Recently my art studio class and I traveled to New York for the day to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Forum Gallery, and The Illustrators Society Gallery.

Having been to New York many times since I first went in sixth grade I fell more and more in love with the city.

When we arrived in New York and began driving through the city a rush of excitement rushed through my body. I watched the livelihood of the designer stores past my eyes with every blink. Valentino, Gucci, and Channel were plastered in big bold letters.

Suddenly, everything seemed so small in such a big city. The buildings towered over the people as they walked across the street. The beautiful buildings with all different purposes sat in the city perfectly. People in long coats and designer hand bags with small dogs walked in and out of the local Starbucks.

The people in New York City is what really caught my eye. You have the runner who wears LuLuelemon and runs with their Pomeranian, the guy with the extremely long coat and a cup of coffee in his hand and a briefcase in the other, late to work for the fourth time this week, and the mom with too many kids in counting, rushing them to get to school on time.

Then you have the tourist, me. When we arrived at the Metropolitan my group and I walked in to the museum and began to look at the modern art. Walking around slowly I examined the strokes that the artist used to paint such a well-known painting. My group and I walked through different rooms examining sculptures, pottery, self-portraits, with all different mediums, acrylic, oil, and water color.

As we were about to leave the unexpected happened, I met Helena Bonham Carter. She was walking with her mother through the museum. She had her arm tucked into her mother’s as they walked side by side glancing at the art. I zipped through the sculpture exhibit and modern art exhibit to try and catch up with her.

When I finally caught up to her I began hysterically crying. I tapped her on the shoulder, as she turned around I asked her if she was indeed THE Helena Bonham Carter and she replied with “yes, I am.” I greeted her and she did as well as she turned back to the different exhibits once again. This 15 second conversation made my day. I called one of my close friends Anna Jerrems (’18) and began to break down in sobs on the phone.

Walking through the streets, the sun peaked out behind the buildings, the chilled wind sent goose bumps up my spine, but I didn’t mind. This is the one place that never got old, this was the place that made me thrive, and this was the place that I never wanted to leave.

As the sun went down and the streets became dark we walked along 65 avenue with sore feet, searching for the bus to take back home. The streets were blocked due to protests in front of the Trump Tower. Members in my group were nervous about the protests but I was in awe.

It made me think that this is actually happening, these people were actually protesting and it was so much more real than the news. This was actually happening and to actually see these people reacting was insane.

On the bus ride back to the Monkton park and ride I reflected back on my visit. New York was the liveliest, most thrilling, extravagant city that I had ever been to.