“Jenna! The shuttle’s here!”
     I hear my dad calling from downstairs as I race around my room, jamming last minute stuff into my backpack. After zipping it closed, I grab my backpack, run down the stairs, and find my dad standing at the open front door, holding our suitcases.
     “I’m ready,” I tell him.
     “Good,” he replies, “considering that we have to catch a ferry that’s leaving in ten minutes.”
     Dad gives me a stern look, but I know it’s all for show. He’s actually quite a pushover. For evidence, we have the fact that he’s the one leaving for a cross-country trip with me at four-thirty in the morning, while Mom’s upstairs, still snuggled deeply into dreamland.
     The shuttle driver is waiting in our driveway next to the van. He takes our suitcases to load into the back while Dad and I climb into the van and settle into our seats. As the driver returns to his seat in front of us he asks, “So where are you two headed so early in the morning?”
     “New York,” I reply.
     “Boston,” Dad says at the same time.
     The driver laughs. “So which is it?” he asks.
      “Both,” I answer. “We’re going to visit colleges in both cities.”
     “Wow,” the driver replies. “You’re going to school far from home. All the way to the East Coast from Bainbridge Island, Washington.”
     “But we won’t actually get off the island unless we make that ferry,” my dad helpfully points out.
     “No worries,” the driver says as he starts the van. “We have plenty of time. Here we go.”
     We pull out of our driveway, turn onto the highway, and head toward the ferry landing. To get to the airport we have to cross Puget Sound by ferry and then drive south on I-5. As I stare out the window at the dark houses we pass, I wait for the shuttle driver to ask me the dreaded question, now that he knows we’re going to visit colleges. I know he’ll ask the question. Everybody asks the question.
     “So what do you plan to major in?” he asks, locating me in the rearview mirror.
     Sigh. I know I can’t avoid the point blank question since there’s no one else in the van he could possibly be addressing. My dad doesn’t look quite like the typical high school senior. So here goes. Time for my stock answer.
     “I don’t really know yet,” I reply. “I have so many interests.”
     The driver nods, dissatisfied with my answer, I’m sure. But that’s my only answer at this point. I honestly don’t know yet what I want to do with the rest of my life. And I wish people would quit asking me that.
     Coasting down the final hill, we join the line of vehicles already boarding the early morning ferry. As our driver maneuvers the van into position on the ferry deck, he comments, “We’ll be picking up more passengers on the other side.”
     “Great. As long as we make our plane,” my dad grumbles.
     Ignoring my dad’s remark, the driver says, “I’m going up top for the crossing. Are you two coming?”
     Dad looks at me. I shake my head.
     “We’ll stay here,” he tells the driver.
     I know Dad doesn’t want to risk a moment’s delay by getting out of the van. And, I have to admit, I’m just as anxious to get to the airport as my dad. My entire future lies ahead of me, on the opposite coast, either in New York or Boston, and I can hardly wait to get there.
     After an uneventful crossing spent gazing out at the dark waters of the Sound, we pick up more passengers on the Seattle side and then speed down I-5 toward SeaTac airport. Everything goes smoothly and we actually arrive at the airport with time to spare. My dad almost smiles.
     In the waiting area, a grandmotherly looking woman sitting next to me tells me all about her destination. Of course she asks me about mine, too.
     “New York and Boston,” I tell her. “To visit colleges.”
     “That’s far away,” she informs me, in case I didn’t already know. “What do you plan to major in?”
     I trot out my stock answer and the woman nods and smiles, not satisfied with my answer, of course. I wish I had the perfect response to that question, but I just don’t. I really am interested in lots of different things. How am I supposed to know what I want to spend the next four years of my life studying? And then devote the rest of my life to doing?
     Settled into our seats on the plane, Dad promptly falls asleep. I gaze out the window, planning to watch the entire country pass by beneath me.
     During the flight I end up having the “Where are you headed?” and “What do you plan to major in?” conversation with three flight attendants and four fellow passengers. I almost feel like getting “New York”, “Boston”, and “I don’t know” tattooed across my forehead. I honestly think that would be less painful than repeating this same conversation over and over again.
     A few hours later, our plane touches down in New York City. I’ve never been here before, so I practically have my face plastered to the taxi window, trying to take it all in at once.
     The taxi drops us off right in front of our hotel.
     “Let’s check in and get some sleep,” my dad says. “We have a busy day tomorrow.”
     I stare at him. “But Dad, you slept for the entire flight. You can’t possibly still be tired. I thought we could do some sightseeing tonight.”
     “Tomorrow, Jenna,” Dad insists, and I relent, just glad that he’s willing to take me on this trip at all.
     The next two days pass by in a blur of colleges. We visit New York University, Cooper Union, and Columbia. All I remember of the colleges are lots of collegiate looking buildings and collegiate looking students and collegiate looking admissions people droning on about collegiate sounding things.
     And about a hundred and fifty people asking me what I want to major in.
     What stands out to me most from New York City is riding the subway. Underground, my dad and I, and thousands of fellow travelers, are whisked around beneath the city to our destinations. It’s so cool, exactly like in the movies. I almost don’t want to get off when we reach our stops and have to emerge back into daylight and join the throngs of pedestrians bustling around the city.
     After checking out of our hotel, Dad and I grab a bus to the train station. My dad thought it would be fun to take the train from New York to Boston. He knows I’ve loved train trips ever since my parents took me on my first Seattle to Portland run at the age of five.
     And the train ride is great, as always. I love watching the countryside and all the little towns and not so little cities slide past us. At the train station in Boston, Dad and I hail a taxi which transports us to our hotel.
     “Big day tomorrow,” Dad says as he stretches out on his bed.
     I nod in agreement and lay down on my own bed, admittedly tired, too. Over the next two days we plan to visit Boston University, Boston College, and Harvard, even though I know no way will I get into Harvard. But it will be fun to visit anyway, just to pretend I could actually go there. And I get to see Boston for real, not just the Boston I’ve seen on TV.
     The college visits in Boston pass by in another blur. So many faces speaking so many words at me. So many dorm rooms and dining halls and classrooms. So many people asking me about my major. So many polite smiles to my lame answer.
     But Boston itself is great. We ride the streetcar right through BU, watch the boats on the bay, and take a limo back to our hotel at the end of the day. Dad and I crash immediately upon reaching our hotel room on the final night.
     Our hotel provides a shuttle service which delivers us back to the airport the next morning. We’re early, so Dad and I grab seats in the waiting area and settle in.
     “Okay, Jenna,” Dad says. “I’m waiting for the verdict. Which city and which college are you going to choose? Provided they accept you, of course.”
     “I loved New York City,” I reply. “And I loved Boston. And all of the colleges seemed great. So I just don’t know yet.”
     My dad laughs. “I guess I’m not surprised to hear that from Jenna, the queen of indecision.”
     “But I did decide something, Dad,” I insist. “The answer to the question that everyone asks me all the time.”
     Dad sits bolt upright in his seat. “Not…not the major question?” he asks, clasping a hand to his chest in mock alarm.
     “Yes, that question,” I reply.
     “Do tell,” Dad urges me. “I’d love to know what it is I’m about to spend four years of my life funding.”
     “You know I’ve always had a lot of interests, Dad, but what I’ve learned about myself on this trip is that I really love transportation,” I explain. “Think about it. From our house to this waiting area we’ve ridden vans, a ferry, a plane, taxis, the subway, buses, a train, streetcars, and a limo. And I’ve loved all of it. All of this transportation is what makes it possible for me, a girl who lives on an island on the West Coast, to go to a college on the East Coast. It’s pretty amazing when you really think about it.”
     “So you want to major in vehicles?” my dad asks. “I’m not sure that’s an actual major.”
     Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I want to be involved in transportation in some way Dad, so I’m going to look into engineering majors. Maybe I’ll help design the next big breakthrough in transportation.”
     My dad smiles at me. “So this whole trip was worth it after all. And it’s a good thing you’ve got that decision made, because watch out. Little old lady heading your way.”
     I look up and see an elderly woman homing in on the empty seat right next to me. I know she’s going to sit there, and with my luck, she’ll be my seatmate all the way back to Seattle. And eventually she’ll ask me the dreaded question. But that’s actually okay now. Because even though I’m not sure which college I’ll end up going to, I finally know the direction my life is heading. Thanks to all the planes, trains, boats, and cars that have gotten me this far already.