In the interest of meeting new people and networking, I decided to head to Boston this weekend. Actually, it was more in the interest of seeing a city whose brightest lights aren't flashing on the top of a Safety and Security car. Or it was in the interest of going to a place where "public transportation" means something more than walking across the Green in a big 'shmob. In all honesty, though, my main reason for going to Boston was to visit my longtime friend, Colin, a freshman at Boston College. That and to beat up some Harvard kids.
So I spent Friday afternoon dusting off my DOC trip backpack and poring over bus schedules. A few hours and many miles later, I was alone in a city of thousands, braving the "T" armed only with unbridled enthusiasm, boundless excitement and a slice of Food Court pizza. When I got to the BC campus, I saw my friend for the first time in almost two months.
Colin and I had known each other for years. We had thousands of inside jokes, nicknames, memories and stories. In high school, we took the same classes, went to the same parties and went to ballgames and concerts together. We were inseparable; I always knew what he was thinking and he knew what I was thinking. Along with all the great times we had together, we had some pretty stupid and, in retrospect, ill-advised activities. Like when we took a pitcher of Everclear into the bleachers at Yankee Stadium or all the times we cut English class to play NBA Live on Playstation. Or our countless full-tackle football games in the snow at midnight during the school week. We also had our bad times, like when we would get in fist-fights during meaningless pick-up basketball games or when we would spend hours arguing about the use of a mulligan in par-three golf. All the experiences -- good, bad, memorable, deplorable -- only made us closer friends. We knew everything about each other.
That's why I was a little taken-aback when I saw Colin waiting at the bus stop with a big smile and a shaved head. This kid is just about the last guy in the world who would willingly shave his head -- next to me, of course. But I didn't dwell on his surprising hairstyle; college does funny things to people. I met his friends at BC (more names that I'll never remember), and I quickly adjusted to the key differences between life in Boston and life in Hanover (hard liquor instead of kegs, and motorists on Commonwealth Ave. do not always yield to pedestrians).
Even though I had known Colin my whole life, it wasn't until the past few years that we became really close friends. I've always been a quiet, shy kid around people until I really get to know them. Only after I reach a certain point of trusting people do I feel safe enough to open up to them. I guess most people are like that, it just takes me a really long time to get to that point. That's why the bus ride back to Hanover was so difficult for me. I felt alone again. All the inside jokes, all the little things that would set us off laughing for hours, all the stories would have to be put away until we met again. It was very depressing to think about, so I tried to finish my French homework. That was even more depressing to think about, so I tried to catch up on all the sleep I missed this weekend.
When the bus crossed the river and I caught my first glimpse of Baker Tower, all the depression melted away (well, not all of it -- I still had that French work in the back of my mind). I realized that I came back to Hanover with the same enthusiasm and excitement that I had going into Boston. Right there, on the bus, I had a mild epiphany: even though there is no one at Dartmouth that is as good a friend as Colin, and no one here understands all my unique qualities and failings like my longtime friends, it's probably only a matter of time until I find people like that.
I guess that the point of this column, if there is one, is that you should cherish every moment you have with your friends. Some of those moments you will want to remember always, and some of them you simply won't be able to remember, no matter how hard you try. Trust me, I'm still trying to figure out how I let someone named "Slick" shave my head, and I'm wondering about this $85 public urination summons in my jacket pocket.