Refreshed from our post-classes nap, our group of ambitious journalists sought adventure in Times Square. There, we explored H & M, a semi-cheap clothing store that resembles Old Navy and Forever 21. Following the purchase of a new wardrobe, we went where any group of mature teenagers would go; Toys ‘R Us. Once gawking at the Ferris wheel became dull, we proceeded to spoil our dinners on a sugar overload at the M&M store.
After we secured our image as typical tourists by purchasing multiple “I (heart) NY” shirts, we traveled through Chinatown to Little Italy. The food was wonderful, and the waiters kindly put up with our photography frenzy, as we all took at least fifty pictures in various locations of the restaurant. What do you do when you are stuffed full of spaghetti and Italian bread? Easy answer, you get dessert. The students who craved the health benefits of frozen yogurt with fruit went to Pink Berry. Pink Berry is a little frozen yogurt store that is basically Jamba Juice on ice. The frozen yogurt can be served with various fruit toppings and even cookies and cream to appease those who reject fruit for a dessert. In my opinion, the damage of carbohydrate overload from dinner could not be forgiven by eating healthily for dessert, so I took the plunge and found a piece of cake.

Exhausted from the eventful evening, we headed back to the subway in pursuits of our hotel. We had a minor setback when the wrong train kept coming to our station; we needed train B, but every other letter in the alphabet arrived except that one. Finally a woman informed us that she too has been waiting for B for over half an hour. We managed to solve the issue by altering our train route a little, but the overall frustration of the experience was life-scarring. On a few occasions, we learned to avoid eye contact with homeless people, begging for our donations. One woman stepped on to our subway and made a speech claiming that she knew we were all ignoring her, but she just wanted something to eat. She said she would rather plea for our money on the train than sell herself or hurt someone. Relatively immune to the homeless people’s pleas, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly sad for this woman. Even if it was a scam, she seemed very well rehearsed or even, dare I say it, genuine.

Shaking off the homeless woman and her effective speech, we made it back to the hotel and welcomed the warmth of our beds. One must always remember that, even in the darkest of times, there is light at the end of the tunnel. Although, in our case, that light is most likely the teasing humor of the wrong subway train.

Junior Jenny Davenport
Assistant Editor
Hillcrest Hurricane

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