www.msnbc.com/news/977601.asp?pne=11947&0ct=-300 -> msnbc.msn.com/id/3158821/
The night before we had a big party to wrap up the ninth season of The Jenny Jones Show, where I had worked for four years. As desperately as I wanted to leave Chicago, I was sad to say good-bye to all of my coworkers, some of whom I had become very close with throughout the years. I finally realized that it wasnt my alarm clock, but my doorman buzzing my apartment. Sure, doorman apartment buildings are more expensive, but how can you put a price on safety? This particular apartment was on Oak Street the Madison Avenue of Chicago. If you walked straight out the front door of my apartment building, youd hit Barneys. My mom was there to help me pack and was planning to stay overnight so she could take me to the airport. Shed do anything for me, and I knew that and always took advantage of it. I was hoping New York would make me feel more independent, so I wouldnt call my mother every minute to ask for her help. Help to me usually meant help with some cash, which meant I spent too much at Marshall Fields and I need help paying the bill. After packing all day, we slept for a few hours before we had to get up and leave for my 6 AM flight. I was going to bring some of my clothes with me, and movers were coming to my apartment the following day to pick up the rest of my stuff. The reason for the early flight was that I had a job as a producer for a new court show called Curtis Court and had to be at work at noon the day I arrived.
That morning my mom and I woke up, loaded the car, and drove to the airport in silence. Ive always had this horrible separation anxiety when it comes to my mother. My sister, Lisa, who is two years older than me, would have to leave her class and come to help my teacher quiet me down. I also was unable to sleep over at any of my friends houses until I was in fourth grade because again, I would cry at bedtime because I missed my mom. I would fake being sick and have my friend wake her parents up and tell them that I needed to go home. Every time Id attempt a sleepover, my mom always knew the midnight phone call would come, and would get in her car to come pick me up. After the twenty-minute ride to OHare, we pulled up to the United Airlines departure terminal. Now, I admit that Ive never been a light packer, but I had to have all these bags. My apartment wouldnt be ready for me to move into until two weeks after I got to New York, so I had to bring some of my clothes, purses and shoes with me. I turned around and looked at my mother, who was wearing her sunglasses so I wouldnt see her tears, but I knew they were there.
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