One’s life in a backpack and duffel bag

By: Samual Turner 03/2001

I walked down the hall. The hall where many had gone before; walked nervously, strided confidently, staggered drunkenly, or even ran, screaming, wearing nothing but underwear, water flying in every direction as some other guy jogged after laughing as he whipped that rat’s tail onto his target’s rear as this pair did. I quickly jumped to the left and leaned against the wall as they ran from the communal bathroom behind me, down the hall, and around a corner. The Dreamcast in my old, beat up, black and gold backpack dug into my back as I realized how hard I was pushing myself against the wall.

I may have been technically a ‘mature responsible adult’. But that didn’t mean I had to give up the kid in me, I couldn't do that if I wanted to--it pretty much ran the place. Realizing how nervous I was, I stepped foreword and took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my now short sometimes-spiky hair. I liked it, but I was considering going back to the semi-fro I'd had for so long. It had been a part of who I was, and I was kind of attached to the past--well most of it anyway. Flipping my medallion through my fingers to calm myself down, I picked up my brand-spankin new duffel bag with all the stuff I actually needed, from where I dropped it. Stuff I needed in the new functional bag and all the crap I just wanted to bring in the old falling apart bag--wonder if there’s some sort of meaning in that.

Those bags plus what I was wearing, the old beat up 1986 Toyota Corolla with a quarter million miles and the habit of being a rally car in disguise, along with the thoughts in my head were all I had with me in the world now. And I'm sure there was more in my head than my bags and trunk combined. It’s always been like that with me; always keep the most important stuff in my head, even if it’s connected to a physical object. As this thought crossed my mind I looked at the medallion as I turned it from the dragon curled up on one side with smoke wisping from his nose, to the Pegasus on the other side, flying free in the clouds, the sun above him and the ground far below him. Reaching for my pocked I let the medallion go, the leather strap around my neck kept it up as it bounced against my chest, coming to a rest Pegasus side up. And why not? This was a good day, a day of celebration. I was on my own now. I was used to fending for myself and dealing with the real world, but I'd always had somebody to back me up incase things got hairy. Now it was time to see if I could stand on my own.

“And I'm gonna do it” I said out loud to nobody as I pulled my dorm assignment out of my pocket, this took a bit because it was in my jacket, and I forgot that both of my pockets had long ago gotten big holes in them and now opened into the lining of my dark blue jacket, I always thought that gave it personality, and it was always interesting to be rooting through your pockets and find a five dollar bill. But at times like this it was a real pain. Eventually I found it and pulled it out.

“Ok, here we go, Opal Hall Room 205. I got the right building, haven't gotten that senile yet. So where is 205?” Talking to myself was another thing I'd had for a long time, a habit I had tried to give up way back in High School but had failed, now I just tried to not do it around other people--something I wasn't having total success at.

I looked up and saw a door across the hall from me, Room 206.

“Wait a minute, that would mean...” I turned around and saw a door behind me, I hadn't been leaning against the wall. I looked up at the shiny bronze colored numbered plate on the door. Room 205.

“Weird man.”

But at least I'd found it, now all I had to do was get in. I dropped the duffel bag and winced as I heard a thud. Hoping nothing important was broken I started going through my pockets, first my pants--nothing. Then my jacket; the pocket inside--nothing, just some quarters and my car key still on the Mardi Gras key chain I got it on. Back to the outside pockets--this could take a while, after pretty much putting my arm through one pocket and out the other I resigned to the fact it wasn't in there.

Thinking back I remembered the day I got the room assignment and key, it was the day I got the duffel bag. I was carrying it with me as I stood in line with the other soon-to-be freshman. As the girl in front of me got heir's I noticed she was pretty cute, which meant she walked past me without even noticing I existed, nothing new there. Getting the key I stood there for a second staring at it, my first place, freedom, my place my rules. Any more thoughts were interrupted as the guy behind me laughed and gently pushed me out of the way.

“Hurry up already, if this place closes we’re all gonna be homeless till 9 tomorrow. You can stare at awe later.”

I laughed along with everybody else as I walked away and dropped the key in the duffel bag--

Back at the present remembering how much I shoved into that thing when I packed it I looked down at the bag.

“Crap”

Sighing and hoping nobody would come along to see my stupidity of having to dig through the entire bag for one stinking key, I opened up the main compartments leaving the smaller ones alone, I knew it wasn't in there, all that was in there were a few important papers folded up, schedules and IDs, BART tickets, my bus pass, and some books I knew I just had to bring; Raptor Red and a few others.

I pushed aside the clothes, some old, most new. I had a habit of falling in lose with a jacket or a pair of pants and wearing it out in a year, another reason I was so glad my jacket had lasted so long, it had memories, I'd done so much in this jacket, even if I didn't want to remember it all.

I pulled out the video camera case and carefully put it aside hoping that wasn't what caused the thud I'd heard a minute ago. That camera had done a lot with me, all the way from the two day road trip in the Nova to Monterey Bay Aquarium way back in High School, to the trip to the river, to the Giants on field party, to Mardi Gras, and even surviving our cross country trip in his old hippie van, this thing had memories too. Most of which I could watch on the videos I pulled out and put next to the camera--which was good cause I couldn't remember all of it anyway. These had been moments of freedom, where I forgot all the troubles of home, school, and work and just thought of the here and now and zoom function.

Going back to the bag I pulled out my new art book, I couldn't wait to start this one. Finishing the old one was one of the greatest accomplishments of this little artist’s life. I had the old one in my backpack; the final page filled in just yesterday. I worked on that thing for years and was sure I'd do the same for the next one, putting the black book down I got back to the business at hand, finding that damn key.

Finally, there it was, under a notebook and a few class books I'd picked up early. A little silver key on a orange paper key chain with a room number on it. The key to my future, to being a true adult, to proving to everyone who thought I couldn't do it and the few who did that I was more than I used to be, and most importantly--the key to my bed, I was exhausted.

Packing all the stuff carefully into my bag (making sure the camera stayed on the top), I got up, and picked up my backpack. A bag filled with games, books, art supplies, more books, and more games. Not a productive thing in the whole bag--just the way I liked it. I knew the next few years would be long and hard, but a guy needed the things that made him happy, some had their cars, some had their girls, some had their sports, I had my immature crap.

I knew that some people thought I was just an immature goof off, and others thought I was the most serious, stone-faced guy to never have a life. But I'd given up caring what people thought of me long ago--which explained the afro. This kind of blunt take on life had gotten me my first job (and my Dreamcast with my first check) and was probably one of the reasons I'd gotten into this school, even if my grades weren't that great, and I planned to make the best of this tiny bit of good fortune.

After putting my backpack on I picked up the duffel bag, slung it over my shoulder, and put the key in the lock pausing for one final thought. How many had gone through this door before me, had stood in front of this simple, dark brown door, stared at the bronze numbers, stood on the red worn down carped and stuck their key into this lock, how many had come with all the worries about their future, missing their past, and hoping the food in the Student Center didn't suck. Hoping that even with all their fears and worries they will still be able to--

“Ah, forget it. If I stand here much longer I'm bound to get run over by another half naked guy getting whipped by a wet towel.”

At those words of wisdom I unlocked the door and stepped through, into my new life, my future, to my new bed.