They're everywhere I look. Flip-flops, backward hats, polo shirts tucked into shorts a 60-year-old would wear. No, not tourists; they would be wear hiking boots, long, white socks and fanny packs. No, these are college students, and they — roughly 250,000 in Boston and Cambridge — are returning to Boston in droves.
The street on Saturday — and I'm not exaggerating here — was choked with U-Hauls, trucks loaded down with beds and furniture, and other moving vans.
I went out to the Back Bay Saturday night after I finished work, and the area sidewalks were alive with groups of students, fraternity boys and teens leading around parents with wide eyes and pants worn too high on the waist.
As I sat near the subway entrance, waiting for my friend, I started to feel ... old. The gap between 18 and 25 seemed a lot bigger than the arithmetic seems.
Meanwhile, another emotion was brewing: The fact that I didn't really have much of a college experience — I stayed in town and finished my four-year degree in three years — made me a little envious. I'm sure it must feel exciting, particularly for a student in the Boston area: They're on their own for the first time, going to a great school in an equally great city. I felt almost overwhelmed when I got here; I can't imagine experiencing this city as an 18-year-old.
Anyway. Now, I've come to my senses, and the college students serve as a source of annoyance for me. They're like tourists who never leave, except when they stop in the middle of the sidewalk, despite the foot traffic around them, it's not to stare open-mouthed at a map; it's to high-five each other.
Jesus.
On the other hand, a benefit to having them here is the incredible back-to-school sales, designed to lure in the platinum-card-wielding parent. I bought a bunch of clothes today for a fraction of what I would've paid any other day.
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