BEST 8 One-Dollar Bills in NYC EVER

For as long as I can remember, I've considered NYC an expensive city. I'd go so far as to say that it is the benchmark we use to compare the cost-of-living of every other US city -- "DC's expensive, but not NYC expensive..." I'm not even sure the bargain-obsessed Rachel Ray could tackle it with $40 a day.

So to adequately prepare for our weekend getaway to NYC where I intended to drop Benjamins like I have them, I knew it was essential that I stop at the ATM on my way out to the bus station.

On my way to meet Suz at the bus station, I headed to a nearby ATM and inserted my debit card.

Rejected.

No, this can't be. I just used it the other day and I know for a fact that I have money in it as I was paid the day before that. Ignoring the rejection, I re-inserted my debit card to try again.

Rejected.

I inspected my card again. Valid From 08/03, Good Thru 08/06. Today's date? September 2, 2006.

That's just GREAT! Assuming I must have received a new debit card at some point over the past few weeks and I probably disposed of it somewhere in the mountainous pile of unopened mail that continuously grows on our dining room table, I returned home to retrieve my new debit card. With limited time remaining before my scheduled bus departure, I sifted through hundreds of envelopes simply by feeling for a credit-card shaped item through the unopened envelope to avoid opening a single piece of mail. No such luck.

I suppose it is possible that I threw it in a bag after picking up the mail one day. And so the vicious cycle continued. Dumping bag after bag in an effort to locate a valid debit card, my room soon began to resemble the aftermath of Ernesto. I eyed the clock and realized I was cutting it a little too close to making my scheduled bus ride, so I prepared to throw in the towel as soon as I searched one final bag: My laptop bag. And as luck would have it, I discovered an unmarked envelope (absolutely zero reference to a financial institution of any sort) that felt as though a credit card shaped object had been enclosed. I tore open the envelope to find a pristine debit card Valid From 08/06, Good Thru 08/09, so I sped out the door in hopes of making it to the bus on time. On the way down the elevator of my building, I tried calling to activate my credit card, but I lost the signal. That's okay, I figured I would just try when I arrived at Union Station.

When I arrived at Union Station, I ran up to the nearest ATM and quickly called the activation number again.

"Press 1 for English..."

Done.

"Enter your 16-digit debit card number for activation..."

Done.

"Please have your checking account number ready to complete your activation..."

Pardon me?

Since it is currently 2006 and I stopped writing checks moments after I opened a checking account for college in 1998, I obviously do not have my checking account number handy. So much for activating my new debit card. Instead, I searched through my wristlet to count the number of Benjamins I had to spend in NYC. Zero. I counted not one, not two, not three, not four, but five Washingtons. I'm pretty sure the panhandlers on the streets of NYC have more cash than that.

Oh well, I had to meet Suz at the bus station, so I stashed away my useless inactivated debit card with my five singles and rushed off to meet her and tell her my financial woes.

After arriving in NYC and retelling my debit card fiasco to Kimmmm and company, I was reassured that I would have plenty of funds for the Brazilian Street Festival where you can purchase a variety of items for anywhere from $2 to $8. Things were looking up. Even as I searched through my backpack for my camera, I came across three additional one-dollar bills, so that brings my total to $8. At that point, I realized that I was an obvious target for jokes by the simple fact that they are all one-dollar bills. ("So, Emmmm, slow night last night?")

We will share more about the Brazilian Street Festival in a later post, but in brief, Kimmmm was absolutely right about its affordability. As we wandered along the vendors at the Brazilian Street Festival the following day, it became apparent that you do not need to be Brazilian nor sell anything Brazilian. The only requirement was that it just had to be cheap-- both in price, and in quality. Handmade beads sold for $2, 100% cashmere pashminas for $10, I heart NY tees 4/$10. Unable to decide between all of the cheap crap at my disposal, I settled for a very, very smooth smoothie (it was more like a cup of juice than a smoothie) for $5, which if you're keeping track is 60% of my original funds. Then, I saved the remaining $3 to put toward a cab later on that evening. Also, to ensure I could spend money as frivolously as everybody else, my sugar mama roommate lent me $40 for the weekend.

Somehow, I went to NYC with eight one-dollar bills and returned with $20. So, Rachel Ray, I see your "$40 a day," and I raise you an "$8 NYC weekend." I'm waiting for the TV producers to start contacting me.