Archives:
March 18-March 24, 2007

March 18, 2007

“So then Paula jumps out in a gorilla suit, and I'm like, what the fuck is going on?” Matt says, as we all laugh. He holds a piece of broccoli up between his chopsticks and keeps moving it toward his mouth to eat then backing off as he laughs, or continues with his story. “And at that point, having no clue, what's happening, I just start running.”

Matt was the victim of a campus TV show, something like candid camera, where the people running the show put people—usually their friends—in bizarre situations, and tape their reactions.

“I have to tell my roommate Phoebe about that,” Teri says. “She's always looking for new ideas for campus TV.”

Eileen, an Asian girl who Matt introduced as a friend of his, starts in, “And everyone's going to want to watch just to see people like Matt make asses out of themselves.”

“Is that what you think?” Matt asks, leaning toward her, his eyes wide, popping the broccoli between his lips, but leaving it dangling out by his teeth.

“No, I hate that face,” she giggles pushing him away.

“So, I forget, how do the two of you know each other?”

“Well, it's funny you should ask,” Matt says. “Because, actually, we met over some Chinese food.”

“Or, more importantly for Matt,” Eileen breaks in, “we met over free Chinese food.”

“That sounds about right,” I say with a laugh.

“The Chinese Club was having an informational meeting,” Matt says, playfully pushing Eileen back. “And they advertised that they were going to have a free Chinese buffet.” He shrugs. “So, like any good college student, I went to get my eat on.”

“Little did he know, we weren't going to put the food out until after we'd put out all of the information.”

“Not to mention that it was an authentic Chinese meal, not an Americanized one,” Matt said. “Which means that most of the food was either bland or tasted like crap.”

“Stop,” Eileen says, slapping at his shoulder.

“I'm sorry, but have either of you ever tried sticky rice?” Matt asks. “Or boughs? The only thing I could eat were the egg rolls.”

“The egg rolls I made,” Eileen chimes in.

“Looks like you two were meant to be together,” I say.

Matt smiles and kisses Eileen on the cheek. Beneath the table, I feel Teri squeeze my hand.

March 19, 2007

“So,” Teri begins, looking in on the large map on the wall of the subway, “if we follow the blue line, that should get us where we want to be the fastest.”

“But we have to make sure it's not another express train, or it's going to blow right past where we want to be again.”

“Right,” Teri says, biting her lower lip as she continues to scan the map.

We've spent the better part of the afternoon riding back and forth on the subway. We hopped on the wrong train the first time, then got caught on an express line that missed our stop the next time around.

It's been a good time along the way, stopping above ground at every wrong stop, walking the streets a little, perusing stores, getting coffee. I only wish it was warmer out, and we didn't have to rush from place to place. Teri's been freezing every time step outside.

We climb aboard another train. I feel confident we will end up where we want to be this time around, headed toward the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was Teri's idea, but I think it will be kind of cool to check it out—to do something cultural while we're here, amidst all of the eating out and hanging out around campus.

Teri and I have a seat, and she nestles close to me. I kind of wonder what it would be like to have a life down here. I think about sitting close on a subway rather than holding hands along the walk home, under the stars at night. I think about having a whole city to explore, with a thousand places to eat, shows to see, museums to visit—not just Luigi's on Main Street, and student productions to go out and see.

I like Taylor a lot, but as I wrap an arm over Teri's shoulders, I can't say that I mind this trip.

March 20, 2007

It's almost humorous following Matt through the subway on the way to Madison Square Garden . Where Teri and I would stop to look at maps and still manage to get on the wrong train, Matt navigates the system effortlessly, landing us right where we need to be.

Teri parted ways with me in the late afternoon, meeting up with a friend of her own in the City, leaving Matt and I to ourselves for the evening, as we had planned. Soon enough, we'll be watching the Dallas Mavericks torch our childhood favorites, the New York Knicks, in what is the first NBA game I've ever seen in person.

“So it's not serious?” I ask, referring to Eileen, who he has recounted the story of along the ride.

Matt shakes his head. “Just something to pass the time for now. She's fun, and she really does make a good egg roll.”

“And does she know it's not serious?”

“And what does serious mean? Depends on who you're asking.”

“I'll take that as a no.”

“Take it for whatever you want. That's my point. We've only been seeing each other for a couple months. We're having fun, no strings attached.” We reach a large crowd, making its way into the arena. Matt turns to me, hint of a grin on his face. “So does that mean you and the Ter-Bear are serious?”

“A) Don't ever call her that. B) I don't know.” I look away. “It's possible. But it's not like we've been together much longer than you have.”

“Fair enough. Seems like a good catch, though.” He turns to me. “Seriously. Pretty girl. Funny. Into the whole newspaper thing. I like her.”

“Yeah,” I say, probably inaudibly, as I look all around, making my way inside, past the metal detectors, amidst a flood of people. “I do too.”

March 21, 2007

“So you think you're going to have room in the car for all this stuff, Preston ?” Matt asks, nudging one of Teri's bags with his foot as we sit together on a train.

I smile. “Well, we might have to ditch some of the luggage, maybe the spare tire. But after all that I'd say we have a shot.”

“Har, har,” Teri says, rolling her eyes. “You know, it's not my fault I go to a school without any decent shopping in a 100 mile radius. I'm just trying to take advantage of this rare opportunity for me get something.”

“How many scarves are in that bag?” Matt asks, peeking into one, before Teri slaps his hand away.

“It was a two for one sale. It was practical,” she says, pushing the bag back shut, as Matt and I laugh.

The train pulls to a stop, sending a handful of people off, letting twice as many in. The seats are all full, and all around us, people are standing. It's kind of funny to look at everyone, seeing a guy about my age, absorbed in his iPod and a paperback book, sitting next to an old woman, staring straight ahead, beside two men, talking loudly about what the Knicks did wrong last night.

“What, is something funny?” a man asks through a thick accent—something European, I think, but I can't place it.

I turn to see the man, slim with long, curly hair that comes just short of his shoulders, as he looks at Teri.

“No, nothing's—” Teri starts.

“Nothing's funny, nothing's funny. Then why do you look at me?” he asks, louder, leaning toward her.

“I'm sorry,” Teri says, slinking down a little in her seat.

“You sorry, you shouldn't look.”

“Hey, why don't you take it easy,” I say, leaning forward.

The man turns to me for the first time. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I said, take it easy.”

“ Preston , don't,” Teri says softly, putting a hand on my leg.

The train pulls to a stop again, and stream of people walk between us and the man. Matt takes a hold of my arm. “Come on, this our stop.”

We follow Matt off the train, and once we're out, Matt finds a place near a wall and stops.

“Why are you stopping?” I ask, one of Teri's bags in each hand.

“Because we've still got twelve blocks to go.”

“Then why did we get off?”

“We're catching the next train,” Matt says, looking back and forth between us. “You don't want to get in an argument on the subway.”

“Well it's not like I was going to fight the guy—”

“Yeah, but you don't know who he was. Could be some kind of psycho.”

“I'm sorry,” Teri says. “I was just looking around, and we made eye contact—”

“Don't be sorry,” Matt cuts her off. “The City's full of crazy people, and that guy was probably harmless. Anyway, I'm sorry you guys had to deal with that.”

We stay put, and as I calm down a little bit. The guy really got under my skin—I guess anyone who came after Teri would. Teri looks at the ground.

“You know,” I say, “I wouldn't mind prolonging our trip if we didn't have so much to carry.”

“Stop,” Teri says, hitting one of her bags to my chest, but laughing again.

March 22, 2007

“So I'm gonna go ahead and take back every bad thing I ever said about you,” I say, tearing off the cheese that stretches from my mouth to the slice of pizza I've already set down.

“Best slice of pizza you've ever had—am I wrong?” Matt asks, leaning back and stretching his arms across his side of the booth.

“It's damn good,” I agree. “What do you think, Teri?”

“Hot,” she fans her full mouth, as we laugh.

“Aside from that?” Matt asks.

“It's too floppy,” she says, frowning at her slice. “I like a good deep dish pizza.”

Matt waves his hand. “Eh, you Chicago-style people.” He curls his slice and takes a huge bite, before going on with his mouth full, “ New York pizza is the best in the world.”

“I was with you on the New York hot dog this afternoon,” Teri says, “though that may have just been a function of how hungry I was.”

Matt wipes his mouth, pouring himself some Pepsi from our pitcher. “Well, Preston , regardless of your girlfriend's maladjusted taste buds, I have to say that it has been a pleasure having you here this week.”

“Ah, well thanks dude,” I say, putting an arm around Teri. “And what can I say, we all have our crosses to bear.”

Teri turns back and forth between the two of us. “Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was such a burden to the two of you.”

I hug her a little closer as she pushes against me with her shoulder. “You know I'm just kidding.”

“As am I,” Matt says. “In all honesty, it was good to get to hang out with you—it's nice to know someone's taking care of my boy Preston .”

It's sort of surreal sitting here tonight. I think of Matt and I just a couple years ago—two kids hanging out at a Pizza Hut in Shermantown after school, not sure where we were headed, or of life outside our little town. I think about where are now in, the big city, and how Matt's life is here now. And I think about being here with Teri. It seems as though we've come along way.

I'm not quite sure how to thank Matt for having us here this week. Without saying a word, though, I know he understands what's on my mind.

March 23, 2007

Matt made for a pretty good host—keeping Teri and I occupied over our stay, and also keeping us under budget. With this in mind, and the way I struggle to keep my eyes open, I reach to Teri, rubbing her arm to wake her up in the passenger seat.

“Hmm?” She wakes with a start, leaning forward, and turning to me, confused.

“Sorry to wake you up.”

“Oh, no.” She rubs at her eyes, as I turn from her to the road. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you again.”

“It's all right. Because what I was going to say is that I'm having a hard time staying up myself. I wondered what you would think about stopping at a Super 8 or something in the next town.”

She stretches her arms out, yawning. “I like that idea.”

And so, in another ten minutes, we've pulled over at a Best Western. Ten minutes after that, we're in our room. There's a certain quiet to the hotel. I can't hear another voice, or any movement. Even the room itself feels oddly uninhabited, the walls bare, the space so small and impersonal.

“It's funny,” Teri says, setting down her duffel bag on the king-sized bed. “I went on a road trip with this some friends this summer, and we stayed at one of these places in Massachusetts . And the room looks exactly the same.”

“Well, that's the benefit of staying at a chain hotel—consistency, anywhere you go.”

“I was going to say that it's drawback,” Teri says, peeking past the window curtains. “Keep the shades drawn and we could just as easily be in South Dakota , or California . There's nothing unique about being here.”

I hug her from behind. “We could pretend we're someplace else.”

Teri smiles rubbing her hand over mine. “You know, one difference is that in Massachusetts , we had two separate beds.”

“Did you want two beds?” I whisper in her ear.

“That depends. Are you going to snore like you did last night?”

“Hmm.” Without another word, I lift her into the air from behind. She laughs as I fall onto the bed with her, pecking at the back of her neck.

March 24, 2007

I feel stiff and tired, walking from the parking lot back to McSavage Hall. I dropped Teri off at her place, and helped her unload her bags. It was kind of sad to part ways with her after all of the time we spent together in the last week. Walking across campus, bags hanging from my shoulders and hands, I'm walking back into reality—dorm life, classes, the newspaper, decisions.

I'll set down my bags when I get in. From there, I'm headed to bed. I think I'll nap until dinner time.

Nearing McSavage, I can hear a bass line, slow and steady, then speeding up. The drums become clear too, before I can make out a melody, and Dave's voice. By the time I get to the building, I'd might as well be standing front row at an Axis show, for how clearly I can hear the music.

It's almost painfully loud when I get in the suite. I suppose, I shouldn't be surprised to see the whole band there, after I've heard them, but it's still a bit of a shock to see them there, with all of their equipment consuming our common room, an audience of girls on our couches.

“Whoa, guys.” Dave cracks a smile as he sees me. “Hold up a minute, this is my suitemate Preston .”

“I remember Preston ,” Nick says, pointing his finger like a gun, and clicking his tongue. “Welcome home, my man. Have a seat, hang out.”

“We having a concert here?” I ask, sort of edging toward my room.

“Practice,” Dave says. “The dorm's been dead, and this turned out to be a pretty decent spot for us to practice this week.” He looks away, for a second, back at the guys, before turning back to me. “You look kind of tired, man. If you wanted to crash or something, we can take this elsewhere.”

“Na, na. That's fine.” I think Dave can tell I'm lying, but doesn't call me on it. “You guys go on. I'm just dropping off my bags, then I'm headed back again.”

“Well we'll send you off then,” Bud, the bass player says, as he begins to pluck the same rhythm again. Lenny, the big drummer, follows suit. Dave nods to me, then turns back to the guys. “All right, Lenny, do it right. Count it off for us again.”

Lenny claps his sticks together four times, and they're off and rolling.