At 2AM on Friday, May 9^th, 27-year-old investment banker, Finn Ance, was leaving work much earlier than usual when he felt his body freeze and a panic attack ensue. Realizing that he had no hobbies, interests, friends, lovers, or anything else to do with his extra free time, he succumbed to a full-blown identity crisis. Had he wasted his twenties working non-stop? Did the fact that he could afford a one-bedroom in the West Village really matter if he had no one to share it with? Did anyone even care that he went to Wharton? Impulsively, he threw his work phone down a manhole and then booked a one-way ticket home to Arlington, VA. At the airport, when faced with TSA signs that dared to demand the one thing he couldn’t even begin to understand—his REAL self—he immediately burst into tears.  

Ance had done everything right. He was a top student, president of his frat, secret Trump voter, and LinkedIn Premium user. So where did everything go wrong? He couldn’t figure it out; all he could do was cry.  

Ance was promptly escorted by TSA to a private security screening room as they assumed the tears were meant to be a distraction from a potential explosive or other contraband material that he was hiding in his black Away carry-on bag. But, upon inspection, they just found quarter zip vests, white sneakers, and a copious amount of zyns. Confronted by the fact that these items were all he cared to bring with him only worsened Ance’s identity crisis; his cries became sobs.  

Finally, after hours of tight hugs from the whole team of TSA workers and several calls to his mother, Ance was able to calm down and get on the next plane to Arlington. However, after being there for 3 days with no easy access to an Equinox, he returned to New York, got his job back, and kept up the grind. “Now, when I start to doubt everything, I just turn that entire part of my brain off and focus on the spreadsheets,” he said, smiling with dead eyes.