Travels With Stu

I had never put a trip on hold for as long as I had put my road trip to West Point. Back in the fall when I was running out of my walks around New York City I panicked because I didn’t have a job and wasn’t sure where I was going with my life. The only solace I could find in life was by walking, running and traveling. They were the only things in the world that seemed to make any sense to me.

So when I stumbled into a random bookstore near Columbia University in the Upper West Side of Manhattan on an Autumn day I was totally shocked when I saw the “Lonely Planet New York State” book. I had stopped by the bookstore a few weeks before because the walk I had been on suggested checking out the bookstore and I remember being amazed that this was the only bookstore in all of New York City that actually sold the New York State LP. The fear of the bookstore selling out of this book was a terrifying reality to me because by owning the LP, I was buying myself some security and stability in some way. I knew I’d have something to do if I hadn’t landed a job and was done with my NYC walks. I was at a point in my life that provided absolutely no security of employment, so many questions about life, and I just wasn’t feeling all that great, and most importantly, no one was around. Traveling and walking was an extremely personal experience and I remember being very sad when I finished the last of my 25 NYC walks towards the end of September. I had spent an entire month walking over 100 miles of the city. The natural progression in my mind was to begin exploring New York State.

Exploring the towns of Sleepy Holow (Tarrytown) and Hyde Park along the Hudson River were very powerful and moving trips in my mind. The weather was perfect, not too hot nor cold in October and the leaves changing color made the Hudson River Valley majestic. Although I was the youngest person exploring FDR’s House, Kykuit House, Washington Irving’s House, and all those other places I stopped by on those trips, I felt at ease with life, and had accomplished a peace of mind. I was having an incredible time doing what I loved to do more than anything else I could do on my own.

So when I hopped in my car a few weeks ago on a Sunday morning and picked up Matt and Bry adrenaline ran through my veins as I unconsciously connected this trip with my past New York State road trips. However, this trip was different from the beginning, and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. The most noticeable difference was that I wasn’t traveling solo, I had two of my closest friends in the world accompanying me…this was supposed to be a “normal road trip” because I wasn’t by myself.

The drive from Long Island to West Point isn’t a significant distance, only 73 miles. I wanted to be on the road by 9am so we could catch the 11 AM tour and then spend the rest of the day exploring the area and not have to be rushed at any point. Months ago when I went to Sleepy Hollow Bry had shown a strong interest in joining me on the trip, but I went solo because he had IM’d me at 3AM and I didn’t feel comfortable waking him up at 8AM that same morning. Since then, Bry has held a grudge against me for not including him on that road trip and I was hoping this trip would heal any wounds from the Sleepy Hollow trip. I didn’t care what time he went to bed the night before, he was going with me on this trip. Unlike my situation with Bry, I had purposefully delayed my West Point trip just so Matt could join me. I guess somewhere in my mind I’ve thought of Matt as my traveling partner and I’m willing to accommodate him more than anyone else when it comes to traveling. This might not be saying much though, because I don’t usually accommodate anyone when I’m traveling or planning on going on a trip. If I want to see a place I go see it usually without any warning or explanation. A lot of people think I’ve turned traveling into this escape because of my frequent excursions without any thought. I think that traveling, or at least road tripping, is a reaction to something that’s been brewing in my mind for quite some time, and even though I may not vent these thoughts or feelings with anyone, I always have a destination in mind when I hit the road. So, I don’t think my traveling behavior is that random.

After driving through the Bronx and entering the Palisades Parkway I checked my tank unconsciously after remembering my panic attack months earlier when I reached “0 miles left” and couldn’t find another gas station for miles before pulling over and paying $3.45 a gallon at the only gas station in the area. I saw that I had enough gas to get us to West Point but we’d definitely need gas for the trip back. Driving with Matt and Bry wasn’t totally different than driving solo, as the music from my iPod played in the background, while we chatted about what to expect in West Point, and Matt and Bry kept letting me know that I’d have to drive quickly to make the 11AM tour.

We pulled into the Visitor Parking Lot at 11AM as Matt and Bry ran inside the Visitor’s Center and I parked my car. It would’ve been really annoying to have to wait until the 1PM tour, so I was relieved when I was told that they were able to get tickets. I thought it was a little ridiculous that the tickets were $15, but I imagined that we’d be able to walk around the campus, check out some buildings and maybe even see parts of the Hudson. I had paid much lower fees for my other Hudson River sights and seen those types of attractions, but I would soon learn that the West Point tour is filled with disappointment.

“The tour bus is leaving in five minutes,” someone said when the three of us were walking through the gift shop. Matt found a new cup for his muesli and bought it, which kind of surprised me because I rarely see Matt buy anything from a souvenir shop, but the muesli cup is an essential part of his traveling life as I remember. After my moment of shock, the three of us followed the crowd outside where we we saw a line of people with an average age of around 70, maybe it was a little higher.

“Stu, I can’t believe you’ve actually done this stuff on your own,” Matt nudged me as we waited on line behind the white-haired folk.

“What do you mean?” I asked Matt, not really sure where he was going with the conversation.

“Just look around. We must be at least 50 years younger than anyone else on the tour. I can’t believe you’ve been on other tours with people who are 50 years older than you, and you don’t feel weird at all,” Matt laughed and finished his thought with, “You’re an old man in a 22-year old body.”

I thought this was funny, but I was also concerned that maybe other people were thinking along similar lines. I enjoy traveling to see new things and have new experiences, but I hate going on any type of “tour.” I think it’s dumb to pay a hefty price to do something I can do at my own leisure and for free - walk around. Matt’s comment reminded me of when I lived in London and Trev and Alli, my two closest friends from London, told me similar things about how I dressed. Apparently I dressed like I was 40 years old when I first got to London, and after months of Alli’s education I returned to my 20-year old normalcy. But no one had made a comment about how I’ve dressed or acted in a very long time, at least nothing negatively, so I was worried that perhaps in my post-college life I’ve adapted some more “mature” customs after working with people much older than me on a daily basis. I examined myself, seeing that I was wearing my father’s blue jacket, a pair of jeans, brown shoes, and a hoody sweater, and told myself that Matt was just giving me a hard time, but it made me think about how youthful I presented myself. Even though I sometimes feel much older than the 22 years old I am, I want to keep a youthful feel and look.

The three of us headed to the back of the bus and I sat right next to the toilet which made Bry laugh about my misfortune. A mixed smell of over-sanitation and the rank smell of what people must do in a bus toilet sucked any fresh smelling air away as the three of us ended up suffering for the next 5 minutes when some voice on the announcing system welcomed us to West Point.

“For the ridiculously overpriced tickets we charged you,” the voice started, “we will be showing you as little as possible of the campus, and will use your funds to increase the size of our humongous visitor center,” the message ended. “Great,” I thought to myself, as I yearned for the experiences I had in Sleepy Hollow and Hyde Park where it was me, my car, my guidebook and the only thing guiding me was my zeal for exploring a new section of the world. West Point’s tour was too militaristic for me, but I kept my mouth shut about my initial concerns, but the three of us kept making fun of the craziness of the situation of being surrounded by 80 year olds. “I can’t believe you’ve done this numerous times before,” Matt turned to me, laughing as I leaned my head on the bathroom’s wall, waiting for our arrival onto the campus.

When we got off the bus, there was only one thought that ran through my mind, “it was FREEZING.” Snow covered the ground for as long as my eye could see, but instead of walking around the campus, the 30 people on the tour were herded like cattle to a stand of bleachers, where Matt hurled himself over the side rail as Bry took the more pedestrian, civilized route of climbing the stairs for a seat, and I stood in front of the crowd gazing over the field and campus.

“This here is a large green field, with snow covered on it. Behind the field are large buildings where the students sleep, eat and live. You won’t be seeing these buildings because they are interesting and you would gain a greater appreciation and knowledge about the campus. To the right you can see an impressive statue of one of our most famous graduates, Cornelius Buxley Mcluaghlen, who actually didn’t go to West Point, but accomplished a lot of wonderful military deeds and he watches over the campus.” After five minutes of not really understanding anything that was being spoken, and freezing my ass off, the tour reached what I thought as its highlight, the Hudson River.

I was kind of worried that this organized tour would forget to include the most basic element of why I wanted to visit West Point, to see the Hudson River and understand how the school and the river coexisted, and fortunately we were able to look at the river for a few minutes as well as a memorial statue that had a phalanx shape to it, and after some poorly made attempts by the tour guide to make jokes, everyone got back onto the bus, and the three of us made our way back to the shit-scented back row.

We arrived at a church moments later, as I wondered why this was part of the tour. I guess I had created this false vision in my mind about West Point because it was a military camp. I wanted to see soldiers firing guns, and doing military drills, and maybe even kill something or someone, but over the course of the tour I saw no more than five students dressed in a very impressive blue suit winter attire and white military hat, walking stoically through campus. No one was fighting each other or doing army games or military drills. It seemed like an ordinary college campus to me and this was somewhat disappointing. I felt like I was 17 years old again visiting colleges and having some tour guide tell me how great their library was, or how old some other building was, or how their college had the first microscope in the northeast region of their county and city, or some crazy stuff like that that means nothing to me. Even though I was thinking these thoughts, having Matt and Bry around for company made everything seem even more bizarre as we made fun of the tour and our situation for the entire hour long experience.

The church the bus dropped us off at was described as “majestic,” “impressive,” “grand” and other things of that nature, but it looked like any old church to me, and didn’t seem all that impressive. Perhaps my travels around Europe have stunted my appreciation for churches because I’ve seen hundreds and hundreds of very impressive churches, but I can’t say anything bad about the church on the tour, because it was beautiful. However, it was just a church to me. Matt, Bry and I left the group for a few minutes to walk around and take some pictures of us praying or doing something religious, before we left the church, hopped on the bus.

“Thanks for visiting West Point Military Academy,” our tour guide said over the loud speaker. “We hope you had a good time,” as the tour bus pulled into the visitor center.

I was so upset that the tour was such a disappointment, and I paid money to be part of it. Matt and Bry looked at me as if this was how I spent my weekends driving through upstate New York, but I felt that there was no way I could explain to them how different and dull the West Point experience was without insulting them. I think the biggest difference between West Point and any of my other road trips was that I had no freedom at West Point. The three of us were constrained to very strict rules, and there wasn’t any time for wandering or experiencing West Point.

Before heading back to the city, Bry, Matt and I hit up the Main Street of West Point which was even less desirable than Gambier’s commercial district. There was one street with three or four restaurants which were all very tacky or looked somewhat dangerous, but eventually we decided to eat at the local diner. I ordered myself a buffalo chicken sandwich, Matt got some salad and Bry ordered something relatively healthy as well.

“Usually the trips are more involved, and exciting,” I told them when we waited for our meals. “I rarely have been on tour buses for any of the New York Road trips, and even when I have been I’ve had the freedom to wander around. This was very different guys,” I tried pleading my case but Matt and Bry wouldn’t have any of it. I felt as if they thought that all my road trips were similar to West Point, when in fact, West Point and its rigid structure was completely opposite to my usual trips. I had to go on tours at Washington Irving’s House and Val-Kill, but they were usually over an hour or two and I got to walk around. I felt as if West Point was the biggest scam I’d ever encountered on any trip I’d been on, and felt terrible that my friends had to experience it with me.

I almost forgot to get gas on the drive back, and turned my car around before reaching the highway and filled it up with $20 worth of gas, which barely gets me anything, but it was enough for the drive back. I drove through Bear Mountain State Park, and thought it’d be fun to walk around some of the trails, but Bry and Matt were eager to return to New York, and I didn’t want to force them do something they weren’t interested in.

Overall, West Point was a ton of fun because I was traveling with two of my closest friends and their company totally affected how I approached West Point. I loved having someone to share my critical thoughts with and my feelings, instead of writing them down or keeping them to myself. I enjoyed seeing how Bry and Matt reacted to certain things I found interesting, and often thought to myself, what they were thinking about my road trips and traveling behavior. I enjoyed having someone to talk over a meal with, and appreciated not being alone. However, I thought that West Point was so different than any of my other road trips, and I wasn’t sure if I thought this because I didn’t get to walk around at my own leisure, or if I thought this because I was in a different mindset because I was traveling with my friends. Perhaps I should try new road trips with them when the weather gets better and I can make more valid conclusions about the pros and cons of traveling solo and with other people.

I don’t suggest visiting West Point.

Tags: New York Road Trips, Travel

This entry was posted on Sunday, March 9th, 2008 at 11:56 am and is filed under New York Road Trips, Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.