Pressing PAUSE.... the place of the in-between

A place considered a "dirty nightmare" is the spot I chose; good old Penn Station. Although the stench of Penn Station is off-putting, I feel the most connected to myself here. When inside this underground dungeon I am overwhelmed by emotions. I find memories, sentiment, and hopes I have safely tucked away in the heart of Penn Station. I feel like as human beings, we leave little bits and pieces of ourselves in unlikely places. We can't carry the burden of every emotion or experience we have had, so we hide them in places, books, songs, and other people. I find much of myself each time I return to Penn Station, especially after being removed from it for a couple of weeks.

There is something so extreme about Penn Station that makes it so endearing to me. I observe the extremes of lifestyle within a matter of minutes. Its a place where I love to make up stories about the people I see and try to figure out where I fit into their lives (or don't). It's where I first discovered my sense of independence and purpose. I have always known I am a New Yorker at heart. All my life I could wake up at 5:15 to hear my Dad tiptoeing around and readying himself for work. Before grabbing his keys I would hear the "clink" of the breakfast dishes being placed in the sink and his fast footsteps to be sure to make his train. He'd drive to the train station and transition to his New York life. I lived for the days when I could tag along on "take your daughter to work day" or on a day that my mom would take me and my siblings in to enjoy the city. Something about New York feels so right to me.

When my parents and I decided freshmen year that I could take ballet classes at a school in New York on the Upper West Side I could not have been happier. The whole week I looked forward to the train rides, subway adventures, and walks through the hustle and bustle of Lincoln Center. There was so much to see and so little time! I'd begrudgingly get back to the reality of highschool and all its components on the train ride home. I get reminded of my young self every now and again while sitting in Penn Station. I watch young teenagers thrilled to be in Penn Station buying candy from Hudson News or taking a cab to whichever destination they have (because they'd have no idea how to get there any other way). It seems so glamorous and exciting to them, and was overly shiny and glamorous to me. Its that anxious, hungry, and limitless attitude that I like to remember when I'm sitting, exhausted in Penn Station waiting for that 11:11 train to board. After a long day of high school followed by traveling into the city for rehearsal or class only to return was exhausting, but SO incredible! I would never in a million years trade that for a more ordinary high school experience. Some people may think I missed out on some high school experiences…. I see it differently. I allowed myself to do what I was DYING TO do.

Penn Station acted as my buffer between these two very different worlds. It was like being in neutral territory. Hours upon hours of sitting in this place of the in-between has provided me time to think, reflect, and scheme. Right on 34th Street, Pennsylvania Station would be considered at the heart of the midtown hustle, yet I considered it a home base of sorts. Throughout the past four years, I would attend dance performances as much as possible. I just associate that feeling of pure inspiration and desire to dance with sitting in Penn Station. Utterly overwhelmed and ready to dance the next morning, my friday nights following performances made Penn Station a place to think about my goals and future. It made things seem limitless….

Energy is pouring out of each traveler. Its like this intangible electrical buzz that has everyone in the station moving and going. Very different people; different hopes, desires, and lifestyles all coexisting together. Collectively this pack of characters all are trying to achieve the same goal; getting somewhere… both physically and conceptually. This place has its cast of characters. The man sitting next to me speaking Spanish on the phone. The man standing at attention tapping his toes waiting for the train (because God forbid we New Yorkers wait for anything). The woman with a Prada purse and a briefcase drinking a soda from McDonalds. A man who sits oblivious, playing on his kindle with a beer in his hand and popcorn balanced on his feet. Where do I fit in? I don't, but that's Penn Station for you. That's New York for you. I was always so entertained by the looks I got from business women while I stood in the NJTRANSIT concourse with my bun on top of my head and a highlighter in my hand trying to read Shakespeare for english the following morning. The novelty of being unknown in Penn Station never wears off. Its exciting to see yourself mixed in with a group of new people each day. Or observe the same man on your train three times in one week.

Penn Station resonates with the me. It brings me back to my roots and reminds me why I am here and what my passion to dance is really fueled by. It iis a place of discovery and identity for me. Isn't that funny? The unlikeliest of places…