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ROPEIK: Boston, je’taime

I have a confession to make. I am an addict. There’s something that I crave insatiably. Every time I get it, I only want more.

It’s not drugs, chocolate or episodes of “The Wire,” though I’m pretty bad about that too. In fact, it’s something that most people reading this column have unlimited access to at this very moment. You’re steeped in it and I am insanely jealous.

I didn’t really know I had a problem until early September, when the proverbial Hogwarts Express left without me and the truth sank in: school was starting in the Hub, and I was still in Maryland. I knew this semester was going to be hard, in a living-with-my-parents-for-more-than-just-the-summer, 20-going-on-16 kind of way. I knew I was going to miss the distinctive musk of the Classics department, weekends spent with my a cappella group (hi In Achord!) and weeknights spent with The FreeP’s newsroom. I knew I would miss the blueberry muffins at Espresso Royale, because I missed those all summer anyway. I assumed I’d wish for the little things &- like the T’s rumble and the fiery foliage of a New England fall.

So in terms of how much it automatically sucks to be pulled from college and locked into your parents’ house, especially when you are fairly fond of your college, I knew it was going to be pretty bad. But I definitely wasn’t ready for this.
I think the first inkling of my addiction came when I went to see “The Town” about three weeks ago. Yes, I did think it would be an extra plus to get to hear the Boston accents and see the skyline for a couple of hours. But as the first of many establishing helicopter shots of the Tobin Bridge faded in, something quite unexpected happened. I felt a pang in my chest. Before my brain had even caught up, I was searching desperately for the possible glimmer of the Citgo sign to the west. I almost thought I was going burst into tears.
I took a moment to collect myself as time started again and the movie continued on its merry way, oblivious to my revelation. I was legitimately shocked. I thought to myself, I really miss Boston. How could I not have realized? And for the rest of the movie, there was that little twinge for every moment of recognition. The North End. Bruins jackets. Fenway.
After this, I unconsciously began to amass a collection of Boston-related tidbits. I got a new computer and decided on a whim to set the background to a panorama of the waterfront. I started watching season one of “Fringe,” which I had totally forgotten was set in Boston. I began to pause and rewind bits of the show that featured scenic shots of the city or places I knew. I was enraged, as I’m sure the rest of you world-aware Terriers were, at the slights perpetrated by “The Social Network” upon BU’s honor &- but in the back of my mind, I was also pining for Harvard Square.
So, I’m a junkie for Boston. Is it healthy? Probably not. Productive? No way. But more than anything, it continues to surprise me. Yes, I knew I liked BU. It’s a good school and I’m having a fun four years. And I knew I liked Boston. For an expat of Washington, D.C. and closet American history nerd, the city has a lot to offer, and I’m glad I get the chance to experience living there.
But all of that sounds like a college admissions testimonial. The real truth, the truth that I know now that I have been kept away for five weeks on top of the originally scheduled three and a half months, is that I adore Boston. I miss the Charles. I miss watching B trains pass me by in the pouring rain. I miss bagels in the College of Arts and Sciences, unintentionally walking home for 45 minutes from Cambridge, being awoken on Bay State Road by 7 a.m. road work or the calls of a regatta. I miss drunk Cane’s. I miss regular Cane’s. I miss avoiding Greenpeace people outside of Warren Towers and interpreting the colors of the Hyatt’s lights.
I could go on and on, but you, you lucky people, you don’t need me to list all there is to love and love to hate about our city and campus. You’re there right now. I suppose the moral is that absence makes the heart grow fonder &- and in a way, I’m glad to have discovered just how much I care for Boston. This just means I’ll have to try that much harder to avoid giving the T a big hug upon my return.
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