My dad breaks open my white door and yells at me after turning on my lights.
“Ryan, time to wake up, you’ve got a big day ahead of you!”
I wake up groggily with my dad shoving me around inching my way to the bathroom to turn on the shower.  My muscles are weary, and the shower knob feels like a boulder I’m trying to turn.  I put in every last bit of my effort for ten seconds, until the shower turns on.  I reach my hand out under the stream of water and wait for it to heat up.  I step into the shower and feel the pressure against my face as I try to wake up.  My eyes are almost open so I start to lather myself up with my Old Spice body wash.  Before getting out, I turn the knob so that it is a couple centimeters from turning off.  It feels as cold as the Arctic Sea. My dad tells me it is good for me with recovery and it is a safe alternative to coffee to wake up.  Seconds later, I hear my dad yelling at me.
“Ryan, let’s go. It’s game time baby. C’mon.”
I reluctantly turn the knob easily now, and the shower is off.  I am cold and damp, and I grab the nearest towel hanging on the back of the white door leading to my bedroom.  I slowly dry off all the cold water. Once I’m dry, I take out my camera and take a picture in the mirror to ‘document my process’ as my dad calls it. Little does he know, I secretly take pictures of other beautiful objects, landscapes, sunsets, etc.  It has become a hobby and secret of mine I picked up when I was four and have enjoyed ever since.  I finish dazing off like I usually do every morning when I’m tired and don’t want to work out and I look at the time. It is 5:44 A.M.  I’m running late.  Hurriedly, as to not get my dad furious with me, I toss on my smelly workout clothes.  I run with my shoes untied down the long and curved staircase to the kitchen.  As always, I see my dad has already prepared breakfast.  Today, I notice I’m not eating as much as usual for breakfast.  There are two scrambled eggs, two pieces of toast, a banana, and a few glasses of water. It must be a rest day.  Thank God! I secretly sneak in a picture of my meal.  It gives me a rush because if my dad caught me he would absolutely lose it.  I also just sincerely enjoy taking pictures of pretty much anything.   I destroy the food, and I am running on time for my 5:50 A.M. workout. 
I slide my dishes in the dishwasher and head over to fetch my size 5 black nike shoes.  Every day I tie my shoes I take my time, not on purpose, just naturally.  I think about whether I should tie my shoes and work out, or tie my shoes and run away.  I can’t disappoint my dad.  I walk back downstairs to meet him for the workout.
I was dead wrong.  It was not an off day. 
At precisely 5:50 I go through a series of fat-burning, endurance, and agility workouts.  Every step of the way my dad is in my face screaming at me.
“Go harder!”
“You need to get stronger!“
Every time he yelled, I could feel spit sprayed all over my face.  I could see the rage in his face with his teeth clenched together, his nose forcefully scrunched into a ball, with a evil look in his eyes that can be felt more than be seen.  I felt every emotion a kid could possibly feel during these workouts. The only thing I didn’t feel was love. 
The workout ended, to no relief, because it was now time for me to head to school.  I sprint up the stairs as best I can to run away from any possibility of my father calling me back down for some extra sprints.  I trip on the last stair and slam my knee on the hardwood floor echoing a bang all through the house.
“You good, sport?” 
“All good dad, just doing a few extra jumping jacks.”
“Ok, well do some for me.  God knows I need ‘em.  Make sure you do some pushups too, your upper body's looking a little thin.”
Without doing a single jumping jack or push-up, I make my way to my room to get ready for school.  I close the door behind me and walk gingerly over to my laundry basket to strip off my sweat-drenched clothes.  It is 7:00 A.M. and I am still running on time for school with an hour to go until the bell.  Now, it is time for my second shower.  I am much more awake this time, yet I still stay as motionless as I did during the first one.  I can’t move my body.  Partly out of the soreness from the workout and partly from contemplating about my dad and what he’s making me do with my life. 
“Do I really want to wake up at 5:30 A.M. every day?”
“Do I even like my dad? At all?”
“What if my mom was here?”
Before I can even answer these questions, I hear my dad.
         “Hey, how you doin’ up there? It’s almost time to go.”
I do not want to disappoint my dad. I listen to his request and lift my knee, slowly but surely, up and over the side of the bath.  While continuing to perspire, I dry off with a different towel. I hang up the wet towel on the back of the door to my bathroom and head over to my closet to pick out my outfit.  I pick out my typical school outfit that revolves around my blue vineyard vines tie with mini white whales. 
It’s a dreary fall day, and the school day goes as it always does.  I arrive at school ten minutes early and head to homeroom.  I sit in the back of the classroom in complete silence and focus, doing some extra review from the previous night’s homework.  A couple minutes before the bell rings, I have completely mastered my work.  I look up to find the usual smirks and looks out of the corners of people’s eyes.  I immediately go back to doing my work to ignore the humiliation.  The next two minutes before the bell rang go by just as slowly as the subsequent three hundred ninety minutes of the school day.  Throughout the day I got the usual comments from teachers such as, “Wow, why can’t everyone work as hard as you” or “Ryan you are the best student I’ve ever had.”  These are fine, but I just wish the other kids also thought my hard work was cool.
Shortly after the final bell rings, I rush out of school with my head down past the numerous groups of friends huddled around each other talking and laughing. My dad is already waiting outside in his pickup truck to drive me to lacrosse practice.  I reach up to open the chilled passenger side door and take a huge step onto the ledge to climb into the car.  My dad instantly interrogates me about my school day.
“You better have worked as hard as you can all day son. Did you?”
“Yes, dad.”
“Good. Work as hard as you can everyday and you will have a life other people can only dream of. You will be happy.”
I hear what he says, and I don’t reply.  I just sit there in silence gazing out of the side window at the orange-shaded horizon, trying to block him out for a few minutes.  I grab my camera out of my father’s view and sneak in a few pictures.  Those few minutes are nice while they last, but they aren’t long enough.  They never are.  I arrive at the lacrosse field only to notice no one’s there. 
“Where is everyone?” 
My dad tells me, “I brought you here an hour early, get in some reps before everyone gets here.  I’ll be watching.” 
I unwillingly walk over to the bench and strap on my pads.  The pads are still soaked from the day before.  For the next hour, I work as hard as I can with the things my dad says I need to work on, all while my dad stares me down the whole time.  I am thrilled once the hour is over and I get to start my real practice.  It feels like a walk in the park compared to my dad’s workouts and practices.  Even though it is easy, I still don’t enjoy it. During the ball hunts, I go into the nearby forest and sit on a huge rock.  I don’t even mind the hard uncomfortable surface I am resting on or all the small bumps that are puncturing my back.  Looking into the overcast afternoon sky, all I can feel is the thought of escaping the life I am living.  I take a mental snapshot since I don’t have my camera.  These five minute excursions happen at least two or three times a practice.  On the rare occasion that Coach Mitchell does wonder why I go into the forest for so long, I simply reply, “Sorry, I just really had to go to the bathroom.” 
Practice is finally over and I see my dad in the stands.  He walks down with a look of resentment and strictly tells me, “Get on the goal line.” 
I have to run the length of the field down and back 5 times due to my poor play in practice.  Every time I went down and back I have to match, or beat, the time I made on the previous run.  If I don’t match the time I had to run another one.  Luckily, I only had to run one extra sprint.  I finish the last sprint and waddle over to my lacrosse bag to try and leave before my dad tells me to do anything else.  My plan is a success and I am able to get into the car without any more punishment, or as my dad puts it, “happy pain.”  The drive home is beautiful enough to keep me awake for a minute to admire the crickets chirping in the background of the starry night sky.  After looking at the stars for a little, I start thinking about what I can do to escape my lacrosse career and, most of all, my father’s insanity.  I hesitantly suggest, “Dad, what would you think about me playing baseball? What would it be like?” My father instantly begins to burst into laughter. 
“Hahahaha, good one.  You can be a baseball player the day the Pope becomes Jewish. How about that?”
I try and zone out of my father’s hysteria and I take a quick picture of the sky before conking into a much needed twenty-minute nap on the way home before my protein packed dinner.  Later that night I finish my homework after two hours of hard work and hit the hay.

Every day was the same as this. I experienced these exact feelings every day until one day, my life changed forever. 
Through the years, it felt like centuries, of “happy pain” I put in, I was able to commit to play Division One lacrosse for the University of Virginia when I was only fourteen.  I seemed to be happy on the outside, but on the inside it was a whole different story.
I still did not like playing lacrosse and working out 24/7.  I did not want to spend all my free time studying.  These were the things my father still forced me to do insane amounts of.  I was still stuck in my father’s deadly trap.

I am finally eighteen years old and I haven’t done anything even remotely close to the time I asked my father if I could play baseball that one night.  Being eighteen I now feel like I’m an adult.  Every year I have developed more of a rebellious nature in me, and while I have never acted on it, I can feel it: this is the year I will do something big.  But for now, I leave for college in a week. 
It is a Saturday night, two days before I leave for college, and I am supposed to be working out.  Instead, I go to a party for the first time in my life. 
“Hey dad… I’m going to the gym to work out.”
“Good, just be back before 11, you need your sleep.”
“Yeah, don’t worry.”
That’s the one thing I love about my dad.  He doesn’t care if I make it to where I am going safely, or even if I am going where I say I am going.  As long as I have good grades, continue doing my two-a-day workouts with him, and am the best lacrosse player in Darien then he is happy with whatever I do.
The party is a five-minute drive from my house.  The sun has just set, and I turn on the radio full blast to FM 92.7.  Jake Owen’s “Barefoot Blue Jean Night” comes on, and I roll down the windows while belting the lyrics out the window with cars passing by looking at me like I’m crazy.  I pull out my black Nikon S3700 camera from my glove box and snap a quick picture of the scenic orange scented horizon.  On the way to the party, I stop at the local liquor store, “Backstreet Liquors,” known for not carding people who look underage.  I squeeze my big Land Rover into a small parking space and manage my way out the door and on my way to the store.  This is my first time picking up alcohol.  I have drank alcohol a few other times this year, but I don’t do it very often.  On my way inside I am uncontrollably shaking from immense nervousness.  I glance at the cashier who is an old white man and I say nothing.  This is scarier than I imagined it would be. 
“He knows I am underage,” I think to myself.  No one would make eye contact and not say hi.  To counteract this mistake, I walk back around the store to where the cashier is, and say, “Hi, how are you?”
The cashier looks at me calmly and replies, “I’m good, thanks for asking.” 
I continue on, trying to act as normal as possible, as I look for a thirty rack of Bud Light.  I find the beer on the bottom shelf of a fridge in the back and go in to pull it out.  I really am showing my jitters as I try to pull out the rack three tries before finally getting it.  When I finally do pull out the rack, I notice the handle ripped because of how hard I was pulling.  Luckily, the old man doesn’t see me, and I grab a new one.  Before going up to the counter, I take a few deep breaths in and out to try and act as normal as possible.  I slam the rack on the counter and look into his eyes to show confidence while he scans the side of the box to get the price. 
“Your total today is twenty-six dollars and fifty-seven cents,” the man proclaims.
I take out my wallet, noticeably being shaken all around, and fidget out two twenties.  I show him the two twenty dollar bills, but my hand is shaking so much the man can’t even take the money.  After a second or two, he seizes the cash and takes out my change without mentioning anything about my behavior or my age.  Once I receive the change, I quickly latch onto the rack and bolt out of the store.  This is the single-most exhilarating moment I have ever had up to this point in my life. 
Before I can leave the parking lot, I walk to my car with the beer in front of a dozen grown ups.  Fortunately, it is dark out by the time I am out of the store and no one can tell how old I am.  I toss the beer in the passenger seat, then struggle to get back in the car.  I sit down into the plush seat and look over to my right with my vision on the rack.  I could not be happier.  I am finally taking a stand against my father even though he doesn’t know what I am doing.  I open up the rack and reach in for a nice ice-cold Bud Light and turn back on the radio.  I pull out my Nikon camera again and snap a symmetric picture of the rack, the beer can, and the radio all in one picture.  Then, I crack open the can and take my first sip. 
“Oh my God. What the hell is this s***,” I ask myself.  Even with how bad it tastes, I stuff two more beers into myself before making my way over to the party. 
After a couple right turns, I arrive at the party at 10:00 P.M.  It is tough to find a parking spot outside because I am a bit late.  I finally find a spot a few hundred feet away, and stroll through the cool summer-night weather to the house.  Adrenaline is rushing through my veins and up and down my bones at this point. I am ecstatic.  I reach the door leading to the basement and am welcomed by Sarah, who is in my A.P. Economics class. 
“What are you doing here?!” Sarah wonders.
“I don’t know.  I guess I’m just trying to live a little!”  I declare.
“Well come on in!  We’re happy to have you!”
I slowly make my way through the doorway and am greeted by at least fifty students in my grade who are all thrilled to see me. 
“Ryan! What’s up my man?!”
“Never thought I’d see you here!”
“Yo, everyone, Ryan’s here! It’s a party now!”
I feed into the hype and raise up the rack over my head.
“Let’s party!” I yell.
I lower the beer and wonder over to place it on a counter.  I look around at everyone only to see I really need to catch up with them.  I take out ten beers all for myself and chug them as fast as I can.  Once I do, I am the life of the party.  I look over and see a mahogany table.  I hop onto it and dance the night away. I have never felt the way I am feeling.  I don’t care what I am doing and, more importantly, I am not worrying about my father.  I am just in the moment, having fun, living my life. 
There are tons of drunk teenage kids with Red Solo cups in their hands, having the time of their life in Sarah’s huge house.  No, this house isn’t just huge, it is gigantic. Her basement includes a disco ball to illuminate the basement, surround sound speakers to bump the jams, an actual bowling alley, and a bunch of games, like ping pong and darts.  For some reason, we decide to take the party and the disco ball outside.  It is too dark to see much with just the disco ball light on.  I can see the magnificent pool that has absolutely beautiful five to fifteen-foot rock forms, scattered all around to jump from or just to lie down and tan on.  It also comes with an ocean-like walk-in at one end, a high dive, a water slide that goes through one of the big fifteen-foot rock formations, and a cave at the edge of the pool that encapsulates a hot tub.  The entire oasis is lit up by underwater UV lights that change colors, making the water red, blue, green, and so on. 
The only thing we can do is take off all our clothes and jump in the pool from the two fifteen foot rocks, more like cliffs.  I run over to the rock in short strides on the bumpy pavement without my shoes and with full confidence, mostly due to my drunken state, I scale the rock all the way to the top.  At the top of the cliff, I stop moving, I stop thinking, and I stop doing everything else I am doing.  On top of the ten by twelve smooth rock, I can feel the cool summer-night breeze kiss my naked body as I feel on top of the world.  In this moment, for the first time in my life, I am not worrying about my father.  I am in full tranquility with the world around me.  A couple of my good friends, Sean and Evan, are standing right next to me.
“Haha! What’s up boys? Let’s all jump in on three,” I say with an ear to ear smile.
“Alright, let’s go!” Evan replies returning the smile.
I look down at the crystal clear water fifteen feet deep and shout, “One! Two! Three!” in unison with Sean and Evan.  I push off as hard as I can only to be swept away by the air.  The sound whistles in my ears as I free fall fifteen feet, and the entire inside portion of my body rises within me.  I touchdown at the water hands-first executing a perfect dive.  The heated water feels so nice wrapped around my body as I look over to Sean and Evan who both did some sort of trick off the rock.  I enjoy a minute more in the warm water splashing around with the many people crowded around me. 
As I’m in the water with all my friends at my first party, I think to myself, “I want to do something more.  The night can’t just stop after this party.  I need to do something I never imagined I would ever do.”
I begin to walk out of the pool as I see Sean and Evan still in the water.  I call out to them waving frantically.
“Yo. Sean. Evan. Over here.”
Sean and Evan push their legs through the strong water and make their way over to me.
“What’s up bro?” Sean asks.
“You guys wanna do something crazy?!” 
“Yeah, sure.”
“Let’s take the train into New York City tonight.  Maybe hit up some bars or clubs?”
“Are you insane?”
“C’mon guys, live a little.”
“You’re telling us to live a little?  This is the first time I’ve ever seen you out of your house for something other than lacrosse, working out, or school.”
"Hey, listen.  We can get an Uber that will take us to the city by midnight and once we wanna leave we can just get one to take us back.  Let’s say 5ish?”
“What will your dad do if he finds out?”
“Hahaha, do you think I really care what he thinks anymore? Why do you think I’m here?” 
“I never thought I’d ever hear that,” Sean announces.
“Come with me.  Take a risk guys, get out of your comfort zone.  This has been the night of my life so far, and I want you guys to come with me.”
Sean and Evan look at each other for a couple seconds and nervously, but enthusiastically answer, saying, “Ok, we’ll go.”
I don’t show it, but on the inside my whole self is going crazy.  I could not be happier that Sean and Evan are going with me to New York City for the night. 
Before meeting our Uber, I look back at the party and snap a picture of the scene.   I climb into the car behind Sean and Evan and end up sitting in the back row by myself.  I quickly decide I’m going to take a quick nap to rest up for the big night ahead of me.  It has always been very easy for me to fall asleep during car rides.
“I been up all night, no sleep
'Cause I feel like I’m always dreaming
All night, no sleep,” the radio belts as I wake up from my hiatus.
I dig into my pocket and take out my camera to look at the picture I took of the pool party.  I scan the photo and notice how no ones cares that they are next to fifty naked people, they are just doing what they want to do. Not worrying about what anyone else thinks.  I realize this is exactly what I have been missing out on my whole life.  I place the camera into my lap and look out the window, only to see the bright lights of the New York City skyline in the nearby distance.

The Uber I’m in approaches the city in slow motion as I take everything in.    I check my iPhone and the time reads 12:03 A.M, almost hidden by the five text messages and six missed phone calls from my dad demanding to know where I am.  I delete them and block my dad’s phone number just so I don’t have think of him for the rest of the night.
Sean and Evan wake up just before entering the city. Immediately, the Uber driver turns up the volume and we sing as loud as we can and dance in all sorts of ways.
“Man, this really is the city that never sleeps,” Evan says as we all look out at the crowded streets and long lines of people waiting to get into the clubs. 
I take out my camera to capture what I can.
“How are we going to get into any of these clubs?” Evan asks.
I come up with a possibly great, or possibly horrible, idea while staring at the camera in my hand.
“We’re gonna sneak in.” 
“What? Are you crazy?!” Sean questions.
“Guys, trust me on this one,”  I tell them while not even trusting myself.
I ask the Uber driver to drop us off at the best nightclub in the city.  The whole way downtown the old man had been telling us about how he takes kids to clubs all the time, so I figured he must know the best of them.  And he did.
The Uber dropped us off on a curb outside of the Rumpus Room.  From the outside, I could see flashing lights through the windows at the top floor and hear the blaring music travelling through the front entrance.  The DJ is playing EDM music, and  that’s all I need to hear.  I can dance to EDM all night long.  First we have to get in though.  Since we are all eighteen and, as expected, the line is insanely long, I’m going to have to follow through with my crazy idea. 
“Follow me.”  I order.
The club is big and sits between two alleyways. One alley is pretty narrow and has a ton of dumpsters and cats.  However, the other alley is pretty open with nothing but a few cars, a couple security guards, and a back entrance into the club. 
“What are we doing right now?” Sean wonders. 
“Just follow me. Do what I do, and act confident.”
I hang my camera around my neck, and we make our way to the security guards, nervous on the inside, yet fully confident on the outside.  My stride is a decent pace, and as we approach the back entrance, the security guards look at me and take notice of my camera.  Trying my hardest to keep a poker face, I walk by them with Sean and Evan following close behind and nod as if I am a professional photographer going in to take pictures for the event.  The nod assured the guards I am good to go and I look straight pass the as I catch a glance of the handguns on both guard’s waists.  I try to hold my poker face and keep all my emotions bottled up inside as I continue to walk straight.  After a couple turns towards the dance floor I turn around.  To my dismay, Sean and Evan are nowhere to be seen.  As fast as I can, without drawing attention to myself, I quickly make my way back to the entrance.  I notice that Sean and Evan are being examined by the security guards.  Immediately, I put my game face back on and ask, “What’s the hold up?”
“These men don’t have passes,”  the guards respond.
“Are you f***ing kidding me?  This is my crew.  I can’t have this right now. We’re already late.”
“Ok, ok. But next time keep ‘em with you.”
“My fault. Will do.”
I walk with Sean and Evan down a couple of halls, trying to find a bathroom along the way.  The hallway is lit up by red luminescent lights, and it smells like a mixture of sweat and alcohol that has been masked with Hawaiian Breeze air freshener. The walls in this place must be soundproof because I only hear a faint sound of EDM. We arrive at a bathroom and turn to each other.  Not one of us knows how we just pulled off that stunt.  I look at Sean who has the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on his face, with bright white teeth and his blue eyes sparkling.  Meanwhile, Evan has both hands clasped over his mouth in disbelief. 
“Did that really just happen?” Sean whispers.
No one answers.  We keep staring at each other out of disbelief for a good 15 seconds before smiles crack on all of our faces.  “Let’s go,” I shout, and we head inside.  Every step closer we get to the soundproof door leading into the club, the sound from inside grows louder and louder.  I reach out and grip the handle to open the door.  I look at Sean and Evan, “You boys ready?” 
I didn’t need to hear their answer.  All I did was break open the door like my father does every morning, with my full might..

“'CAUSE IF IT”S FAST OR SLOW,
ALL I REALLY KNOW, IS I’M GONNA ENJOY THE RIDE.
ENJOY THE RIDE.  ONE, TWO, THREE. LET THE BASS DROP.

There is no slow motion in this place!  From the moment I open the door, I sing and dance like I just broke open the door to Cloud Nine. 
I look like an outlier being eighteen years old.  Everyone around me is either a much older man with facial hair or a beautiful woman.  Almost all the women are taller than me in their heels.  I do not care, though.  We are all here to have a good time, no matter how old we seem.
The place is packed, with a DJ overlooking us behind huge black amps.   And the lights.  The lights are psychotic.  There are so many different colors pulsing around us that I think they created some new colors just so everything could be even more bizarre.
“This is what heaven is like,” I think to myself. 
A few more minutes (or an hour) go by, and I decide to find Evan and Sean to get a drink at the bar.  Luckily, I find Sean and Evan quickly.  Even more luckily, the bartender is not going to ask for I.D. since everyone in the club has to be 21.  We weave over to the bar through the crowds of people and find an open spot.  I spot a gorgeous girl resting her elbows on the counter on the other side of the bar.  I tap my friend’s shoulders, but the bartender finds his way over to us and asks us what we would like to drink before I can point her out to them.
“Budweisers, please. Three.”  Evan shouts over the music. 
I check my phone again, and I see that it’s already a little past 3 A.M.  But then I remind myself: I do not have a bedtime tonight.  I can do whatever I want, for however long I want to.
“Man, I really wish we stayed out there.  We were having so much fun.” Evan says.
“Yeah, it’ fine though.  I kinda needed a break.”  I reply.
Two more rounds of beer come out, and once we down the beer quickly to get back out buzzin’ to the music.  Sean, Evan, and I nudge our way to the middle of the crowd where most of the energy is and just start to dance.  I don’t care who’s watching or what kind of weird dance moves I’m pulling off, all I know is that I am having the best time of my life. 
Some more bangers come on throughout the night such as, “Don’t Let Me Down,” by The Chainsmokers, and, “Forbidden Voices,” by Martin Garrix.  I have many more beers throughout the night and I slowly come back to life with foggy vision and “Closing Time” playing peacefully through the speakers.

“Closing time,
Open all the doors and let you out into the world...”

I regain some vision and look to my left. I see a much smaller crowd of people who all look like they’re starting to leave.  Then I look to my right and see I have my arm around a beautiful girl.  Her long brunette hair caresses her back, and with pretty hazel eyes and a beautiful smile I’ve never seen anything like her.
“Who is she? What do I do? Where are Sean and Evan?”  Then I remember, this is the girl I saw across the bar.  How was I able to get this girl resting up against my body. 
“You wanna come over to my place?”
She nods and takes my hand.
We follow the migration of people heading out the door and into the brisk New York City air, huddled under the moonlight and surrounded by taxis.  The bumpy sidewalks are filled with scattered litters like newspapers and gatorade bottles and spilled drinks, as we find our way over to the street to hail a cab.  I hold my thumb out and watch as a cab pulls up right on the curb.  I open the back door and follow in behind the girl.  I step into the cab and I realize I don’t know where I’m going.  I think a little and tell the driver to take us to the cheapest and closest hotel.
I don’t say anything to the girl.  In fact, I’m not even really thinking about her right now.  All I can think about is how much fun I have had so far, and the night’s not even over. 
We arrive at a Marriott, and I think to myself that there is no way this is the cheapest hotel, but I don’t really care at this point.  All I really care about is that I am really attracted to this girl and I don’t even know her name.  We both stumble out of the cab and into the hotel to check in.  I get us a room, and we head on up.
The elevator climbs up to the thirtieth floor.  The door is slow to open, but the girl and I are able to find the room fast.  I slide in the key card a few times before it works and open the door. Almost no time passes before we are both in the same bed, and I cap off the best night of my life. 
Once the night is over I pass out within the first minute….

The sun glares through the window shades, and I peel open my eyelids.  My head is throbbing from the night before, and I reach for my phone where it sits on the nightstand.  It is half past noon, and I still feel groggy.  I sit up, rest my back against the headboard, and rub my eyes in hopes of clearing my vision. 
There she is.  There’s the girl.
“There you are.  I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” she says sweetly.
I look down at myself and take a little while to process everything.  Where are Sean and Evan?  Then I look back up at her and notice she has my camera.
“Why are you looking through my camera?”
She doesn’t respond.
“Hello?? Why are you looking through my camera?”
A few moments pass by and she says calmly, “Wow....you have some really great work.  Have you ever thought of making a living out of photography?”
“I haven’t really thought of it, but it’s always been a passion of mine.”
“Well if you’re interested, then you’re talking to the right girl.”
“Why?  Who are you?”
“I recruit young photographers in the Manhattan area for Ken Jones Photography.”
“What?! Are you serious?”
“Hahah, yes I am.  What’s your name?”
“Ryan.  I’m Ryan Luck.”
“Well Ryan, you have just the style and creativity I’m looking for. How would you like to work for Ken Jone’s Photography?”
“That would be amazing!  When can I start?”
“I just need you to send me a resumé for my boss to see and you’ll be working in no time.  For the time being, I will pay for your hotel room and you can get a head start on some work that you will be expected to turn in.  I want you to focus on the New York City nightlife and capture what it is like to live in New York City.”
“That’s perfect! Thank you so much!”
“By the way how old are you?”
“I’m eighteen. Is that a problem?”
“No.  Eighteen is perfect.  By the way, don’t tell anyone what we did last night. Okay?”
“Yeah, obviously.  Just wondering, how old are you?”
“Twenty-one.  I started in the photography business at sixteen and worked my way up the ladder.  Just like I expect you will do.”
The girl stands up, she is short.  She looks about five foot six without the tan heels hugging the bottom of her feet.  Her brunette hair shines in the light as if the mid-summer sun is beaming down on her at the beach.  She dresses just like I would expect a photographer in New York City to dress.  The leather jacket wraps tightly around her white shirt with blue jeans squeezing her legs.  I notice the blue jeans walking over to me.
“Here’s my number, I’ll be in touch with you.”
“Ok thanks.”
I grab the piece of paper the girl hands to me and take out my phone to put the number in and I realize I don’t know her name.
“Wait!” I yell as she’s walking out the door, “What’s your name?
“Rachel Jeanne.” She responds while shutting the door behind her.
The plush pillow behind me softens my falling body before I stare at the ceiling with wide open eyes out of happiness reflecting on the past twenty-four hours.  My body lays on the Marriott bed as still as a large blue lake in the night under a starlit sky after a full day kids water tubing on the water.  The trance I fall into causes me to drift off to sleep. 
I awaken from my midday nap and remember that I have not contacted my father.  The time is 5:00 P.M. so it has been about a day since I have talked to him.  Should I call him?  Does he even care that I’m gone?  He probably thinks I’m at the gym or studying at the library.  I think for a minute about whether or not I’m going to call my dad.  I walk to the windows overlooking the city and open the shades.  The streets are filled with the typical New York City atmosphere.  My mind begins to be permeated by thoughts of freedom this city presents.  I notice the crowds of pedestrians jaywalking without a care in the world.  My eyes then wander over to the Hudson River where the Statue of Liberty watches over the city.  I know what I want and what I’m going to do.

My brain is filled with euphoria.  The future is in my hands.  I’m going to grasp onto it like a child on their first loop-de-loop roller coaster and never let go.  The only thing I need to do is call my dad.  Without hesitation, I reach into my pocket and pull out my iPhone.  I enter my passcode immediately and type in my father’s phone number.  Nothing is going on in my head besides ending the torture my father has put me through.  I firmly hit the call button and the phone starts ringing.  Anticipation is flooding my body.
“Hey Ryan, what’s up? You at the gym still?”
“No.  I’m in New York City.”
“What are you doing there?”
“I went to a party last night and then went to a club in the city. And I got very drunk.”
“You did what? Is this a f***ing joke? You’re coming home right now and you’re grounded for two months.”
“No I’m not dad.”
“What do you mean no I’m not?! This isn’t your decision.”
“Actually, this is my decision.  I’m eighteen now dad. Remember?  Or is all you know my GPA and how many points I had in lacrosse last year? I’m staying in New York City and you can’t do anything about it.”
“No you’re not. You can’t do this.”
“I’m going to be a photographer, and no one’s going to stop me.”
“I’m coming to get you right now.”
“No, you’re not...  Bye Zach.”
I gaze out over the concrete jungle in relief and say to myself, “I’m home.”