Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Faraway Adventures: Boston II

I have been to Boston many times, but this was my first venture completely solo. No one came with me, no was waiting at the airport for me. I will admit that there was a little seed of worry, but then I told myself that I know this city like the back of my hand, then I felt the winds of winds of freedom and excitement.  
After a short flight (almost the same time as my daily commute!), I landed in Boston and busted off the plane, taking out a couple of old people, small children and the flight attendant who couldn’t stop mentioning that he was Yankees fan.  I was only going to be in the city for less than 48 hours, so I just had a back pack with a change of clothes, which, by the way, is a great way to travel.  I quickly hopped on  the T and was off to the JKF Library. Just riding the T brought back so many memories; taking the red line down to South Boston for the St. Patrick’s Day Parade, taking the orange line to Bruin games, the green line to my sister’s house and Fenway. I couldn’t help smiling as the stops were announced. I also couldn’t get the song, Charlie on the M.T.A out of my head:
Did he ever return,
No he never returned
And his fate is still unlearn'd
He may ride forever
'neath the streets of Boston
He's the man who never returned


The JKF Presidential Library and Museum overlooks the water on the campus of UMASS, Boston. The building, as well as the weather, that day was gorgeous.  Highlights of the tour included  the recreations of the JFK’s oval office and RFK’s Attorney General’s office. I met a lovely family from Ireland in the gift shop. Of course, I would meet an Irish family there. Of course.  




For lunch I wandered up to Cambridge to get my favorite sandwich in the world; the Sweet Potato sandwich from  Crèma Café . It has all my favorite things in between two slices of bread: roasted sweet potato, humus, avocado, and green apple. What a hippie.
I took it to go and ate it outside on a pistachio colored table in Harvard Yard. At the next table over a group of young gentleman were having a lively discussion . . .in posh English accents . . .about poetry. Really. I felt like I was in a movie.  Harvard was just starting the semester, so every inch of campus was filled with mobs of people with chips on their shoulders.  I strolled through the campus and nearby streets for a while, even stopping to listen to a couple of white haired gents play their banjos on a street corner.  The afternoon was quickly blending into early evening so I headed to my hotel.

Note on the hotel: I picked it purely because of location. It is a five minute walk to Fenway, tops. I knew after the concert I wouldn’t want to be wandering around the streets of Boston.  The hotel was ok, but it did have it quirks.
As I was freshening up for the concert in my hotel room’s bathroom, I noticed that the door handle was funny. Too bad this thought didn’t occur to me until after I had shut the door.  The handle/lock was funny alright, as in broken. I found myself locked in the bathroom. With no one on the other side of the door. Without my cell phone. With the Dropkick Murphys concert starting in 30 minutes. Awesome. 
Honest to the Big Guy in the sky, this was my thought process: Well, I have seen every episode of Law & Order, and they are always breaking into drug dealers and other questionable persons’ houses. I just need to pretend this is one of those episodes and break down the door.  So I did the whole ram your shoulder at the door thing. Nothing. Tried it again while jiggling the door knob. Still broken. Still locked in.
Then I prayed, with purpose and fervor like they teach you in Sunday School. A lot of fervor.  Door still locked.
I shouted, “I am not missing a concert because I am trapped in the stupid bathroom,” although I used a more colorful stupid word, and kicked at the door a couple times.
It open.
Freedom.
Victory.
Take that,  crappy hotel bathroom door.
I grabbed my ticket and on my way to concert, I told the front desk they need to fix the bathroom door in my room. I neglected to tell them that I had just spent the last 20 minutes trapped behind that door.


In case you missed it:  Boston I, Boston IIIBoston IV, Good-bye Boston

1 comment :

  1. Mmmm, that sandwich sounds divine!!! You must describe it in further detail so I can pretend to recreate it in my humble kitchen...are we talking roasted sweet potatoes? sliced? mashed? I'm drooling already :) (BTW, we must get together soon and do dinner or something.)

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