The cheapest, easiest holiday of the year is now officially over. Here’s what it cost me.
I’d never cooked a turkey or made stuffing in my life, but I figured it was nothing the Internet couldn’t teach me how to do.
At the end of every December, a week before the real holiday madness begins to unfold, I pack my bags, give out a loud “See ya later, New York!” and hightail it out of America for a month, attempting with all of my might to avoid another frigid winter for as long as possible.
My grandpa collected $2 bills. We’d get them from him in birthday cards and at Christmas, and as my cousins and I got older, the dollar amounts grew and I had nearly forgotten about the tradition and how exciting it was to have currency so seldom seen in circulation.
I didn’t really understand the import of the food pantries and the free gift grab bags at the church, but I could sense the desperation of my mom’s situation.
There’s a phrase some city kids use to describe the suburban teenagers that flock to New York City on weekends: “bridge-and-tunnel kids.” It means uncool, unwelcome, poser, trying too hard. City kids head to subway stations and bus stops at the end of the night, but the B&T crowd retreats to the uncompromising fluorescent light of Penn Station to wait for the next train home.