole cover and ended up in Jersey. That was bizarre. 

Once, I saw a homeless man outside a subway entrance wiping his ass, so I helped because it’s good to give back. Speaking of giving back, I let somebody massage me once in front of an Italian restaurant. It was the best massage of my life, but I got home that night and didn’t have my wallet. That was the end of my charitability.

In New York City, there’s a million things to do, but only like five if you’re a semi-broke college student working at a startup with a degree in gender studies. Once you’ve spent enough time in THE city, you get a feel for the place, truly. But the one thing I never really got used to was the garbage on the street. Seriously, what’s up with that?