The highways of our youth

EDIT: Darn, it’s Wednesday! I had every intention to finish this up yesterday, but I got way too nauseous to function and retired to my bed like a sickly bird. I’m better now. Sorry again for this interruption. I wrote most of this narrative yesterday. The Current Fixations will be much shorter because I just want to get this baby out into the world. I already know my Food and Movie entries for next week, and they are doozys! Expect my next newsletter on Monday. Thanks again for your patience.

Hey friends. Sorry I’m late to you. I was too busy this weekend and yesterday to write to you, but I’ll tell you all about how I spent my time. I had another chance to travel, this time in my own state.

You may remember a December entry when I went upstate with a large gaggle of Bushwick friends, spending a weekend in an idyllic Airbnb. We did it again this past weekend, this time going further up into the true Catskills.

I’ve been telling you all about the funk I’ve been in for the past few months. I think it started after our last trip. I was so happy to be as connected with nature as I wanted (read: minimally), romping around with friends old and new. To return to the real world felt like another instance of adulthood rearing its head, reminders of responsibilities both tangible and fragile. A lot of people in the group had a similar emotional valley, but I think a lot of them left it?

I was excited for this Catskills romp. I helped a lot with initial planning again, happy to set dates for people to drop in or out. Of the 12 original contestants, 9 returned with 5 newcomers. I ended up finding the perfect place — a large cabin at the foot of a mountain above a pond big enough for personal watercraft — with enough beds, a game room, a sauna, and a hot tub for us to soak in. My friend Allie put her card down, and we were golden.

Like last time, my New Hampshire love, Cam, drove to New York to pick some of us up. I spent my Friday working, cleaning, packing, and shaving months of winter leg hair. Cam arrived in the afternoon, and four of us packed our stuff in his Turo rental car, a Genesis (which he found exciting). We played sedan trunk Tetris to fit everyone’s bags and wares, including a cooler full of meat Cam got from a Granite State butcher he hoped to grill.

I had a lot of lucky moments this trip, including sitting in the passenger seat. I was still nauseous from the twists and turns of the city’s highways and afraid of crashing, as if I forgot what it was like to be in a car. Wait, I haven’t driven since November. Eww. It’s funny how I want to be a New Yorker and sometimes resent the parts of me that will never adapt. Now as I adapt, there’s friction. I can’t let myself win.

We stopped at a Target a bit past New Jersey to grab extra foodstuffs for personal and communal dining. I felt what I believe is a distinctly suburban sensation of unintentionally wrecking havoc in public. Forgetting how lines work, talking loudly with friends, blocking people’s paths in the store, aimlessly wandering just to grab a drink and small snack. I have felt this while alone but usually in groups, especially while growing up and hanging out around my suburb. I haven’t felt this specific powerlessness in a while, both amusing and embarrassing to constantly misstep. Employees had to tell us where the self-checkout line was supposed to snake.

We walked across the shopping plaza to a Burger King, somewhere I could probably count on one hand with the times I’ve eaten there. We stared at the paper crowns in the back and put them on for a second before leaving with our food. Hilariously, the other two cars driving up for our trip stopped at Burger King, all three cars at different locations without knowing. This is also a group of infrequent Burger King eaters. There are other chains in the world, but we all ended up at the same place. The other two groups all wore paper crowns and brought them to the house.

Up north we go. Our last drive up this highway was in the December darkness and rain. This time, we got to see the hills in full, sunny bloom. Traffic slowed significantly in lieu of a massive car fire. It seemed like everyone was okay, but we felt the heat as we passed, cautiously bopping our heads to our shared Spotify session. Jersey native Allie provided knowledge of local gas station chains and rest stop remodels as we drove up what she later described as the highways of her youth.

We get off the highway in Saugerties and drive through a part of New York that reminds me of New England, particularly Stowe, Vermont. Is it controversial to say that I think upstate New York should be part of New England? We drive through long stretches of winding roads that go from houses to smatterings of businesses until hitting a scenic byway. Cam was zipping through the twists and turns up and around these mountains above the cutest creeks. We drive right next to this breathtaking surprise of a waterfall, Kaaterskill (Dutch for Wildcat Creek) Falls, showing us we are, in fact, in the Catskills.

From high into these hills, we meander down a straight road opening for the valley into an adorable main street with multicolored storefronts. The sun is setting beyond a mountain straight ahead, and its brightness is beautifully blinding. One of the best sunsets I’ve ever seen; I’ve never felt closer to the sun. The brightness felt like it would permanently sear my eyes even through my sunglasses, despite its rapidly approaching departure from the sky. The five of us are giddy, high off of the nature we’ve been missing.

We arrive at our house in Hunter past 7 p.m., the first group to set our bags down. One group got there soon after us with another taking a bit more time. We ran around each room screaming at the amenities, building empires out of the activities we could do in quick succession. We spent ample time staring out the windows and walking the deck to take in the last of the idyllic sunset. Picking rooms was a bit strategic and nerve-racking, considering there were 4 couples and 6 singles. Everyone ended up happy with their arrangements, but of course I would say this since Meera and I got the best room: slightly normal furnishings with a big bed and windows overlooking the pond.

Since we all ate dinner on the way there, night one was no function and all fun. I spent the night lounging in the hot tub, a group of us switching between each seat to decide which one is the best based on height and jets. When I wasn’t there, I was running around the game room, failing at pool and ditching the rules of ping pong. Some people ran outside to swim in the pond in the dark. Multiple people brought cameras, from tiny digital ones to old video recorders. Most of the recordings were multiple minutes of one person walking around the house, showing what everyone was up to, sometimes performing, sometimes unaware.

People started peeling off to bed while Meera played with her new DJ controller, making this technically her first performance outside of messing at home while I work. I started getting sleepy in preparation for another big day of chilling tomorrow. Two of the singles ended up canoodling later that night.

It’s easy for people to end up in pairs on a trip like this. I liked observing how people interacted with their partners. The trip’s couples aside from Meera and I are relatively new. All of us found different ways of balancing being a friend in the group and tending to our partners. Meera and I, in my opinion, are pros at this, but we’ve also had over three years to master the art. I generally dislike couples because a lot of them forgot how to be good friends when they fell in love, but that’s also part of the deal. The sheer amount of couples this weekend made it easy for everyone to mingle without any weird divides. But maybe I just felt this way because I’m default delusional by being coupled up.

I woke up around 8 a.m. to hear people chatting in the living room and kitchen. I love waking up to the sounds of breakfast, the clattering cutlery and dishware implying there’s something on the other side of your wall to discover. It reminds me of growing up and hearing my mom making something for Ben and I before school.

This began what felt like an extremely childish day, and I don’t mean that negatively. People talk a lot about healing your inner child, a phrase that I have no choice but to roll my eyes at. I have no leg to stand on, though, as I remember my therapist responding to me insulting myself with What would your 9-year-old self think of hearing that? and I instantly bawled. Part of adulthood is healing the deep parts of your insecurities and traumas that came from youth. It just sucks that new-age grifters have co-opted inner child work in the most obnoxious way.

Each car brought food for different meals, and some people enjoyed coffee on the deck while others grilled bacon and made french toast. The kitchen oven and microwaves had screens (one oven even had a Shabbat setting), and the fridge had an auto-fill setting that sensed your cup’s size to give you the right amount of water. Everyone found different ways to be competent in the kitchen this trip. Since I can’t cook, I was one of the dish wranglers. Thank god we had a dish washer!

After a delicious, light breakfast, we went outside. Aimee led us through a yoga class last trip, and this trip took the yoga to the grass. I was too distracted by background buzzing and uneven terrain. We even had a second yoga teacher on this trip (so Bushwick!), and they were taking us through some sun salutations. Midway through, I realized I was not feeling zen enough to have true fun, so I got up and left. I felt 4 years old in the best way, leaving my preschool classmates to play alone in the corner.

I walked to the pond down the hill across logs lodged in mud, watching each step so I don’t accidentally smoosh my shoes. I simultaneously relish and loathe the feeling of going down to a body of water from a lake house, the anticipation building as I try not to slip. I arrived at a small set of wooden steps to the water, covered in little beach pebbles. Breathe in, breathe out. Now my mind is quiet. The tranquil pond, rippling when the rotating fisherman keeps angling. I wonder if he was successful. The mountains around me stand tall but don’t inspire fear.

After a few moments alone, I hear footsteps behind me, and it’s my friend Kayla, also unable to focus on her sun salutations. She’s a newer person in my life, and I hoped this trip would be an opportunity to get closer. After a few minutes of us sitting together, Allie joins us. We had all of this pent-up excitement with no emotional outlet, and Kayla had this idea to take turns just saying things we love. They ranged in depth, from drinking coffee next to a window to watching ourselves change for the better.

We traveled down various tangents and started tossing pebbles into the lake. I couldn’t stop throwing them, different shapes and sizes but all tiny enough to not go far. It felt amazing. I wasn’t a super active kid, but I loved to sit outside and do dumb things like rip out grass and pull apart weeds. A younger me was taking over.

Allie dealt with her younger self, as well, saying this trip reminded her of how much she loves the highways of her youth. She went to lots of towns like this while visiting her grandma or on trips with friends. It’s bittersweet to be back after so long; so much has changed, and so has she. But it’s great to see everything through the eyes of Catskill virgins and point out the things she loves. I thought about what my parallels would be as a Pittsburgher. It’s fun when friends visit me and giggle at street names like Boulevard of the Allies.

All three of us had a lot on our mind; it’s almost like there’s all of this fun around you that it makes you uncomfortable. I talked to my mom about this happy/sad on the phone earlier, and she said, It’s like when you’re at a little kid’s birthday and the birthday boy or girl is crying. She’s so right. There’s so much emotion that sometimes we don’t know how to bring it out.

The three of us threw more pebbles as our self-analysis skewed negative. Kayla had another great activity idea: throw a pebble and say something you hate. This one had more action from all three of us, giggling as we raged in big and small ways before other people came to join us by the water. This whole interaction with the two of them was definitely my favorite part of the trip, now that I’m reflecting. I wonder if the three of us would have been friends in elementary school or if it’s the adult parts of us that are compatible enough to let the little kids out to play.

Everyone had changed into bathing suits and hung around the water. The house had two kayaks, a paddleboard, and a paddleboat that could technically fit four people. Some people sat around and chatted, others used the water toys. Kayla and I went over to try the kayaks, but there was a massive, ghastly hornet circling closely around the seat of one kayak. We walked away.

Animals were a big theme this weekend. Maybe that’s also part of what felt so childish. Remember learning about dinosaurs and being so excited? My animal of choice was definitely dogs; I would borrow the American Kennel Club anthology from the Howe Elementary library for weeks on end just memorizing dog breeds (which recently came in handy when I had to prove that this dog is called the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel). Allie, Kayla, and I were talking about this youthful love of learning. I said I feel so uncurious and feel like the next time I’ll get excited about learning is when I’m watching my kids geek out about the world (which is a crazy thing to say, especially if I don’t have kids). I don’t even know if that’s how I fully feel, but it felt true in the moment.

I ended up meeting three important animals that weekend. Soon after Kayla and I escaped the hornet, a few people on the paddleboat started screaming at us ashore from far away. Fearing something bad was happening to them, I tuned in. Instead, it was a beaver walking into the water and swimming away. The paddleboaters named him Arthur, which I found fitting.

I retire to the hot tub with a few others and lounge about the house, slowly sipping hard Arizona Iced Teas (actually delicious), trying the sauna (so hot, so spacious), and gabbing with everyone. I interacted with another animal: a bird nesting above the front door. Friend Aimee named her Petunia Theodora, and I told her that name was obnoxious (but I should just let people have fun). We saw Petunia on the first night, staring at her until she blinked to make sure she wasn’t a statue. She just hung out at the nest for the entire weekend, at least every time I saw her. We opened the door so many times, and she never even flinched. I’ve started believing this mystical thing that certain animals are messages from dead loved ones, and I wonder which person in our lives was watching us have fun through Petunia. Each time I’d walk through the doorway, I’d do so cautiously, wondering if this would be when she’d let loose. She never did. I applauded her tranquility.

The third animal special animal of the trip was the aforementioned hornet in the kayak. Our group had a problem with closing doors, and I walked in to see the hornet (I’m choosing to believe the same one) flying about the ceiling. I hid in my room with Meera and Gabby for a while. I assumed it would leave, but the worry lightly remained.

Well, I guess there are also some honorable mention animals aside from the three I’m thinking of. For one, I tried the paddleboat later, but it was old and crappy. Or maybe my feet weren’t moving fast enough. There was a strange water creature in the back seat that looked like a prehistoric, tiny crustacean, the kind of thing you see in a high school science trip to a creek. Also, this is Tick Country, and multiple people found them this weekend. I’m lucky I wasn’t one of them, but I kept running over my skin to make sure. Maybe I’m not meant for nature, after all.

It’s time for the mid-afternoon slump. I realized I’ve barely been on my phone all weekend and have a short burst of Instagram scrolling. I haven’t missed it, but it was nice to be back in the feed for a moment. I showered and changed, walking out to see friends Nick and more so Kerry adorably making bruschetta in the kitchen (was so delicious it elicited tears from one of us). I went outside to join a bevy of silent readers in Adirondack chairs. I tried joining them, but I’m still having trouble caring about my Joan Didion book.

Cam had cleaned up the wide grill and started puttin’ down meats from his cooler. Meat, veggies, all kinds of smoky smells wafting over to us readers. Most people started pouring wine and consuming vices, but this wasn’t much of a trip where people were getting absolutely shwasty.

Funnily enough, some of the most sober people of the trip began rolling down the hill below the deck where the rest of us were. It quickly turned into a bit, with everyone playing a part. The rollers would usually roll one by one and stopped by the catchers standing before the hill gets too dirty. Us spectators at the top were videotaping, leading cheers, cracking jokes, and world-building. I would not want to be anywhere else. I liked seeing the different styles. Jordan would lose momentum near the end of her roll, whereas Aimee aggressively manhandled herself at warp speed. Cam (a different one than my New Hampshire griller, yes, the trip has two Cams) would reassure and support rollers, while Gabby would freak out at their speed near the end with her eyes wide open. The childishness hit is peak here.

Once the food was ready, we had so many meats. It was incredible, thanks to everyone who cooked. My favorite was the steak, which almost melted in my mouth. The sleeper fave was the Chinese pork (which I’ve never heard of), which was red on the outside and white inside. It’s great to eat a restaurant-quality meal at home. Unfortunately, I talked to friends Max and Audrey, who said they found the hornet in their bathroom upstairs. They Googled how to kill one, and I guess soap and water would do the trick if they see it again. Who knows if the door was even closed. The hornet is at large.

We all splintered after dinner. Cam explained the Drake and Kendrick (and others) rap beef to one group in the living room. I returned to the hot tub with some girlies. After staying there for a while due to how cold it got that night, others slowly joined us. We eventually decided to play We’re Not Really Strangers, a get-to-know-you card game that we played via Quizlet instead of buying the real pack. Now I felt 25 again, reflecting and listening. It really solidified our group, hopefully with everyone feeling as comfortable as I did.

It’s getting late, and we returned to the game room. Some people decided to smoke a J outside. I famously rarely get high in groups because I’m hypersensitive. My college friends called me a one-hit wonder. The one-hit wonder struck back, because within 10 minutes, I had to tell Gabby that I couldn’t remember a single detail of the story she was actively telling because I’m blacking out. I decided to go up to bed because I didn’t want to be a burden or start tweaking. A few people followed me upstairs because I am an influential figure.

I don’t remember too much of what happened next, but when people tell me details, the memories instantly restore. I laid in the middle of the bed with my arms outstretched in a T pose, with two people cuddled up on either side of me in the most wholesome and nonsexual way. I kept saying I felt like a tree, but then when people kept asking what they are in relation, I said I can’t think about you guys right now, just me. So that’s my mindset, I guess. People kept joining my room and, subsequently, the pile.

I’m not sure what prompted me to share this with the group, but I remembered a meme of my family. When Ben was really little, maybe early elementary school, he wrote a poem called “I Think I Am a Bee.” It’s an awesome poem, and my mom had it hung up in her office for years. We reference it semi-frequently, but I haven’t thought of it in months, maybe years. Suddenly. I felt compelled to share the poem with the group — and I apparently had it memorized. This really calmed me down during my high, laughing at the poem and remembering baby Ben, missing him and my mom. Ben was actually staying in my apartment for the weekend so he could attend a Super Smash Bros. Melee tournament, and we would probably not intersect. The poem might have been related to the hornet, which I kept reminding everyone (and myself) to watch out for.

I kept talking about the poem with everyone, whether they liked it or not. It felt like we analyzed it for hours. He made up a word — “calamded" — which our group kept trying to decipher (Gabby wondered if it could be a proper noun, sending me into a spiral). Bushwick Cam entertained us before saying goodnight by making up this spaceship simulation through mouth noises, announcements, and flicking the lights over and over. Kayla pushed my legs back and forth like I was traveling in some way. You’d think that this would be the worst high experience, but it was perfection. Apparently the sober people also thought this was one of the best parts of the trip. I always feel guilty, insecure, and annoying while high amongst groups, but they made me feel loved. I passed out eventually.

It’s the morning of our departure. Some people are heating up an eggy, cheesy situation Jordan made. I feel completely discombobulated post-high. Just a What happened? to snap out of. The last morning of a trip always feels like the end of a sleepover, both sad and ready to get out of there. We ate a quick breakfast and packed up. Max said he found the hornet this morning in his bathroom again. He killed it with soap and water.

We packed up the cars on this rainy morning, just like the end of our last trip. After snapping some pictures, we headed to a diner an hour away in Kingston, NY. We only had to wait 20 minutes for the 14 of us to get seats. It’s funny to see real people outside of New York City. I’m dressed in true dykewear, Adidas sports bra showing through my wifebeater (which some call a wifepleaser? I missed that change while I was in New Hampshire) tucked into baggy, black sweats. I never see old people who look like these diners when I’m in New York, but I see them all the time back home. It’s funny because there are so many old people in the city, but they have a spark.

It was standard diner quality on a massive menu, and I chose chicken and waffles almost immediately so I wouldn’t have to punish myself with indecision. They were fine. Ben ended up texting me asking if he could stay another night so we could hang out. Cam ended up also requesting to sleep over. Good thing both of them are friends!

We hugged goodbye in the rainy parking lot, and our cars went their separate ways. The other cars eventual final destinations would be Long Island and Philadelphia. Our New Hampshire car took a different route home and listened to sad music that has gotten us through various times in our life, including now. I don’t listen to the same kinds of folksy or emo music as my compatriots, so it was nice to hear these songs through their experiences. My best contribution was “I Wanna Get Married” by Nellie McKay, an early-aughts jazz tune my mom played a lot growing up. Listening to these songs in the rain with friends was actually pretty pleasant.

Cam dropped Allie and Gabby off before the three of us trudged up my stairs to see Ben. We swapped tales of our weekend. He was delighted at the story about his poem and defined calamded as what he thought “calamity” meant. My mom and I didn’t think there was a real word behind calamded, but I guess we never asked. I’m so proud of the person he is and is becoming. They are unafraid and figuring it out. What a surprise that we all got to make it work.

Allie eventually joined us, so the five of us walked to Nowon, a Korean-American fusion spot I love dearly. Each time I go, I want to get something new, but I always do their lychee soju and $40 five-course meal. We all did the five-courser, and it was fun watching everyone geek out, especially Ben. I also forgot that he’s now 21, so I don’t have to worry when people don’t card them.

We popped by wood-lined Bushwick bar staple The Johnsons, and Ben got carded for the first time since turning 21 almost a month ago (his facial hair is powerful), and he was smirking as he gave the bartender his portrait-mode ID. Ending this weekend with these goobers felt correct, as last time ended with this crew minus Ben. It’s nice that Ben is surpassing Obvious Little Brother and integrating himself naturally amongst my friends, closer to a peer.

After a night of cozy consumption, Allie retired for the night and the four of us did, too. Meera uploaded the videos from her video camera of the trip, and the three of us watched clips as Ben fell asleep on the couch, his ankles resting on my legs. What a great crew.

The boys left the next morning, both driving back to New England. They drove to the same rest stop and got Chipotle, sending us pictures. They have Chipotles in service plazas now? Cam replied, yeah, the ones we go to. Healthier than a Cinnabon, Popeye’s, or Sbarro.

Overall, it was a successful trip. Very focused on the present and natural, connected to myself and the people I love. I still can’t figure out what about it got me into a depression last time or how I could prevent that from this time. Weirdly, I feel a bit better after this trip. The summer camp, kiddo stuff of it all was fun, but I’m glad to be an adult now. It’s nice to be out in the sun again. I’m happy we found a way to do this again, and hopefully we run it back at the end of summer.

I think I am a bee

But then I could see, I wasn’t a bee

But then I understanded, I was calamded

And then I could see I was making a bee

I thought I was so crazy (pronounced cray-ZEE)

I was kind of a bee