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Forum Index > Blogs
 
 husniack   February 07 2013 20:16. Posts 113
Profile Blog # 
I've been meaning to write up a 'report' on my Boston trip for quite a while now, but I seem to have lost the desire, and no one likes reading shit when the writer himself feels tired writing it. But I dunno. Some things happened today which feel oddly related to some of the emotions I felt on the trip and I have some good music on and so here goes.

The last time I traveled was 6 years ago to China. This time though, I was literally an adult. So I had to pack my own shit and ask a friend for a ride and not have my parents checking in to see if I made my flight. Oddly liberating. I'm not used to being on the road at 5AM. And I said to my friend, "Man look at all these people. Driving off somewhere. Doing some shit. Maybe going to the airport too. All of us on this world, living out our fucking lives." And she nodded, and didn't say much, because I guess girls don't really think much about shit like this. The airport was crammed as expected, with people and suitcases. At the place where they check your shit for explosives, I stood paralyzed for awhile, looking at all the unique characters. Personality is something I really like, maybe because I feel the chinese culture in America is extremely bland. For example, if you set me next to Jeremy lin next to an army of other asian boys, you will find so many striking similarities. Whereas with an "american" kid, you get a rockstar or a bum or a rockstar-bum or a drug addict or a movie director or a whole host of other shit. And maybe I'm being biased against asians, but I think there's truth in my assessment. I'm recalling something a friend said once about gauging the price of stocks and how everyone, based on their biases, gauges differently. Anyways, this post isn't about China vs. America.

So I'm standing in line, and it's so beautiful, looking at all these people putting their shit on the conveyor. Why is it so beautiful to me? Possibly, I was the only one in that whole fucking airport mesmerized by the process. And maybe you're thinking, is this kid high right now, but i think it's just that I'm really starting to understand, we're all so fucking similar, we do the same things, use the same toothbrushes, like the same type of food, have the same asthetic sense of good and bad, yummy and not and so seeing it in action I guess had a deeper meaning for me.

I started making some sexual eye contact with a beautiful asian girl and I had a flurry of memories about a beautiful asian girl whom I essentially kamikazed my chances with, and so I began feeling a bit nervous, until her white boyfriend suddenly came up behind her and wrapped her up with his hands. I don't really like seeing beautiful asian women being savaged by men in general that are not me. So this made me feel a little animalistic. I think I puffed out my chests a little bit, and stood a little taller. I was also wearing an express jacket so i think i looked pretty cool.

On the plane, it was like 7AM now and I was still pretty sleepy, but as the plane took off, I was overcome with a delerious urge to write down every sensation and thought I was feeling: Swirls of people. The sound of an important register rings. "Ding!" The lights dim. The captain's voice is so crisp. Thanks for your patience all. Welcome aboard. In the distance, a red Marriot sign. On Behalf of your crew, thank you, this time said by a sexy stewardess. Synchronized videos drop from the cabin tops. What the fuck is this Cloud Atlas? Everyone. Stony faced. Flickering lights. The engine hums, louder than the drill of a dentist diving in concrete. Far in the horizon it looks so beautiful. Jesus the clouds and the red-magenta hue. The pressure builds behind my ears, and we're rising and everything looks so diminutive, the cars little yellow lights dotted like braile. Claustrophobic. I want to see the edge of the wing, but I'm in the middle seat and the man to my left is a little chubby-headed and is blocking my view. Extreme compulsion. Neurotic. It's consuming me. I'm sweating uncomfortably. I want to see it. Calm the fuck down.

I arrived in Boston at around 630pm eastern, after transfering a Denver. I forgot to mention that I had never used an electronic boarding pass. So at Seatac, a lady seeing my confusion told me to go to a kiosk and I felt so wonderfully "competent" printing out my boarding pass. Well at the Denver airport, I felt like a seasoned pro doing it. I ate a Subway rival for the first time, not Jimmy John's or Sarducci's, I can't remember, but it's like the "fancy" version of subway, more expensive. If I hear the name I'll know it. Anyways, I thought it was overrated. Like the Five Guys of Mcdonalds.

I should say a little about why I was going to Boston. My "purpose" for traveling to Boston in the first place was to attend an optometry school interview. But truthfully? Deep down I think I just wanted an excuse to visit good Ol Bawston. I've watched Good Will Hunting more times than I'd like to say and so I've always just had an unfounded attraction to Boston. Attending an interview seemed like a good reason. I heard Bost was pretty expensive, but luckily I had a friend who had a friend who said I could stay with them with his roommate in their apartment in Somerville. He didn't offer to pick me up from the airport which I guess makes sense cuz who really wants to pick up a stranger from the airport and have to endure some mindless conversation, but luckily, from playing Starcraft on and off for about ten miserable years before devolving into just watching replays and videos, I'd made a friend and we'd watch games together and shit on each other, and slowly, we drifted away from starcraft and just talked about life shit. Well, this guy lived in Boston, cape Cod to be exact, which I thought was probably a few miles away but apparently it was about a 2 hour drive. So I asked him, Yo can you pick me up. And he was like rofl you're coming to boston and I was like rofl yea.

I'd read posts before about people meeting friends online and jesus christ even wives and shit like that, but i always laughed it off. A real connection must be made through person to person energetic fucking resonance, not talking on AOL live I thought. But meeting the guy, it felt like i'd known him for a long time, which i guess i had. Mentally, we were compatible. Our truth and value system seemed pretty similar, and really, that's pretty much all the basis you need for a good friendship. I told my parents about this, that my long lost online friend was picking me up and that he was russian and my dad made some comment about how russians and chinks are both heavily rooted in communism and hence their moms are of a similar frequency and hence the russians and chinks got along quite well back in the day. Well to this, I lawled.

So we went and got beer and tequila and some food and talked about shit and then drove off to the dudes in Somerville. (I apologize for using the word shit to describe everything, but I feel it's a noun that works.) Then he pulled out a Celtics shirt and I gave him some shit he'd requested for his wife since she was a Grey's Anatomy fan and wanted some Seattle memorabilia. Then we got gay, actually X that since people are sensitive these days due to smothering by helicopter mommies, we got manly, and hugged each other and it was peace out time.

The guy who I was staying at quickly invited me, and he saw my friend pulling away and asked me if I had called a taxi and I said no, it was an old friend and he gave me a weird look like, "why aren't you staying at his place then" but I didn't want to go into the details of starcraft and online friends and all that shit and how he lived in cape cod so I just smiled and said so what's up man. Thanks alot dude.


*
Old Post

 
 Alpino   Brazil. February 07 2013 22:58. Posts 2584
Profile # 
"Because I guess girls don't think much like this" made me tired of reading.
no gods/ no masters/ no borders/ no wars
Old Post

 
 HardlyNever   United States. February 08 2013 04:49. Posts 892
Profile Blog # 
Holden Caulfield.

That is all.
Old Post

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