My friends have going-away parties refined to a science. Every six months or so, one of us gets the travel bug, makes some ambitious plan to start over elsewhere, and leaves town with a great showing of finality and determination. In about 95% of cases, that person comes back to Portland within three months, usually with a raft of complaints about how you just couldn’t find a decent bar, cup of coffee, or pinball machine anywhere else.
The last “leaving for good!” junket I had been a part of had lasted more than a week, and actually resulted in one of the friends who wasn’t even leaving losing his job after sleeping through one two many early-morning shifts. I had no interest in that kind of send-off, especially given that I didn’t actually have any final destination in mind.
The biggest challenge in freeing myself from ties to Stumptown had actually been avoiding my very-recently-ex-girlfriend Amy’s friends, and the constant evil eye directed my way when social orbits brought me into the same room as any of them. Amy herself had been pretty understanding, but the idea that I would choose some childish wanderlust over a girlfriend of over a year just rankled with a handful of formerly-mutual friends.
Personally, I was convinced that I was on a slow but steady march towards being one of those archetypal long-time Portland residents you see all over town. I already had the perpetual tired, pale look down, and a good start on the requisite supply of enigmatic tattoos and indie T-shirts. I figured it was only a matter of time before I bought a scooter and joined the intra-mural adult dodgeball league, thereby cementing my fate as a terminal misfit, unable to get by survive anywhere else on the planet.
When I told Amy about my decision to leave town, I explained that the trip was about becoming “well-rounded,” whatever that meant. She chewed me out, stormed out, and then phoned me a couple of days later to apologize. We went out for a much nicer dinner than we had in a long time the next night, had a great last night in the same bed, and then said our goodbyes.
Am I a jerk? Probably. Do I still think it was the right decision? Absolutely.
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