The first time I took the train from Buffalo to New York was about one year ago. I came up with my mom to make sure that City College was the right school for me and to see if I could handle New York. However, this was more of a courtesy for my parents since I already knew I was made for the city. There has always been something about New York that drew me here. I knew since I was little that this is where I would end up and when I visited in the forth grade, I vowed to go to school here.
Every train ride to New York starts the same way. My mom drives me to the station and we always run a little late. I catch the 7:41 train from the Buffalo Depew train station. I find the strongest man in the vicinity to heave my luggage onto the rack above my head. Then I spread out across two seats and enjoy the eight hours I have to myself to do absolutely nothing.
Doing absolutely nothing is actually my favorite thing about the train. It isn’t very often that I have the time to relax and think without rushing between one thing and the next. So many people dislike the train because it takes so long, but I love those few hours of relaxation. I put my headphones on and watch New York State go by out the window.
I watch the abandoned buildings of old, decrepit canal towns pass by. I’ve always considered everything between here and Buffalo to be “the woods.” Farmland and the occasional one-stoplight town can be seen out the window between stops.
I think of all the places I could have gone to school. Places where I could have the traditional college experience. A school in the middle of “the woods” where everyone is the same and the most diversity you encounter is which beer you drink that night. Sometimes I envy the simple party lifestyle of my friends at those schools; at least they have more of a community than City College. However, then I have moments where I remember why I chose to come to school in New York anyway. Moments like when I went to Chelsea on a Thursday to go gallery hopping with my friends, or that time my roommates and I danced in an empty C train car. I realize how special my experience is when I spend my weekends at the Met or go to Carnegie Hall with my uncle. My college experience may not be traditional, but it sure beats getting blackout drunk at a frat party every weekend.
We stop in Rochester, then Syracuse; the biggest cities until Albany. It’s so amazing to see all of New York State, since so much of it is farmland. I think a lot of people born and raised in New York City forget that. The world is so different outside of the city’s borders, but it’s home to millions of people. Those who enjoy the slower pace of life outside a major metropolitan area.
The trouble now is that I’m not sure which home is home for me anymore. I guess that’s the trouble with moving away from the place you grew up. Buffalo is where everything I know is. My whole family, the house I grew up in, my friends from preschool to high school; they’re all there, suspended in memory when I’m not around to witness them changing. Yet each time I return, my siblings get older; my little brother starts kindergarten, my sister starts dating a boy who can drive. New stores open where there was nothing or my old neighbors have moved away.
My friends from my high school mostly stayed home for college, or if they did go away, it was only far enough away where they could still go home every weekend. They all hang out with the same people they knew and spend their time doing exactly what they did in high school. Chances are, they will never move away. They will marry each other and send their children to the same schools. They will live within their small cliques, even in their nursing homes sixty years from now. They’ll be happy with their lives, but I can’t live like that.
The Hudson River always seems to sparkle no matter the weather or what time of year it is. The trick to riding the train is to sit on the right side of the car so you can watch it. If you leave the city in the evening and head towards Buffalo, you can watch the sun set over the river. Small mountains cradle enormous houses that overlook the river. There is even a decaying castle on a small island that I always watch for. I wonder how it got there.
We pass under the Tappan Zee Bridge. We’re getting close now.
The train makes a small turn and there it is. My beautiful city outlined against the sky. It’s like seeing an old lover again, the one you never really forgot. I’m immediately filled with nervous excitement, ready for my new adventure. Everyone aboard can feel that we’re close, it’s as if there’s a completely new energy now, restless and excited. The passengers shift impatiently in their seats.
Just as the train enters the city, it dips underground. The lights go out and there’s an air of anticipation around us. Since I take the subway, I won’t see the city until I’m already where I need to be. I love this part since it makes going above ground at your destination even more exciting. There’s nothing quite like running through Penn Station and seeing everyone living their lives, off on some new adventure, just like me. It’s mind blowing to think that everyone there has a life and a story and a home. I’m just one of those stories in New York, the small town girl here to follow her dreams, and although it’s cliché, I know I belong.
