I sure travel a lot for a person with no measurable income.

Remember that time I told you my comic book had been translated to French? So, I took all my money from the royalties and went to NY, last month.

I'm like a kid who gets some money and immediately spends it all on candy.
Except that instead of candy I bought two eight-hours-long vomit inducing flights.

Anyway, I was traveling alone, so I don't have a single photo proof that I was in New York City and you will have to look at this sky scrapper pictures and believe me.

I mainly went there for a conference, that I wrote about here in this website. 

And after that I spent some days in the city, doing the things you are supposed to do while in NY:
I walked all over Manhattan, took a nap in Central Park, watched a broadway musical, hated Times Square, visited museums, found a store that sold raccoon penis bones, went to a free stand up show, crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, saw a HUGE rat, got a sunburn, ate chinese takeaway at the Lesbian Herstory Archive, complained about fruit prices, bought a ton of books, and had a handful of strangers telling me I look nice. 
Seriously though, I got more compliments on my looks in 10 days there than in 3 years living in Porto. 

"I must be beautiful."

I partly expected that because my friends who had been to NY warned me new yorkers compliment strangers a lot. But I must say I didn't anticipate that this would happen with airport officials too.

Coming in, the US Costums officer who checked my passport said I had a pretty smile and gave me chocolate!
and, coming back, a lady in the security line told me I looked like Emma Stone.
fucking Emma Stone!

I have no idea why she said that. But I really want to believe that, thanks to some freakishly flattering airport fluorescent light, this woman looked up at me and saw this:

I know that probably the airport staff was so nice because I'm white and a tourist, and if I was flying from/to somewhere else they wouldn't be as genteel. But, nonetheless, I was very happy with all the pampering.

That is, until I got inside my plane and all joy was gone forever.
Long story short I came back with a throat ache, zero hours of sleep, half deaf, and my hair smelled like vomit.
Even if there had been a resemblance before, by the time I landed in Porto I looked nothing like Emma Stone.