College students each have their own set of priorities upon arriving home for long breaks. Mine are fairly simple. One: Eat. Eat whatever magical meal awaits me at home and then eat some more. Two: Sleep until ungodly mid-afternoon hours for a day or three. Three: catch up on whatever Real Housewives I’ve missed. Crucial. Naturally, though, as a graduate of a New York City prep school, there are several *places* you can catch me and most of my fellow NYC prepsters at some point during any break.
Our High Schools
This one isn’t exclusive to NYC prep school alumnae, but we seem to be particularly keen on visiting our old stomping grounds whenever we get the chance. One of my best friends from college who lives in a DC suburb found the fact that my friends from home and I love to hit up our old classrooms and teachers over break entirely bizarre. “So, to be clear, you just, like, troll the hallways of your high school for an hour?” I mean, yeah… Why wouldn’t we? High school was the fucking bomb, and I’m not mentally or physically prepared not to revisit it regularly.
Yura is the glorified deli that exists within one block of three of New York’s exclusive all-girls’ schools, including my alma mater. Together, the kilt-ed members of those three schools have funded Yura for the past 15 (or 20 or 25… to be honest, I have no idea how long it’s been open) years. It’s where we went to spend $12 on an iced cappuccino and a pastry during our free periods, and every other NYC prep school had/has their equivalent. It’s absurdly over-priced and realistically probably not all that spectacular, but we adore it. So, naturally, no one has to ask where our reunion breakfast will be. Yura is our one & only.
The Park was our gym. I mean, we had a real gym, but it was pretty shitty. So, the Park was where I “ran” my first 11-minute mile (yes, I have been called an athlete once or twice) and where my PE teacher set up hurdles to try to teach us a thing or two about track, park-goers be damned. So, whether you want to take a run on the reservoir (either to actually run or just for the Instagram op) or want to sit your ass down on a bench with a latte and maybe a friend, if, like me, you went to school anywhere near the Park, you’ll be hitting it up over break, if only to relive those lovely, clammy memories.
If you’re not tweeting and ‘gramming about your undying excitement to *ride with the pack* over break, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing. I say that with a hint of resentment for the *scene* that is Soul Cycle, but alas, I too have drunk the Kool Aid. Us NYC prepsters are addicted to Soul Cycle, and not just to the actual 45-minute, 35-dollar (that’s just under a dollar per minute, folks) sweat sessions, but to the entire Soul experience. The clean white studios, the 50 different flavors of gum from which you’re at liberty to choose at the front desk, the Soul apparel… all of it. It’s obnoxious and absurdly expensive, but we love it. Ugh. And if you don’t *do* Soul, chances are, you have your own betchy variation — core fusion classes at Exhale, Physique 57, etc. Because we’re fit and fab bitches, duh! (Please catch the sarcasm; I hate myself a little for this one but I’m not the worst, I swear.) That’s just how it is.
2nd Avenue Bars
Where it all began. There are several drinking establishments scattered along Second that we consider ours. These are the places where our heart rates escalated and our eyes lit up like the fucking Empire State Building when the bouncers nodded at our shitty fake IDs for the first time. They’re where we drank our first Long Island Iced Teas because we didn’t know what else to order and where we first learned how to dodge the glances of creepy older dudes. We go back to pay our respects, you know? Home sweet Saloon, man.
Featured image courtesy of Real TV Chat