New York, New York: a city so nice they named it twice... Manhattan is the other name.

This is the true story of four Texas girls living in a studio apartment in New York City. Names have been abbreviated to protect the innocent.

After arriving in the city with baggage weighing 78, 67 and 65 pounds, respectively, KR, AV and I have finally moved in and gotten settled in MK’s apartment. MK’s baggage weight could not be accounted for because she is actually at work, unlike the rest of us dead-beat dads (as we now affectionately refer to ourselves.) We have taken the time to enjoy the amenities her place has to offer, most specifically the spectacular view from the corner studio, as featured in my photo…what you don’t hear is the ambulance sirens, cab honking, fire-truck engines plowing through traffic, chainsaws, loud noises, and unnecessary commotion. The lax security is also a bonus, considering that they give us her room keys and mail without so much as an I.D. check or a nod.

So how did we get here? Glad you asked. Well MK, the working girl, actually works in Dallas, but was sent to New York for a few months for job training. KR, AV and I have all considered and dreamed of living here, so when she offered to house us during her stay here, we took her up on it. The four of us are currently rotating use of Ethernet cord in the apartment, after throwing in the towel with the Starbucks locations on Third Avenue… if you only knew. Starbucks here translates to dinky closet crammed with two barstools and iPod- wearing business-people all wanting ‘the usual.’

We are now getting acquainted with the different areas of the city- it’s a huge puzzle of neighborhoods that all blend together, yet have their own distinct personality. KR returns to the apartment daily with ‘Orphan Annie feet;’ looking as though she spends her days roaming the subway tracks with bare feet and kicking puddles of dirty water on her way home.

Our job search continues daily- but in the meantime we are maintaining a steady diet of PBJ’s, cheap pizza and cereal. One almost universal truth I have noticed is that people in New York are not overweight, (albeit many of them smoke) and everyone is active. This past Sunday afternoon we strolled through Central Park and eventually found a shaded park bench to watch joggers and roller-bladers. Instead of participating in the aerobic activity, we made up scenarios for the people passing by us. Our joy was made complete when a late 50’s-ish man teetered down the hill we were sitting near, and despite desperately grasping his wife’s elbow, crashed to the pavement.

AV and I are eating blackberries…only the essentials here. I wish there was a way of telling which ones are sweet and which ones sour, the suspense is brutal.

So after nearly a week in the city, our adventures have included tuxedo-wearing room service at a swanky hotel, the U.S. Open, Washington (and Brooklyn) Heights apartments, the end of fashion week, three interviews, three girls and 17+ bags stuck in an elevator, the most expensive carton of milk any of us have ever seen, Texas A&M football knowledge via the scroll at the bottom of ESPN and whatever USA Today publishes, and seasons one and half of two of The Office.

Okay, the blackberries were abandoned for hummus and carrots, much better. Since we spent $11 each to see The Nanny Diaries this afternoon, we might not be eating later. Maybe that’s how the women here stay so skinny- they run out of money.

And that’s only week one.