You Can't Run From The Past: Pt 1: Travel is Always the Same

A Story by Cinderlalla

A memoir of the future.

"Please place seats in the upright position and fasten seat belts, we will be landing in Pittsburgh shortly. Thank you again for flying with American Airlines," the perky blonde flight attendant quirked over the loudspeaker. I stretched and yawned as I returned to the not so comfortable position I had started my flight in. I had spent 20 of the past 24 hours either on a plane or in an airport, but I was accustomed to traveling a lot. I usually enjoyed it, but I had mixed feelings about coming back to my hometown.

I hadn't even been in my home country for five years. A few months training in France, and then a year and a half in Iraq, and then I had spent the last three years in the poorest areas of Brazil. I loved my job as an international triage physician, even if I had some qualms about some of the lives I had saved.

I looked out the plane window, and smiled as I saw the sweeping Pittsburgh skyline come into view. It was even more impressive at night, but in the daylight I could see the bright yellow bridges and the way the Twin Rivers sparkled in the sunlight. Or maybe I was just nostalgic. I had spent a lot of my senior year of high school in Pittsburgh, shopping in the strop district, catching concerts at the Altar Bar and Stage AE. The plane landed smoothly, surprisingly. As a pilot myself, I had not been impressed with his flying skills.

I exited the plane with my carry on, and walked to baggage claim. Airports were familiar to me, and I was comfortable in them. The sight of security, lost tourists, and tired commuters never changed, city to city. Getting off a plane in Rio De Janeiro was the same as one in Florida, or Boston. Oh, Boston.... But I didn't have time to think about that now. I wanted to go back to my dad's place and pass out. I had previously agreed to lease a car, a cute little 2016 Ford Fiesta. It would work for while I was in Pa, but who knew how long that would be...

Driving in Pittsburgh was exactly like I remembered it. Luckily I was leaving the city around three, so I just missed rush hour traffic. The two hour drive north gave me time to clear my head and arrange my thoughts. I was excited to come back to Franklin, but at the same time I was dreading any old memories that might get dug up. There were many very good reasons I had fled to Boston and never looked back once I graduated. To break up the monotony of the interstate, I que'd up a playlist of songs from my childhood and teenage years--everything from a little bit of Taylor Swift to the classic Green Day albums. I finally reached the Barkeyville exit around five, and pulled off into a town that had literally not changed in ten years. There was the old Arby's, which had been my first job. Then the old diner, which had been my second job--waitressing was so much better than fast food. I drove seven minutes and took my first exit... turn right, and drive a minute and a half. Pulling into dad's driveway was the weirdest sensation. It was almost like I was 17 again--only with a significant lack of teenage angst and Sweat Pea perfume.

Dad didn't exactly know when I was coming back, only that I was. Because of some issues with some Brazilian drug lords not wanting their favorite doctor to vacate the country, I had fled in the cover of the night randomly. But oh well, I knew dad would be pumped to see me. I got out of my car and was instantly attacked by 120 lbs of fur--my dad's Australian Shepherd Husky Mix, Maxwell. Thankfully he remembered me, and all I was attacked with were puppy kisses. I laughed, and patted him on the neck.

"See, some people around here do miss you," came a voice that I had truly no idea how much I had missed until I heard it. My father, that grey old b*****d. He looked the same, minus more hair and plus some more wrinkles. I ran over and gave him a hug, "Daddy...It's good to see you..."

We were never much for sentimental exchanges, more sarcastic quips.

Dad helped me carry my suitcase in, and we talked about little things. There was the latest edition of the local newspaper on the table, and I flipped through to the social pages... There it was, the reason I was home... "Johnathan and Marilyn Maciejewski proudly announce the engagement of their son, Johnathan Junior to Amanda Talltree." Yepp, my little brother was getting married. I noticed how the announcement didn't include my mother, just my step mom. Dad and I exchanged some small talk, but then I excused myself to sleep. Jetlag was finally catching up with me. I climbed upstairs into the guest bedroom, which Marilyn had tastefully decorated in varying shades of camo. That being said, I hated camo, and vowed to find somewhere to rent ASAP. I popped some sleeping pills, and promptly passed out.