Turkey Time

Ah, the great thanksgiving debacle of 2015. What wonder memories can bring you.

It was my third thanksgiving in the land of the free and the home of the brave. It was my brother’s first. He was in the same city as me, the one that never slept. Somehow that night, it did. It had been windy, and not too chilly, but just enough. My brother came to my dorm from his, uptown. We were to go to our aunt’s together in the morning. She lived in the mile high city. The lights were bright in New York City that night. It smelled of pizza. The air tasted of excitement and the wonder of youth. The ground felt soft and plush. It was not. Just the spryness of youth.

He was making his trek from all the way up, to my place. It was a long trek. The night was young. Outside, everyone was having fun. Tomorrow, break would start for the college students that populated this area, and they were all out in full force. Some saying goodbyes to friends they had made, others jaded, like me. Inside, having fun with friends they already had. New York was alive, and New York was young. His calls came, I was in the middle of something, something he would not like seeing, something i could not pause, so I asked my suitemate to go down to greet him. And he did.

After I was done, I went down to meet him. And he gave me that death glare that he was so fond of, the one he had reserved for me. He didn’t show it to his friends for fear they would be upset, me, even though I was the elder, especially because I was the elder, I could do nothing about it. I was not going anywhere, I was family. I shuddered.

The floor of my dorm was rough and hard under my slippers as I signed him in, and we went inside. He was sleeping over for the night, and he took the couch. We were going to wake up at 7, and because he was new to the subway, I would help him get to the airport. We did not have that much stuff. We could take a train for a thirtieth of the price. 

And wake up at 7 we did. We made our way to the station, my brother, as was his way, was worried. Were we too late, would we make it. He was looking around the Union Square station uncuriously as we waited for our train. The sign said 2 minutes away. Red, blaring. Bright.

It came thundering onto the station. We walked inside. There was an awkward silence between the two of us. Maybe not awkward. Both of us were tired, i was always sleepy, he was up earlier than he was used to being up. Silence, as the train thundered along. It finally reached the stop we were supposed to get to. We switched trains.