This post was contributed by Robert Backus.
Moving to a new place can be overwhelming, but hopefully my story puts your struggles into perspective. I not only moved to a city that I had never visited before, I moved to the largest, buzziest, and most vibrant city in the United States, New York City. My ancestors had traveled the Oregon Trail for months in order to find success in the Wild West. I reversed their entire journey with a 5-hour red eye flight.
The hardest and most ridiculously expensive part was now over, I had found an apartment and signed the lease a month prior. After waiting on the sidewalk for over an hour with all my luggage, and receiving multiple smirks from passerby, my landlord finally arrived to hand over the keys.
I hiked up to my floor, but before I entered my new place, a man waiting outside my neighbor’s door asked, “Were you the one who called the exterminator?”
Not quite sure what this symbolized, I said no, and rushed into a place smaller than many walk-in closets. Up to this point, my mom had been extremely helpful, albeit a mental wreck, but it was at this moment it all came falling down. She took a photo of the apartment with me undressing in the background and wrote “It’s so small!!!” (the apartment that is). She sent it off to who she thought was my dad, but accidentally sent it to my new landlord. I snagged her phone to try and limit the damage, but I couldn’t stop laughing. I was mentally and physically exhausted, and it was only 9 am.
I blew up the air mattress and took a much needed nap.
What have I gotten myself into?
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