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The More Things Change

Ten years ago, I turned thirty. In my first year as a 30-something in New York, terrorists attacked the country, I co-founded a business, and Dad tried to kill someone again.

September 11th from our Roof by kambricrews

I moved to New York City in the fall of 2000. I knew one person. I entered my thirties to little fanfare. After finishing the work day as a legal assistant, I enjoyed a few drinks with co-workers at the Rink Bar, the outdoor restaurant in Rockefeller Center that serves as the infamous ice skating rink during cooler months.

Afterwards, I headed home to Queens on the N train where a tiny Latino man assaulted me under my skirt. His height topped out at my waist, at best*; an excellent access point if you’re prone to fingering slightly buzzed women on public transit. Being from Texas and new to the city, I sized up my assailant and chose fight over flight. I ran after him freely spewing vile curses and threats to his life while wearing my 3.5 inch heels. I was double his size with a fury in my eyes.

He looked positively terrorized that I’d given chase.

The strangers around me looked positively terrorized that I’d used such vile language.

In his desperate attempt to escape, he pushed people aside and jumped a turnstile, losing me.**

A decade has passed and the goals I’ve accomplished and wildest dreams that have come true are too numerous to count. I’ve pinched myself silly. I ain’t dreamin’. I blinked and now I’m forty. The next ten years has a lot to live up to. I mean, in my thirties, Erik Estrada was involved. Twice.

Still in New York City, I know more than one person now, but again celebrated a milestone of life with little fanfare. I’ve never been the birthday bash type. I guess I prefer producing fun for other people. But it was very special and spent with my favorite people without assaults by any miniature men.

I don’t know much, but I do that in my first year as a 40-something, I will celebrate five years of marriage, my memoir will be published and Dad will be up for parole.

The rest is a mystery. And isn’t that the most thrilling and frightening thing ever?

Kambri
*In his defense, I was wearing heels.
**To this day, I wish I had caught him. It’s probably for the best that I didn’t.

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