So that’s it, I’m done, c’est finit, no more Plattsburgh, probably forever. This afternoon I took my last exam here, I packed up the last of my things and now I’m sat in a coach station fused onto the side of a hotel, waiting for my midnight bus to take me away from upstate New York and back down to Massachusetts. Hard to believe that it’s been a solid ten months since I left England to come here now, hard to comprehend just how many days I’ve spent in this town, the people I’ve met, the ways we passed the time. Hard to do anything right now in this balmy heat; even nature itself is pleased to see me leave, the sun blaring all day and blanketing the region in humidity tonight. All of my clothes are packed away and I’m sat here, grossly overdressed in a long-sleeve T shirt and jeans, wool jacket and wool flat cap, wishing it would rain again. Rain like it has done almost every day these final two weeks when I’ve yearned for sunshine, but no matter what the weather is it seems I’m destined to be drenched.
It was hard to leave tonight. Much harder than I expected it to be; much of my time here has been spent with indifference to the people and the place, but of course when you go to leave somewhere people make their feelings apparent. Hugs, handshakes, kind words and melancholy smiles were shared as I looked at my room, now completely lacking any kind of personality I’d once tried to grant upon it. It’s a strange feeling, seeing a place you’ve spent months of your life living in suddenly be wiped clean, as if you were never there in the first place, and then to think of how many people have done that before I have, how many backs have lain upon the bed, how many shirts hung within the curtained wardrobes, you feel insignificant; the brick walls of the dormitory have stood for fifty years before I arrived and will stand for many years to come, they were here before I was born and may last longer than me, too. Now though I sit here in the coach station, a chapter of my life shut.
With it being the last time I’ll probably ever be in Plattsburgh I’d considered doing something to my roommate. Nothing major, but a prank of some sort: a note about how I feel about him or hide/take something of his. Of all of the factors here my roommate has been the most negative throughout; he’s rude, antisocial, has no manners, and is constantly chewing on something. If it weren’t for him I feel as though I would’ve been a good deal more social, I know for a fact that a lot of the friends I’d made weren’t comfortable coming to visit me in my dorm because of him. I wanted some kind of payback, everybody in the building was very uncomfortable with him around which made it feel much more deserved, vindicated almost, but I didn’t do it. These last few nights I’ve had untold trouble sleeping, and as I lay there mulling over whatever came into my mind it dawned on me that I hated what I’d become. I used to pride myself on the fact that I hated no one, yet here I was so twisted with animosity that I was ready to steal from this person just because I didn’t like them. He’s already messed up enough, I decided, I’ll just leave him be. When I said goodbye tonight he just looked at me, but I still felt the better man inside, I’d done the right thing.
Like so many times over the last three years, I find myself sat in a Greyhound station once again. The one in Plattsburgh is little more than a 10’ x 10’ waiting room in a hotel. I get here early, always do. Greyhound buses deliberately overbook and make no qualms about it, so if you get here late and it’s a busy day there’s a good chance you’re not getting on the bus and won’t be refunded for it, so I like to be prepared. I don’t have the money to be buying new tickets on the day. There’s no sound other than the whirr of the refrigerated vending machines and as I sit here I find myself with the urge to take out my guitar and play, but I’m no Robert Johnson and these aren’t my crossroads, and chances are the staff working the night shift are already pissed off about being here enough, they don’t need me adding musical frustration to their evenings. Instead I took out my laptop and started hammering out whatever thoughts came into my mind, as you can see here. It helps pass the time and the patter of the keys keeps me sane. Not like there’s anybody here to talk to, after all.
Having made the trip up to Plattsburgh by coach a few times I know very well just how beautiful the Adirondacks are, but I’m much more content to be travelling at night, when it’s too dark to see and I can sleep, than at day. I’m a nervy passenger at the best of times and travelling on mountain roads does not do much for my manner. When I travelled down to Boston in March the mountains were still very much covered in snow with occasional snow showers as we passed through them, and to be able to see your coach swaying and shifting as we’d travel along mountain roads with drops to the sides really shot my nerves badly. I’m a dependable person in a crisis, but I don’t like being in a situation like that where, though nothing happened, you can think of nothing else. The only experience I’ve had that’s comparable is when I flight I was on hit turbulence so rough that the plane just dropped for a few seconds. Going from being on a bumpy plane ride to the blood rushing from your legs as if you’d jumped off a ledge leaves you paralysed with fear because there’s nothing you can do, you just have to sit there and hope for the best.
Though obviously it’s not evident on here because I never got around to writing here, much of my time up in Plattsburgh has felt negative, and with the benefit of hindsight I’m starting to think that’s a little unfair. I’ve had trouble since I got here, with everything from money to visas, which will always put a downer on things, but there’s plenty of good that can be taken from these ten months, too. I’ve broadened my horizons, learnt about subjects I never would’ve had the opportunity to study back home, met lots and lots of new people, become more mature. Most importantly though is I’ve proven to myself I can do this. I can go out into a foreign country completely on my own and live for a long period of time, and not just fall apart. It may not be the same as holding down a job and paying the rent but it’s a stepping stone to that, I can tell I’ve become so much more mature simply by being here, so much more responsible, productive, just simply more adult. No matter how many negatives there have been, how many shit nights or days spent on my own, I’ve gained enough that all the negatives are cancelled out instantly. I might be a few years behind my peers, but I’m finally starting to feel as though I’m growing up.
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