Slang Editorial :: Never Underestimate The Value Of A Holla'

Friday, July 03, 2009
Conquering Adolescence

The last turn homestretch of Cemetary Hill

I'm home again in Upstate New York, for the first time since Christmas, and for once it really feels good to be back.

Lil Beaumont and I took the bus up this afternoon, a ride which is normally a too-long 5 hours (3:30 by car) and was today a holiday-fun 6 hours and 30 minutes. Dear god. Also, in a fairly Sensible Jeffrey Sunshine move, I raced out of the house this morning to get to the bus station on time--after harshing on Lil Beau for even suggesting that she was considering taking a later bus--and in doing so neglected to bring any footware other than the cycling shoes I was already wearing. Haa, whoops.

Capping it off, I was so late to the bus that Lil Beau had them literally holding departure for me, which was made even later by the fact that upon arriving at the gate for the bus, I was told by a chorus of angry bus operators and attendants that there was no way I was bringing my bike on the bus without having a box for it. Whoops. I tried to sweet-talk my way on with the bike as-is, but this time they weren't having it and I had to run upstairs as fast as possible to go buy a special bike box from Greyhound for $10 (which, considering the circumstances, wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been). A lot of running around and $10 later, we were finally on the bus and on our way home.

View Oneonta Home Hill in a larger map

The bus ride was long but relatively uneventful. However, beyond the standard Get-me-off-this-bus! reasons, I was chomping at the bit to alight because I was looking forward to hopping on my bike and riding streets that I really managed to largely avoid as a kid. Chief among all of this is the long and winding road that is Cemetery Hill, a .65 mile incline that I must climb to get from the city of Oneonta to my mom's home on the outskirts of town.

This hill posed as a bane of my adolescence until I got my driver's license, literally and figuratively removing me from my surroundings and keeping me up high in the castle on the hill like a baked Rapunzel (including even the long hair). It's not Mount Kilimanjaro by any stretch, but it was enough of a challenge that even as a relatively athletic teen I never managed to ride all the way up without stopping. Until, finally, today. I went to my dad's immediately after getting off the bus and stashed my box there (needing it for my return on Sunday), but then headed home to mom's to climb the small mountain that had dashed so many of my childhood dreams.

And sure enough, life is different for Jeffrey Beaumont in July 2009 and it turned out to be pretty easy--not nothing, but at this point I guess I would have been disappointed had it been anything other.

I have spent the past two hours eating and rotating between swilling beer and downing coffee, so I'm not sure I'm going anywhere else tonight, but tomorrow I am hoping to wake up early for a solid ride and then wander around the streets of my hometown taking photographs of Upstaters Celebrating Independence. It feels good feeling good to be home.

Labels: BEAUMONT, late arrivals, memories, old flames, quicksnaps, thoughts

posted by Nihilist Loves Hate, Hates Everything at 7/03/2009 09:05:00 PM 0 comments

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