Suddenly …
(September 24, 2025)
Suddenly … (September 24, 2025)
Decades ago, one day in June, suddenly, an impulse took me; I must see the east. A few days later, early in the morning, I went to the bus station at 7th street, and got on a bus to the east.
A few weeks later, I arrived Portland ME, and got on a transfer to the further east. On the evening of the same day, the bus arrived the terminal. It stopped in front of a roadside “bus stop” sign post. I don’t remember the name of the place. But it was as far east as I could go. I didn’t dare hitch-hiking and border-crossing.
It was a pleasant summer evening. Flat grass fields spread along both sides of the road with patches of shrubs here and there. There were a few houses, shops, and lodges. The sun was setting to the west, and the eastern sky was getting dark. I visited a hotel, and asked for a room. The manager was a sixty-ish man in generic checkered-cotton shirt. He saw in me a young backpacker with tight budget, and suggested to ask for a room in another lodge across the street because the place would offer prices a few bucks lower. The manager was reticent, but I felt New England hospitality. I thanked him and left. I found a room in the lodge across the street. Although I was tight in budget, that evening, I ordered a New England lobster at a nearby grill. Soon I was served with a huge boiled lobster on a plate with a hot butter in a cup. It was the best meal throughout my round trip to the east. I had good meals here and there affordable within my tight budget. But the lobster plate was truly a indigenous New England treat. It was a joyous experience.
That night, I went to bed early. (Until then, I slept many nights on buses.) I thumbed through pages of a paperback (Night Shift (1978) by Stephen King) which I got at a newspaper stand of a bus depo somewhere back on the road, and fell asleep soon.
Next morning, I got on a bus back to the west. I didn’t take any excursion in New England. I felt I saw the east, and I was satisfied. The view from the bus window, forests and coast lines, were beautiful, and fascinated me.
Years later, one day, I watched Scream (1996). Then, within a few days, I watched I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997). They are well-scripted, enjoyable slasher movies with one difference. In Scream, a group of teen agers is hunted by a strange slasher in the west coast, while in I Know What You Did Last Summer, a group of teen agers is hunted by a strange slasher in the east coast. These movies reminded me the visit to the east and its difference from the west. In the east, I felt the air was cool but humid. On the other hand, the air is warm but dry in the west. Of course, Scream is a story taking place in the southern west coast. The air along the northern west coast is felt somewhat like the east coast. For example, the air of Bodega Bay in The Birds (1963) is felt like the east coast. The Fog (1980), which was filmed on location at Bodega Bay and Point Reyes, is felt like a story taking place in the east coast.
The east coast air appeals to our imagination. Mysteries of ancient worlds are hidden in New England. The Shadow over Innsmouth (1936) pleasantly reminds me my bus rides along the east coast. Some of the stories in Night shift (1978) take place in New England.
Dear my friend. I believe that when you were young, you were also caught by the sudden impulse that drove you go over the other side of mountains.
I don’t know when and where yet, but I know for sure that my son will go too. It is a privilege granted to young people.
References:
The Birds (1963), produces and directed by Alfred Hitchcock, and distributed by Universal Pictures.
The Fog (1980), produced by Debra Hill, directed by John Carpenter, and distributed by AVCO Embassy Pictures.
I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997), produced by Neal H. Moritz and Erik Feig, directed by Jim Gillespie, and distributed by Columbia Pictures.
Scream (1996), produced by Cathy Konrad and Cary Woods, directed by WesCraven, and distributed by Dimension Films.
King Stephen, Night Shift (1978).
Lovecraft, H. P., The Shadow over Innsmouth (1936).
