The first time I went to New York City, I learned how different the Big Apple is than the little city of Auburn. I was about 7 the first time my dad brought me to New york. This was the first of many more visits to the Big Apple. I fell in love with all things New York, but it didn’t start that way. It was a foggy dim morning in March, when we were off on the boat to see the greatest city in the world.

Me and my 14 year-old sister were so excited to see what the city had to offer us. Our dad told us we must take the ferry so we could go right by the statue of liberty. We waited a while to get on the boat. The cold day drew most people inside, but not me and my sister. We stood at the front of the boat watch for the big green lady. Our coats did a fine job of keeping our arms warm, but the wind colored our cheeks like two ripe tomatoes. I held my disposal camera tight in anticipation. my dad stood behind my sister, and I, and pointed, “shes right there,” he said. I had to squint real hard to see her copper body through the fog. As we got closer to the statue I could see her more clearly, while we float closer to the city skyline. I took only a couple pictures making sure to save the rest for the city.

Stepping into the city for the first time was like a slap to the face. I had never seen so many people in my life. The smells of garbage, gasoline, and hotdogs hit me all at once. It was close to lunch time when we arrived, my dad insisted on trying pizza from Brooklyn. He promised it would be the best pizza we had ever had. We walk and walk and walked some more, until we had to rest. We decided to take the metro. It was crowded. More crowded than I was comfortable with. I sat hip to hip with two strangers while my sister and father stood wobbling, holding onto a pole. Once the lady next to me got off I set my hand down and curled it around the bench, only to get my fingers tangled in chewed gum. We got off the subway and stepped on the streets. My feet are still aching in my dirty pink snow boots. I look up from my old boots right as a women with stilettos the size of the buildings here, steps right on my toes, and walked away without a word of concern. Now I'm grumpy. I want to go home but I say nothing to my dad, he loves the city too much. I just want food to calm my grumbling stomach.

Once we got to the pizza place we ordered a medium pepperoni pizza. The brown cardboard box was warm as I reached in for a steamy, gooey slice of pizza. The crust was thinner than I was used to, and the slice was as big as my 7 year-old face. My dad told me to fold the pizza in half so it wasn't so messy. I took the first bite. It was delicious, but I wouldn't say it was worth the wait, and I'm sure it tasted that much better because I was so hungry. I would say this wasn’t the best trip to the city, but it was my first of many, many of which I learned to love. I ended up loving the crowds and the smell of hotdogs on every street corner along with the vendors yelling “Come get your fresh hot, hot dogs!” I love the city when the lights go up for Christmas the most; it's so beautiful. The atmosphere of a bigger city is a breath of fresh air from such a small city like ours.