Vignettes: III

III.
June 5th 2009.

After a morning of half-assing a physics project and running some errands, I finally called Cynthia and Sueminn. The plan was to go to the city and watch some indie films on a New York City rooftop. The time came, and I left the house for the train station.

Light drizzling rain dotted the windshield as I drove to the train station to pick my dad up and catch the next train. The rain picked up as I sat at the mouth of the train station’s exit. My dad emerged from the underground tunnel at 6:20 just as he always did. I got out of the car as he approached, handed him the keys and gave him a quick hug. Be safe, if you need anything, call. Love you, he said, and got into the Durango and took off.

I caught the next train going to New York Penn Station – our meeting point. Travel delays meant that I had an extra hour to grab a slice of pizza for dinner before they’d arrive at New York Penn. We were running late, and so we sped walked through the saturated city to a public school’s lobby. After paying the $2 admission ticket, sat in the school’s auditorium fronted by a huge white projection screen. The set was moved indoors because of the incessant rain. I forgot how, but along the way we acquired a few Qdoba burrito’s, and Cynthia and Sueminn brought along some home-made cupcakes which got smashed in transit.

The night started with some pretty bad live music. Then, we got right into the short films. I don’t remember much about them; like anything else in life some were good, and some weren’t. After the films, we travelled back to New York Penn, and prepared to catch our respective trains back home. Cynthia and I were off to Millburn, and Sueminn headed back to Montclair.

It felt like a dream: sitting on a train coming back from New York in hours that were too early to be morning but too late to be night. Cynthia sat across from me, eyes staring into the wild darkness beyond the train’s window. It was the first time I rode one of these double-deckers. The additional height made me feel as if I were in space, flying through the deep dark nothingness with time stopped. And time did stop. Cynthia and I talked about this and that, shared some laughs and enjoyed each other’s presence. By now our conversation faded as we both silently reflected on whatever events awaited after this train ride.

I thought about the city, how it seemed to breathe a life of its own. I thought about the subways that we rode that night and how teens just like me were riding them, on their way home from a night of adventure. I imagined the eerie feeling of a nearly-silent subway car filled with a somber ambience. I could live in the city forever, intoxicated by the night lights and sounds that only locals could fall asleep to. I closed my eyes, not to sleep, but to dream of the city that I could only wish to live in.

Somewhere along the way back home, three kids from our town panicked a few rows behind me and Cynthia. They were wondering where Todd was. Apparently, he got lost in a crowd and missed the train that his three other friends were able to catch. I listened to their frantic conversation, immediately considering which option to retrieve their lost friend. I laughed to myself, only wishing in that instant that I was Todd, left in the city, without ever having to face the reality that at the end of the month I would be joining the United States Air Force. I sighed; this was the life that I would be missing out on. It felt like a dream.