NYU, Here and Abroad Noelle Simon

I remember the first time, for better or worse, that I ever visited New York City. My parents decided it would be a great idea to road trip there (creating the basis of my hatred for long car rides). After two long, exhausting days of torturous confinement, we finally arrived in the magical city only to encounter our first (of many) dilemmas: finding the hotel. While driving through the sleek, organized streets in our 2009 Honda minivan, our little merry band of misfits from Texas discovered that we didn't really fit into the fast-paced, no-nonsense New York vibe. We ended up running over the curb of a huge Victoria's Secret store in Times Square, a mere 40 blocks from where our hotel actually was.

The next day, being the rebellious son of a gun I was, I decided I was going to tell my parents I was working out in the hotel while really going out and exploring the vast city. I mean, what could go wrong? I was 12, with no money or cell phone; I was practically invincible.

No, this story doesn’t end up with some scary police report saying I was kidnapped, or my getting lost in the city and having to hop a subway turnstile to get back. (For the record, I did eventually get caught by my father because, when we went to get breakfast...