One Jewish Folk Circa 1999, I-95

I was fired. Now to move on. Let the day unfold. My mind races around the various ideas of what now. I am tired of just getting by, barely! I have not positioned myself to get a job here or in New York within a week that pays more than entry-level wages. I need a short-term $1,200 solution and a long-term goal.

And what are my goals for earning a living? Do I want to work in the Jewish community, sorely underpaid yet doing a "big mitzvah"? Or join the corporate world for real and work my way up? I need to figure out if there are other options. I don't want to be underemployed, misused, underappreciated and disrespected. I don't particularly care about the title I will carry, as my primary aim in life is to be a father and a husband. But both of those labels require work, and more maturity than I currently have. So what now? I have about $2,000 to my name, a car and consumer credit debt. I have no children, no mortgage payment, and rent due in two days.

I-95

What the hell am I doing again? I can't recall what motivated me or caused me to be in this situation. Well, as long as I have a few hours ahead of me, I might as well think about it. And just where in Maryland am I again? Oh yes. On I-95 to New York. Here is how it all began.

"Been dazed and confused so long it's not true," wails Robert Plant.

I can't believe I was fired from my job! We have one of the lowest unemployment rates in US history, a tight labor market where all a person hears all day long is that employers are desperate for workers, and I get fired? So of course the real question is: now what? It's the last weekend in August, rent is due in a few days, I've got credit card debt piling up, no job, no girl... what the hell am I going to do? I don't want to work in Atlanta long term, but I need money pronto. Well, I guess it's back to temporary work.

Sarah's wedding is next week, so no matter what, I ain't going nowhere. Wow, I can't believe someone I know who is not thirty is getting married! I am so far from that place. Without going into great length about the wedding or my thoughts about it, I will just report that I honestly know they are a good match.

The day after the wedding, which was on the first weekend of September 1999, I was temping. Well, not exactly that Monday, but that week. No, you see how bad my memory is! I actually worked the Wednesday before the wedding. After the wedding, on that Sunday, I received an email about a job interview on Long Island, New York. This will finally explain exactly what I was doing on I-95 on my way to New York, and even what and where I am now.

So I called the person about the interview, and since my resume on the Net said I was living in New York, he wanted me there by Tuesday. But I was living in Atlanta, Georgia at the time. I managed to convince him of a partial truth: that I was just in Atlanta for a wedding. I told him I would be driving back Monday and couldn't interview until Wednesday. So my interview was the first Wednesday of September 1999.

It is very important to note several facts at this point. First, the Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashanah was that Friday. Second, I had been wanting to move to New York for some time. Third, while still employed, I had bought a round-trip ticket on Priceline.com, for under $200, for the week of September 24 to October 3, to be in New York and try to find work for December, when my lease would expire. So, for all clarity, I was supposed to be in New York, just not right before Rosh Hashanah. Finally, while writing about my personal religious beliefs is not the point of this piece, and capturing Judaism briefly does not do it or my experiences justice, for the sake of brevity I will only say that I was looking forward to the holiday and wanted to try to "observe" it.

I called Greyhound and found out a ticket would be $150 or so. I would go interview and, if I didn't get the job, return after Rosh Hashanah and continue living in Atlanta, albeit unhappily, keeping my commitment to my lease. So there I was, with one bag holding a change of clothes in one hand and my suit in a garment bag in the other, waiting for the MARTA bus that would take me to the Greyhound station that would eventually get me to New York.

MARTA on Sunday runs even less frequently than one could possibly imagine. While I waited, I reached into my back pocket for my well-worn leather wallet to make sure I had money for the bus, and... I didn't even have $1! MARTA is $1.50, and really a person needs more than $1 in New York. Even though it was September, I was in Atlanta; it had to be 90 freakin' degrees. I was sweating just breathing. But everyone knows it's hot in Atlanta in September, DUH.

So, as I crossed the increasingly busy two-lane street back to my apartment complex, I got it into my head to drive to New York. Why not? I loaded some of my stuff into my car (not everything I own, mind you, this is a very important detail), popped in Led Zeppelin and drove to New York.

Twenty or so hours later I found myself in New York. I didn't exactly have a place to sleep that night. I called every hostel and they were full. I guess because of the US Open? Actually, I have no earthly idea why every single youth hostel in the city was full. I remembered that two of my brothers were in New York, so I called one of them and arranged to stay with him. That was how I came to Crown Heights. I went to the interview on Long Island and did not get the job.

I must go back and tell y'all some other facts about this trip. On the way to New York, something happened to my car. It couldn't accelerate and was making noises that worried me. Basically, I was stuck in New York with no way of getting back to Atlanta, no job, no real place to live and very little money. I mean very little.

Obviously, I made it through Rosh Hashanah, and the next Monday was Yom Kippur. So I thought: why not just go for a job here? Why go back? Except I had rent due on October 1st, and most of my possessions were back in Atlanta. Why not just go for it? So I did. By September 17th I had a placement through a temp agency, but it was only one day. You must realize I was under a lot of stress, and I do not always think clearly or do well in these situations. Yes, I panicked. There, are you happy? Anyhow, I'm in New York. Certainly the adventure capital of America, no?

I made it through Yom Kippur, went to my first placement, realized that my car could go over 60 miles an hour, and drove all the way back to Atlanta. My temp agency told me they definitely had something lined up for the next Tuesday, so I left Thursday morning and arrived in Atlanta Friday afternoon. This was the very same Friday I had originally, while employed, planned to fly (you know, the quick way to travel) to New York for one week. It was Friday, September 24th, 1999. It was also the start of the Jewish holiday of Sukkot.

I walked into my room in Atlanta: rent due in six days, under $2,000 to my name, no job and absolutely no desire to stay in Atlanta. Yet in my room was a message from a temp agency in Atlanta with an interview, not an assignment, lined up for Monday. Remember, I had told my temp agent in New York that I would be back on Tuesday. Crazy. Not quite as crazy as what happened next.

I called a family in Atlanta I am very close with, arranged to have a meal with them Friday night, and napped until it was time to pray. I walked to the shul across the street from my apartment complex, prayed, ate with that family and went home to sleep. The next morning, yes, Shabbat, I got in my car and drove back to New York. And that is what I was doing, and where I was going, in the middle of somewhere Maryland on I-95.