When Rubber Meets the Road

Location, location, location. Any real estate agent – or common sense – will tell you that location dictates the price of the property. But what people or logic don’t often tell you is how location also dictates the fate of relationships; more than changing the address on an envelope, it changes you and the dynamics of friendships.

Last week, three different cities, all located hundreds and thousands of miles away, distanced three of my friends from a place I had grown accustomed to calling their home: the tri-state area. There’s the Philly friend who will be moving to Bean town Boston by the end of this year. Then there’s the local Jersey friend who’s moving to ritzy LA in a month. And finally the NYC friend who is moving to Tokyo faster than you can say Mitsubishi. I’ve known all of them for a couple of years now, and shared unforgettable moments with each of them. And although I never considered them to be the closest of friends, something triggered inside of me when they told me about the new place they’ll be calling home. It made me realize… we’re adults… how did this happen? And how do we make it stop?

As happy and proud as I am for the strides they’ve made in their respective careers, a part of me wants to hold them back. I just want to keep everyone at bay and continue pretending that the status quo hasn’t really shifted at all. Yet I’m forced to face reality as I share the last supper, throw the farewell party, and wave goodbye to each one of them… one by one.

I asked one of them if he will stay in Tokyo permanently, and even though he said he doesn’t know, it unnerves me because we take comfort in the possibilities that come with the unknown. He may hate it and move back, or he could fall madly in love and settle there forever. Granted, the pendulum can swing either way, but right now… the only direction destiny is taking him is two continents and an ocean away from me. I guess it’s nice to know that no matter where life takes you, the ones you love, are just a call, email, and a plane ride away.

Ironically enough, I was scheduled to fly out the day after they all shocked me with their big news. Let me tell you – nothing is quite saddening as sitting at the airport wondering how this is the very place that both unites and divides people. This is where people come to venture off into the world – be it near or far. This is where people come to go to a place they call home. This is the place where people shed tears and embrace closely one last time. This is the place where people jump into the arms of their lovers. All the ironies in the world, reside under this one roof.

Later that day, as I was sitting idly on the plane, looking out the window into the bright horizon, I wondered about what my friends will think as their flight approaches their destinations. Home sweet home? Shit, where am I? You look out below and see sparkling water, enormous buildings, and wonder how soon enough… you’ll be among them – perhaps seamlessly… perhaps not. Whatever your fears may be, as soon as that rubber meets the runway, it all comes to a standstill and you hear the attendant over the speakers, “Welcome, we have arrived…”

When I finally returned from my trip, and was waiting (and waiting and waiting) at the baggage claim, it occurred to me how the carousel is quite analogous to our lives. (Yep, here comes another wacky analogy). We stand there, waiting for something to appear – something we can claim as our own, hold, carry, and be gone with it. Yet we see others get it first, and wonder when will it be my turn? When will I get what I want? But unlike the conveyor belt, life isn’t guaranteed to deliver us anything – only the things we’re destined for, and the things we work hard towards. And I believe that if work is done right – it not only opens up new windows of opportunities, it can open up the sky for you.