My first and best choice

On the flight to Baltimore, the guy next to me asked why I was going to Baltimore. I said, "I'm interviewing for a residency spot I'm never going to take. I'm going to New York for my residency. You couldn't pay me enough to work in a notoriously tough program while living in a war zone. Unless you're from there, of course...in which case, uh...I'm sure it's great."

He wasn't from there. (Nice that I wouldn't have to snack on my own foot so early in the day.) But, he did ask the obvious question, "So...why are you interviewing there?"

"Well, the chief of anesthesiology at my school was kind enough to write me a letter of recommendation, and he's from this program in Baltimore."

"So, you're going to make him happy?"

"I'm going to keep him on my side. He's well connected in anesthesiology, and I may need him to make a phone call for me to a chairperson in New York City when it comes time for me to rank programs."

And then, it came time for me to rank programs.
And I sort of loved the program in Baltimore.

The residents were normal. And happy. None of them had been shot. I met one resident who had spent a year at a phenomenal program in New York before she relocated to Baltimore for her husband's job. She said that while she loved New York and was happy there, she was even happier in Baltimore. The program was less grueling. The anesthesiologists got along better with the surgeons. The attending physicians were more supportive of the residents. The surgical cases were incredible.

I flew from Baltimore to New York the next day and interviewed at the program that resident had spoken of. It was a great program. My favorite in the city. But, on my flight home, as I thought about both of these training programs, I just had this feeling about Baltimore--this feeling like maybe I belonged there.

And that is the story of how I chose Charm City over The Big Apple.

The past week has been spent completing paperwork for my Maryland credentials and license (you can adopt a kid, start your own business, and buy a farm with less documentation) and trying to find an apartment in a neighborhood where they don't routinely shoot crime scenes for The Wire.

I'm still occasionally making that excited squealing like a girl noise, but I'm working on keeping most of that on the inside (where it can't rupture the eardrums of innocent bystanders).