I stood inside the train station, waiting. My parents had agreed to let me go, thinking I could "find myself" while I was traveling the world. While my parents thought I was going on some big perpetual journey, I was sitting on a bench thinking about one thing: college.
School was over, friends were at home spending time with other friends, attending grad parties, and enjoying the freedom that high school had enslaved from them for so long. And I was there, waiting for the next train to North Dakota, where I would meet Logan Knight for the first time since last summer.
I boarded the train at ten o'clock of the first night. I would arrive in Minot, North Dakota around ten thirty the next morning. I walked to what I thought would be my seat, but it seems Logan had upgraded me to a roomette, how nice of him.
I immediately slid the seat out into a bed, and leaned against the wall. I open the bag of chinese take out I had bought on my way here, breaking apart the chopsticks and watching as the train began to leave the station.
I had this sudden sensation of freedom, nothing like the one I felt when leaving my school forever, but refreshing and new. I was going to leave, and maybe, just maybe I'd never come back. It felt good. I had been alive for eighteen years, and my life was only just beginning.
I sat there, watching as the city lights flash by, eating fried rice and chow mein. It was so exhilarating, leaving everything behind. Everything I had ever known or loved, it was all behind me now.
I woke up the next morning as the train pulled into the station. The stench of old chinese food adding to the bum like atmosphere. I quickly changed into fresh clothes and packed up my things. I had only brought a large suitcase, a backpack that would act as my purse, my acoustic bass, and my flute (in which I stored in the suitcase).
I checked my phone, Logan said he would call when he arrived at the station. Nothing.
I got off and went to the station's bathroom to brush my teeth and comb my hair. After finally looking as one should when going out in public, I leave the bathroom and wait outside. It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky. A clunky old ford pulled up in front of the station. I had never seen Logan's truck, but I figured it was expensive and new. And surely that was not his piece of junk that had just stopped in front of me.
But no. Logan gets out of the driver's seat and opens his arms wide for a hug.
I jump into his arms, saying how long it's actually been and wow has your hair grown?
He grinned and took my suitcase, throwing it into the back. He slid the bass in the backseat next to his guitar.
"You ready?" He asked with a big smile on his face. I nod and get in the passenger seat. He shuts my door and rounds the car, getting in and starting it up.
"Here." He says handing me a canadian flag about the size of my hand and some pins. "Put that on your backpack."
"Why?" I ask.
"Nobody likes Americans these days." He chuckles. He puts the truck in gear and howls, "First stop, New York!"
