BOSTON

the first time i went to boston i was 18.

i had a dreamy vision in my head of what boston was and i had to go see it. i also hated where i lived and felt like i was going to suffocate if i didn’t get out.

i had no idea how to travel alone so i booked the trip as a project to figure it out. my mom and step dad gave me $500 for my 18th birthday which brought my net worth to about $700. i also had a bike and a camera.

i packed my bike in a box (yes, you can check it on a plane), got a couple of rolls of film, and set off for the unknown. i had printed mapquests of the route from the airport to my hostel and a blackberry with no internet access. when i landed, i had to put my bike together on the sidewalk and carry my bike box along with my bags through chinatown. it was weird, challenging, and not a little unnerving. and i was thrilled.

serendipity and strangers helped me find what i was looking for.

flying to boston again on this recent trip flooded me with an unexpected nostalgia. i felt a tenderness for the 18yr old me who wanted know what the entire world was like and how i fit into it. i had a leg in christianity still so i can’t say i yet had the biggest world view yet. i wondered what i would do with my life, what it all meant, who i could be.

i was about to start college with absolutely no idea what i wanted to major in. i just knew it was the next step. i hadn’t processed my fathers death yet or been diagnosed with OCD. the tools i had for dealing with my brain at that age were pizza, my journal, novelty, music, and cigarettes. i hadn’t found whiskey yet but it was right around the corner. on this trip, i added solo travel to that arsenal.

i rode my bike around boston getting lost, absolutely beside myself that i could just leave home and go wherever the hell i wanted. it broke something open in my brain and expanded on the narrow pathways i’d been comfortable with.

i left boston with more questions than when i arrived. a curiosity and newfound freedom blossomed.

traveling solo has since been a major staple of my life. i have a tradition of traveling somewhere new for my birthday, most often alone. i’ve used that excuse to go to seattle, portland, chicago, NYC, LA, london - all sorts of places.

my familiar surroundings, routines, and obligations often feel stifling. i can get locked into ruts that tell me what i “have” to do and how i “ought” to be.

stomping around a new city always makes me feel small, shows me how many different ways there are to be a person, and helps me see the parts of my life that aren’t working. it’s like turning off the car, getting out, and checking all the fluid levels.

i have a lot of love for the kid i was. the confused, angry, anxious guy who was certain there was more to life than the depressing town i grew up in. the guy who could listen to a new record and feel transported to a different planet. his commitment to living more than a mediocre life even if it meant a harder one spent pushing across the grain.

i wonder if that 18yr old kid on his flight to boston would have seen 31yr old me sitting across the aisle as a stranger he would want to become and feel jealous, wondering if the older me had a better life - one worth trying out.

he would be right. there IS a life out there worth living. a damn good one. i like to think i’ve done right by him. i’ve found the answers to some of his questions and called off the search on others. i’ve found a rich life that he would be unbelievably stoked to experience.

however many flights later, i’m still the kid staring out the window listening to the xx or gleemer wondering how everyone on the plane isn’t as ecstatic as i am. can you believe we’re in the air going somewhere different?

we’re all headed somewhere we’d rather be.
may that feeling never be lost on me.