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Friendship,
Melodrama & Speed
By Laurel Ross
My best friend in the world, Rachel, spent three months
pursuing an intensive, religious education class in
Canada. A condition of enrollment was limited contact
with the outside world, thereby allowing for maximum
immersion in the program without worldly disturbances.
Midway through the program, she let me know that her
big graduation ceremony was on a Saturday night in upstate
New York. Naturally, the following morning, another
dear friend of mine was being honored at a brunch. I
had committed to the brunch event months earlier, and
was serving as my friend's liaison with the brunch committee.
It was an event I not only wanted to be at, but had
to be at. Rach graciously accepted the fact that I would
not be attending her graduation. But then, two weeks
before the big events, spoke of the importance of her
graduation and compared it to a wedding. I knew what
I had to do.
So
I drove upstate on a Saturday afternoon, knowing I would
be heading back early the next morning. The graduation
was an interesting experience, providing a better understanding
and appreciation of Rach's religious commitment. I was
up at the crack of dawn the following morning, and headed
onto the road. Twenty minutes outside of Albany, I heard
sirens and received my first speeding ticket. I drove
the rest of the way well within the speed limit, arriving
at the brunch just as it started. Ah yes, no good deed
goes unpunished.
Three
months later, I was again driving upstate. I had hoped
that a close friend would be joining me as lawyer and
co-driver, but he had gotten stuck in court. Which was
ok, as Rach was meeting me for dinner. When I called
her from the Thruway, I reached her assistant. He advised
me that Rach would not be meeting me for dinner, as
a major blizzard was raging in Saratoga, and everything
was shut down.
As
I drove through the rain, sleet and snow, I found myself
incredibly pissed off. I pulled over at a Thruway stop,
and sobbed in the ladies room, "I'm all alone,
I can't rely on anyone, it's just me. Nobody cares about
me. The only one I can trust is me." I somehow
managed to pull myself together, and headed onward to
Athens, where I beat the damn speeding ticket.
I
got home that night, after spending 7 out of 9 hours
in my car. I called Rach, who was all upset over a work
issue. I listened briefly, then told her I was exhausted
and would call her the next day. When I called, she
let me know that after I hung up that night, she sat
and cried over the fact that "no one loves her,
she's all alone, she can't rely on anyone. It's just
her and god." I laughed and told her of my Thruway
meltdown.
So
what does this prove? Momentary hysteria blinds reality?
Friends are just that, fallible individuals who can
make less than perfect decisions? That we have moments
where we believe that if we were in committed relationships,
all the feelings of being alone and unloved would disappear?
Or perhaps, and more realistically, it just proves that
sometimes melodrama is just that.
Editors
Note: Laurel Ross welcomes your comments. Email her
at LaurelRoss39@aol.com.
Apr
2002
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