New York on My Mind

Early in the week I decided that I wanted to try one of those cheesy New York bus tours. You know the ones: double-decker buses, with the open-seating tops that the tourists flock to. Yes, those. So yesterday, my friend Troy and I went on said tour, and - for the day - became tourists ourselves of a city we both currently live in.

New York is like no city I've ever been to before, and (correct me if I'm wrong), like no other city in the world. The architecture is incredible. The pace is vibrant. And the history oozes at every turn.

I think I described it best in my first post about the city: it pulses. There's no other way to put it.

Two of my favorite things about the city involves bicycles: the bicycle delivery boys (food of your choosing, anytime, anywhere) and the bicycle tours. The bike tours - or pedicabs as they're called in the city - are everywhere. A New York Times article I read a while ago called it the "only true bohemian line of work left in America." There's something romantic about the old-fashioned act of pedalling around such an urban and modern place like New York. It's simplistic. I like that.

While I continue to acclimate myself to the city each day, I have settled into a comfortable schedule at TENNIS. Friday afternoon, Billie Jean King, the single most influential woman in all of tennis history, stopped by our magazine office for an interview with one of our writers. (For more Billie, click here.)

She came in with a small entourage - an assistant named Roberta - and the writer greeted them at the door. The writer asked if Billie Jean would enjoy a short tour of the office - I guess she had never been there before. She obliged, and so the tour began.

As the writer approached my desk (mine is the first in a small series of cubicles) I tried not too look too busy; too young; too nervous. But the writer just made her way past my desk, then, as they turned the corner, she said (almost as an afterthought) "That's Nick, the intern." Inside, I was laughing. It was a classic intern moment - something I should have been ready for.

And, for the most part, I was. I stood up and stuck my hand in Billie Jean's path. "It's great to meet you," I said. We made brief eye contact and she proceeded. Ceremony over. Intern out of the way.

Now I love all my co-workers, I really do. This is an incredible magazine with a small, tight-knit group of hard-working individuals. But it's instances like that that will stick in my mind forever. When I find myself as a journalist - somewhere, someday - I'll make sure to be remember such moments and do my best not only to make that intern, new employee or whomever feel bigger than life...not just like a fly on the wall.

Or will I? I certainly hope so. Now, Wimbledon tomorrow...