Summer 2001

Although most of my Caribbean-American family had left New York City for the tropical warmth of Miami, I chose to live my best, young, and single life in the Big Apple. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else at the time. I needed the energy and excitement that could only come from the greatest city in the world which, lucky for me, also happened to be where I was born. My decision to stay had required little deliberation. It was convenient and perfect.

Summer 2001 proved pivotal in many ways. After months of practice, that July, I played my first DJ gig at a hot spot in the East Village. I also gave my number to the coolest guy I’d met in a while that night. Within a few days of meeting, we had dinner at a Tunisian restaurant on the Upper West Side. Like everyone else in New York, he was all about his career. He was very busy finishing up law school, working for a prestigious law firm, and writing for international law journals. To top it off, he had to go to Indonesia for work soon and would be returning in a month… Of course, he was, right? Annoyed, but hopeful, I went on with my life. In August, I’d been recommended by a good DJ friend to record vocals on an avant-garde song for an independent music label. I’d heard so much about the respected DJ/producer duo and was happy to be chosen to be a part of it. 

 By the time September rolled around, I was in a budding relationship. New guy had found his way back from Indonesia, and we were spending as much time together as possible. Going on dates, exploring the city, and discovering each other. Also, the obscure record label was about to release the first vinyl pressings for the world to hear. Plus, I had a somewhat creative and leading-edge day job that I enjoyed going to everyday, while I pursued dreams in my downtime.

As far as I was concerned, I’d found the perfect balance of needs and wants, of desire and practicality. To say I was beaming in the months and weeks leading up to that crucial day would be a bit of an understatement.