To tell a real story is the most intimidating thing I can imagine.
Only one week into the Summer after senior year, and my first real friend in this town is moving to Scotland. Defining Alex Berrie takes some effort. Nowadays he plays World of Warcraft in his spare time, but don't dare write him off as some uber-loser-nerd. The boy's got a mind, and many a lunchroom conversation has been sparked between he and I. Over the years I've grown quite fond of this fine fellow and I have one day to send him off across the ocean.
You have to understand, Alex and I saw each other outside of school once over the course of 3 and a half years that I knew him. That being said, he was still one of my favorite people. We had lunch together almost every day throughout high school. Traditions were built, we had lunch every day from the same line, chatted as we chomped, then our daily ritual of slamming our hands on our tables and fetching some cookies. It was quirky, but cute, as most things are. Each year people surrounded us, but our relationship was generally the same.
Senior year, our table consisted of a wonderful 4. Alex and I were joined by Kyle and Jacky to make the strangest combination of people you could ever imagine. Kyle is famous for being flypaper to social freaks. The dregs of high school society, they flock to Kyle, who will never push them away, leading to a near cult-following of this ridiculous person. Jacky on the other hand, is the personification of a cat. She resents everyone she does not already know, but once she gets to know you she will adore you, it only took about a month of lunches to get her to accept Alex as a human being, it was a rough month to say the least. It's widely agreed that this lunch table was the best part of our days. Everything from the random talks, to the crazy adventures involved. The last week of school we threw this table in the back of Alex's pickup truck, and drove off with it. It's still sitting in Kyle's neighborhood, I wave to it each time I drive by.
So I wake up on this stupidly Houston-hot summer morning, with a day to spend and nothing to do with it. The only thing I have planned is to gather Kyle, Jacky, and Alex and take them on one last lunch trip to Sonic and eat at our table, all for 'old time's sake.' While this is a great thing to do on our last day, it's a whole 2 hours, I've got 8 more to burn with nothing planned. So I'm stressing as I drive to go gather my lunchtime companions, afraid of a day of boredom before sending my dear friend to his Scottish doom.
Without much of a problem, I have Jacky and Alex in my little black Honda Civic, but Kyle is nowhere to be found. He's never been one for consistency or dependability, so Kyle is temporarily ditched as we make our last great drive to Sonic. Back at the lunch table it's somber to say the least. Nothing takes the flavor out of an Extra Long Chili Cheese Coney like the impending loss of a friend. The ritual hand slamming as Alex and I prepare to go get cookies for the last time. We drop by Kyle's house one last time to figure out where he is, and instead of no answer upon the door we find a cousin. This dear cousin tells us that Kyle is at Schlitterbahn. Now not only do I have no plan, but I can't even make this plan work.
Piling into the car, a sense of failure upon my mind, we drive towards the Nestle Tollhouse Cookie store when it strikes me. I make a phone call, ask a favor of a friend, and within 10 minutes I have directions to Schlitterbahn and something to burn the rest of the day. Our true adventure begins as Jacky, Alex, and I embark to extract Kyle from whatever it is he had been up to that weekend.
If you've never driven west in interestate 10 past the west side of Houston suburbs I must tell you it is not something to do simply for fun. The only thing between my good old hometown of Katy and San Antonio is 200 miles and Buc-ee's the greatest gas station I've ever experienced. That being said, 3 people in a car, spontaneously driving to San Antonio for the sake of living up to a lunchtime tradition can be more fun than the best of parties.
Any carefully orchestrated plan must of course be shattered to dust and become a chaotic mess of madness, else it wouldn't follow the course that life truly should. So true to nature it turns out Kyle is not at Schlitterbahn, instead he's in San Marcos, my directions have been destroyed; onward endlessly myself and my companions fly down, 30 miles over the speed limit to hunt down Kyle. I maneuvered through lanes like a delicate dance, avoiding speed traps, ducking around cars on 2 lane roads. Distractions like laughing friends, with their inflatable balloons attached to rubber bands bouncing back and forth, creating a near battleground inside my tiny 2 door hunk of metal meant naught. Forward along the concrete I flew, traveling to fulfill this one plan I had.
Through a series of stops, asking for directions, losing my way, driving down roads to wide to be 2 way roads, uncertain as to whether or not I was about to go careening around a corner to slam head on into another car, blissfully unaware of my incompetence, we found Kyle in San Marcos. Wearing flip flops, a hawaiian T shirt and shorts, smelling of a combination of swear, sunscreen, and piss, our little team had been made complete by the addition of our dear Kyle.
The drive home, consisting of it's many tiny adventures. Alex calling the sign of a house for lease, leaving threatening messages on it's voice mail using my cell phone. The return calls of a manly voice daring me to, "Come and give me a kiss big boy." The stops at Buc-ee's and Weinerschnitzel, just for the sake of stopping. The final stop back at the Nestle Toll House Cookie store for the cookies promised to us.
Our adventure complete, a dawning realisation comes over me. I only had one simple thing planned for that day, and in letting that plan unfold as it freely would did I create an everlasting memory. It was a horribly sad parting with Alex, we left him in his hotel room, standing in the elevator, waiting for an eternity for the damned doors to close and send us from him, but it was more than worth it. Though we lost our summer, college is famous for splitting high school friends, and in the extremes of Alex's departure, this story has been drafted into who I am, and what I seek in life. Living life for adventure.
You have to understand, Alex and I saw each other outside of school once over the course of 3 and a half years that I knew him. That being said, he was still one of my favorite people. We had lunch together almost every day throughout high school. Traditions were built, we had lunch every day from the same line, chatted as we chomped, then our daily ritual of slamming our hands on our tables and fetching some cookies. It was quirky, but cute, as most things are. Each year people surrounded us, but our relationship was generally the same.
Senior year, our table consisted of a wonderful 4. Alex and I were joined by Kyle and Jacky to make the strangest combination of people you could ever imagine. Kyle is famous for being flypaper to social freaks. The dregs of high school society, they flock to Kyle, who will never push them away, leading to a near cult-following of this ridiculous person. Jacky on the other hand, is the personification of a cat. She resents everyone she does not already know, but once she gets to know you she will adore you, it only took about a month of lunches to get her to accept Alex as a human being, it was a rough month to say the least. It's widely agreed that this lunch table was the best part of our days. Everything from the random talks, to the crazy adventures involved. The last week of school we threw this table in the back of Alex's pickup truck, and drove off with it. It's still sitting in Kyle's neighborhood, I wave to it each time I drive by.
So I wake up on this stupidly Houston-hot summer morning, with a day to spend and nothing to do with it. The only thing I have planned is to gather Kyle, Jacky, and Alex and take them on one last lunch trip to Sonic and eat at our table, all for 'old time's sake.' While this is a great thing to do on our last day, it's a whole 2 hours, I've got 8 more to burn with nothing planned. So I'm stressing as I drive to go gather my lunchtime companions, afraid of a day of boredom before sending my dear friend to his Scottish doom.
Without much of a problem, I have Jacky and Alex in my little black Honda Civic, but Kyle is nowhere to be found. He's never been one for consistency or dependability, so Kyle is temporarily ditched as we make our last great drive to Sonic. Back at the lunch table it's somber to say the least. Nothing takes the flavor out of an Extra Long Chili Cheese Coney like the impending loss of a friend. The ritual hand slamming as Alex and I prepare to go get cookies for the last time. We drop by Kyle's house one last time to figure out where he is, and instead of no answer upon the door we find a cousin. This dear cousin tells us that Kyle is at Schlitterbahn. Now not only do I have no plan, but I can't even make this plan work.
Piling into the car, a sense of failure upon my mind, we drive towards the Nestle Tollhouse Cookie store when it strikes me. I make a phone call, ask a favor of a friend, and within 10 minutes I have directions to Schlitterbahn and something to burn the rest of the day. Our true adventure begins as Jacky, Alex, and I embark to extract Kyle from whatever it is he had been up to that weekend.
If you've never driven west in interestate 10 past the west side of Houston suburbs I must tell you it is not something to do simply for fun. The only thing between my good old hometown of Katy and San Antonio is 200 miles and Buc-ee's the greatest gas station I've ever experienced. That being said, 3 people in a car, spontaneously driving to San Antonio for the sake of living up to a lunchtime tradition can be more fun than the best of parties.
Any carefully orchestrated plan must of course be shattered to dust and become a chaotic mess of madness, else it wouldn't follow the course that life truly should. So true to nature it turns out Kyle is not at Schlitterbahn, instead he's in San Marcos, my directions have been destroyed; onward endlessly myself and my companions fly down, 30 miles over the speed limit to hunt down Kyle. I maneuvered through lanes like a delicate dance, avoiding speed traps, ducking around cars on 2 lane roads. Distractions like laughing friends, with their inflatable balloons attached to rubber bands bouncing back and forth, creating a near battleground inside my tiny 2 door hunk of metal meant naught. Forward along the concrete I flew, traveling to fulfill this one plan I had.
Through a series of stops, asking for directions, losing my way, driving down roads to wide to be 2 way roads, uncertain as to whether or not I was about to go careening around a corner to slam head on into another car, blissfully unaware of my incompetence, we found Kyle in San Marcos. Wearing flip flops, a hawaiian T shirt and shorts, smelling of a combination of swear, sunscreen, and piss, our little team had been made complete by the addition of our dear Kyle.
The drive home, consisting of it's many tiny adventures. Alex calling the sign of a house for lease, leaving threatening messages on it's voice mail using my cell phone. The return calls of a manly voice daring me to, "Come and give me a kiss big boy." The stops at Buc-ee's and Weinerschnitzel, just for the sake of stopping. The final stop back at the Nestle Toll House Cookie store for the cookies promised to us.
Our adventure complete, a dawning realisation comes over me. I only had one simple thing planned for that day, and in letting that plan unfold as it freely would did I create an everlasting memory. It was a horribly sad parting with Alex, we left him in his hotel room, standing in the elevator, waiting for an eternity for the damned doors to close and send us from him, but it was more than worth it. Though we lost our summer, college is famous for splitting high school friends, and in the extremes of Alex's departure, this story has been drafted into who I am, and what I seek in life. Living life for adventure.