Existential Angst in Brooklyn
Or do I just need to eat?
How to Build a Life is a newsletter for people bang in the thick of life’s mess and mayhem, who are still trying to find the magic. It’s written by me, Laura Jane Williams, author of 12 (!) books. I’m almost 40, a solo parent by choice, decorate my house like a tart’s boudoir, and lift very heavy weights. Those four things are my entire personality.
My latest rom-com is Enemies to Lovers, and I am the author of teen series Taylor Blake is a Legend too.
Friday
8.05am. Going to New York for the weekend!!! Wedding invite in hand, childcare arranged, vibes mood-boarded. Fit to burst. Just need to pack.
9.06am. Amazed everything fits in hand luggage. Wonder how Gods will punish me for such good fortunes. Almost forget to pack passport, then realise haven’t got US visa. Shit self because emergency online application comes back as “pending” and have to leave house. Spend whole drive to airport planning worst-case scenarios - if can’t go to America, fuck it, will get a flight somewhere else. Am not wasting weekend of childcare and new red lipstick. But! Visa gets approved right as park car. Phew.
11.40am. Checked in, through security, in fancy lounge with Diet Coke and pasta pesto. Heart racing. Nervousness, excitement, caffeine? Am unsure. Perhaps all of the above. Mildly on the verge of tears. Fitting, since reputation amongst group of pals at wedding is one of “emotion sickness”. Hi, it’s me, Laura, a walking feeling.
2.30pm. Boarded. Holy moly, so many good movies on this flight! Challengers! If! Fall Guy! Dune II! Have a row to self, too. Okay. Now is a vacation. Forgot how much love to fly: eating food whilst wearing face mask and watching film after film and maybe having little nap. Heaven. Seven hours of heaven. Maybe seven and a half as appear to be delayed.
5pm - forever. Made it! Immigration queues at JFK are international joke though. Why wouldn’t they put on a better show to welcome people?! Don’t get it! Even Manchester has e-gates now! Isn’t NYC supposed to be better than this?? Text pals: delayed by eternity, not to be dramatic. Spoiler: do mean to be dramatic. Am tired and smell and wanted shower before meet-up. Urgh.
7pm. Pass a funeral home called “Ponce” on the way to the hotel.
7.40pm. Jack has a beer waiting in hotel lobby. Catch Vanilla Toes lurking outside. Check in and launch into reunion gossip session with gusto. Worked in Italy with everyone, at summer camps, for four years of my twenties. Was my “college years” really - was time of lives, and knew so as they happened. Special. Rare. Life-changing.
8.05pm. Discuss how have never met the bride before! Jack has, says is lovely, is very kind, is very beautiful: in short, very what you’d hope for for your friend. Eat fries and drink beer and talk about shared memories until music gets too loud. Girl in belly chain and halter neck and unshaven armpits sits opposite, am horrified at the excess cool. We leave to make room for Gen Z, as should be.