While driving up Church St. at 5:15 am this morning with an old friend from high school sitting next to me (for reasons obvious to me [and soon to you], from here on out, I’m going to call her Mia Wallace), Mia turned to me and said, “well, this night has been interesting.” I commented on the fact that people usually say that after they’ve been mugged or left for dead in Mexico. She laughed as I turned onto Main Street and headed up the hill toward South Burlington. Now, how did we arrive at this moment?
Mia Wallace and I met my senior year in high school during study hall. I don’t know how it came about that we sat next to each other but we did and so for the rest of the year, I enjoyed her company and conversation, which were both unlike anything I had ever experienced in life. She got her tongue pierced, she talked about the great love between the Pulp Fiction characters played by John Travolta and Uma Thurman, and together, through the miracles of the McDonald’s Monopoly game, we briefly believed we had won a million dollars. She told me she would be famous one day and I agreed with her. The crush I developed on her was inevitable.
As is often the case, Mia and I lost touch with each other shortly after my graduation. And by “shortly,” I mean as soon as I walked out the high school gymnasium door with my back to my classmates in black gowns. I went to college, she went to a private school her senior year and by the time we graduated college, so many years had passed, I assumed I would never talk to her again. And then, through the miracles of the Internet and specifically an alumni website, we got back in touch, then lost touch, then got back in touch again. Soon, we began making plans for a reunion.
Last year, Sarah the L and I traveled to New York City and spent the weekend of February 14 with Mia. Together, the three of us celebrated our own anti-Valentine’s Day. I had an incredible time (to this day, the trip remains my all-time favorite NYC trip) and was thankful for reconnecting with Mia. Unfortunately, after the trip, we fell slightly out of touch again save the time in June when she remembered a bitter comment I made in February (“I’d rather get flowers on a random Tuesday in June than on Valentine’s Day) and sent me flowers. Since then, we’ve remained in touch, though not enough. Over a year passed by before I returned the favor and sent her flowers last month with the note: “Flowers on a random Tuesday in October are just as nice.”
Mia and I recently began discussing another reunion; this time while she visited her parents back in our hometown. Arrangements were made and so last night, I found myself in a booth in a bar situated on Plattsburgh’s only alley, sitting directly across from Mia. We talked about her recent New York City Marathon adventure, my stalker, and the many different levels of friendship:
1. The best friend.
2. The close friends you keep in touch with.
3. The close friends you lose touch with occasionally but always think about.
4. The friends you hang out with consistently that you would like to be closer with.
5. The friends you hang out with consistently that you’ll never be close with.
6. The friends you’ve outgrown (aka, the Throw Away Friends).
After a few hours, she told me she was returning to NYC via bus Sunday morning. I asked “why not fly?” to which she responded that the only flight she could take left Burlington at 6:15 am. I said “we could stay up late and I’ll drive you to the airport.” She thought about it, called the airline and decided to go for it. We went to her family’s home and spent an hour there to hang out with her family (at 11 pm).
At 12:30 am, Mia and I drove to Burlington, played Boggle on the ferry, ate an early morning meal at Denny’s, and went to my place where we tried to stay awake. At 4 am, we decided to sleep for an hour (Mia in the unoccupied Virgin Mary’s bed and me in my own). Around 4:30 am, I heard the front door open and quickly realized that the Virgin Mary, contrary to my earlier assumption, was not spending the night at her boyfriend’s place. I ran to the living room, told her that Mia was asleep in her bed and then woke up Mia to have her move to the couch. At 5:15 am, we left my apartment and headed for the airport.
The entire ride to the airport, I wanted to tell her that I hoped she didn’t think I considered her a “Level 6 Friend” or a “Level 5 Friend.” I wanted to tell her that I wished she and I were closer and that in the next year, I was going to try to make that come to fruition. But every which way I formed the thought in my head seemed overly cliche and in need of some serious editing, which, at 5:15 am, was definitely impossible. We reached the airport, hugged goodbye, and went our separate ways. She left me a voicemail an hour ago to tell me she made it home safely and to thank me for driving her to the airport and the crazy night we had. She ended the call by saying “see you soon.” And I hope that she’s right.
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