Monday, April 25, 2011

Long Wharf Hotel

We entered the room. A bar on the left with an array of expensive liquors. Two televisions sat above the bar on mute. A couple was talking at the frosted glass counter while the bartender cleaned behind the bar. In front of me was a large oak table, arranged in four circles; three on the outside and a raised oak circle in the middle. I sat at the table with the group; an echo of freshman year.

I had been treated to a night out with Dru's dad once before, at the end of freshman year. It had been so long since that moment; a surfeit of changes had occurred. I had aged a bit, I ordered a martini instead of a coke.

The room was arranged in a large half circle. There were floor to ceiling windows that looked out on Boston Harbor. There were high clouds that reflected the purple and orange lights of the city. The city sparkled on the water. The cold day had turned into a safe and warm night.

I had just finished watching the EDC (Emerson Dance Company) show. It was a reaffirmation of the life that was impending. I watched as the seniors did their performance piece; many families and friends flooded the exits waiting anxiously to congratulate the performers. I saw the ritual I would be part of at a bizarre distance. I knew these people, but this wasn't my college, and this wasn't my last anything. It was my first, and I had enjoyed it.

Ciera and I chatted with friends: Jim, Joan, Dru, and Dru's family. It was a young night, only 11 and we were tired. But the conversation drifted around the future, musical theater, and odd jokes. The group was nothing less than eccentric.

We had just visited the North End, got a canoli, and took in the air. We then walked to Fanueil Hall and absorbed the city after the rain. Black shiny streets. Purple, orange, red, green, yellow lights.

The hour struck and Ciera and I walked to Haymarket. It was a new day, midnight. We were the only ones in the station for fifteen minutes. It was a bizarre space, lit up for no one.