Barreling into Boston

I was missing again last week...you know, in case you were looking.

If you were looking and you found me, let me know where I was because sometimes life gets confusing.

Like when you go to grab the only decent black belt you own that actually buckles around your seemingly ever expanding waist, and you can’t seem to find it—the belt, not your waist—because it too is missing.

Which is a problem because you’re packing basically the only pair of big boy pants you own in order to attend your nephew’s wedding up in Boston and you’ll look kind of silly if you tie a length of clothes line around your middle....again.

Not that the only pair of big boy pants you own would fall down or anything. No...not when you have to shoe horn yourself into them, while holding your breath and sucking in your stomach.

So there’s that kind of confusing.

Not to mention scanning through every photo of every dress up event you’ve attended in the last 4 years to ensure you’re not wearing the exact same shirt and tie...again...because as we all know, people compare pictures just to catch you in a fashion faux pas, which is much worse, apparently, than being caught in a fashion for real pas.

Enough said....

So I was heading off to Boston without a belt.

Not to mention as a participant in a new “shared suitcase” experiment, designed to lessen the amount of luggage lugging from here to there...and there to here.

Which—in theory—is a good idea, except I normally have a very precise method of packing my own suitcase, which to the uninformed might seem somewhat “unorthodox” but makes perfect sense...at least to me.

I know where everything is at any given moment and don’t have to dig around for my foot massager should the need arise.

However, in a “shared suitcase” scenario the possibility exists that said foot massager may not be found in its long designated, convenient location and therefore may not be available for instant retrieval should the need arise to relieve a sudden and unexpected foot cramp, which may or may not result in much screaming and yelling, much to the dismay of the cashier at McDonalds.

Enough said....

But, all in all, Z and I are pretty compatible travel companions.

We each have our roles.

I drive and Z sleeps.

Which works out pretty well, because when Z doesn’t sleep we’ve been known to politely disagree over such trivial things like choice of music, air conditioner setting, speed limit, carefully engineered and thought out lane changes...and whether or not to turn east or west at the Hartford interchange.

It’s west, by the way...but east is nice too.

And since I put an extra Benadryl in Z’s tea that morning, there was hardly any criticism...at least none that was sustained.

Being a reasonable driver, let alone, travel companion, I eventually gave in and allowed Gladys from Google to lead us and from there forward, I have to admit, it was smooth sailing all the way.

We even made a side stop at Walden to check back in on Henry David and to walk the simplified footpaths of enlightenment, which fortunately led right to the rest rooms.

Then it was straight on into the Back Bay section of Boston, which compared to any section of NYC moves at such a quiet, unhurried pace that driving across its civilized avenues requires no cursing, finger waving or annoying horn blowing...which is not appreciated...apparently.

And the locals were pretty friendly, too. I asked a couple how to find my way to the actual bay—front or back; I wasn’t picky—just to sit on the dock, waste some time and watch the tide roll away....

However, for some reason no one could give me a straight answer, at least one I could understand.  It was difficult making sense of what they were saying, I guess because of their Boston accents...plus all the laughing didn’t help.

Laughter aside, we stayed in a nice trendy “boutique” hotel, which only took several trips around the block to find since the “boutique” entryway was little more than the size of our front door.

But once checked in we were pleased to find our “boutique” room overlooked the famous finish line of the famous Boston Marathon.

And while our stylish “boutique” room may have been a tad on the small size, it was more than comfortable...plus showering while still in bed turned out to be quite a time saver.

Of course, like most tourists, we managed to take in a lot of the local, historical sites. After some hesitation I downloaded one of those ride share apps to my smart-ass-phone...and I have to say, all my concerns were for naught.  It made all the difference in getting from here to there...and there to here, in no time.

In fact, once we payed the initial ransom demand and crawled out of that musty old basement, we were only 20 minutes late for our dinner reservation in the North End.

Nah...I’m kidding. There was no ransom demand.

I like to think of it as more of a loan.

All in all it was a great trip and a great weekend.

Oh...and did I mention it was a great wedding, as well.

The venue was the Boston Public Library, under a full moon.

And while you might think having a wedding at a library is somewhat unconventional, it really wasn’t at all; especially since the bride is a doctoral candidate at Harvard and was able to dance, party and work on her dissertation, all at the same time.

Pretty smart thinking, huh? I guess that’s why she goes to Harvard.

And since the groom is my nephew and shares my DNA...well, you know....

So congrats Kyle and Lexi...the best is yet to come.

Just don’t share a suitcase.... 

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