Another airport. Another city.
Another chance to find my way to an unknown destination. I tap on the Lyft app: $30 to my destination and the possibility of having to talk to strangers. Sometimes, it’s easier to turtle oneself into alone-comfort. Especially after a people-packed five hour plane ride where my seat mate knocked over my full glass of water. He reminded me of my father, and I worked hard to put him at ease, to convince him I wasn’t wet.
I'm determined to try the MBT--Massachusetts Bay Transit, specifically the subway system to avoid afternoon traffic. I've always wanted to try public transportation from the airport into the city, but no one I'm with will ever give it a go. I even packed a small carryon, secretly knowing I would try the MBT.
I find the information booth and learn I must take the silver line bus to south station where I transfer to the red line to my final destination. When the silver line bus stops at each airport terminal, I'm nervous I'm mistakenly on the intra airport shuttle.
“Am I on the airport shuttle or will this bus take us to south station?”
The girls sitting across tell me it’s the airport shuttle only, but I am saved by a young man who interrupts, “No it will take you to south station.”
When the bus stops, a petite woman with a heavy British accent asks if it is the World Trade stop. “That was the last stop,” a young woman answers. The British woman is ruffled and tries to hurry off complaining in her high pitched royalty voice, that her bag is heavy and she cannot move quickly. Wicked smiles break out on the faces watching her move off the bus. When the next bus stop is really the World Trade stop, I gasp knowing she was given erroneous information too. The British are still mistreated in Boston.
Clearly I am better off following my own wit, and I feel triumphant as I exit at the the right stop then sleuth my way underground to the inbound subway that ends at Alewife when it might have been just as easy to mistakenly take the red line outbound to Braintree.
I climb up and out of the subway and enter a bustling New England village. It's quaint, charming and has the same energy as a mini New York, yet my first impression is interrupted when I turn to the source of the Star Wars theme song blasting from a blue Mercedes convertible. The driver is Darth Vadar. Really. It is Darth Vadar or rather, a man in costume on a dare. Welcome to Cambridge. A mix of the old, the future, the studious, and the playful.
When I cross the Charles River, the bridge is dedicated to a Harvard graduate who was also a Civil War soldier. The dedication is from the boy's father and history hits a sad note. I eat my dinner in John F Kennedy Memorial Park and see the Zapruder film play out in my mind.
I walk through Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Park, American poet 1807-1882, and oh...Walden Pond is just a 25 minute car ride away, but I won't have time.
There is so much history condensed into this city, and I won't have enough time to see it all--but no one has enough time to see it all, to do it all. So, the challenge is to savor, to breathe in, to enjoy what we have, what we can do and see, and always, always, to take care not to follow anyone's directions except our own--lest they lead us from the place we want to arrive at most.
Another chance to find my way to an unknown destination. I tap on the Lyft app: $30 to my destination and the possibility of having to talk to strangers. Sometimes, it’s easier to turtle oneself into alone-comfort. Especially after a people-packed five hour plane ride where my seat mate knocked over my full glass of water. He reminded me of my father, and I worked hard to put him at ease, to convince him I wasn’t wet.
I'm determined to try the MBT--Massachusetts Bay Transit, specifically the subway system to avoid afternoon traffic. I've always wanted to try public transportation from the airport into the city, but no one I'm with will ever give it a go. I even packed a small carryon, secretly knowing I would try the MBT.
I find the information booth and learn I must take the silver line bus to south station where I transfer to the red line to my final destination. When the silver line bus stops at each airport terminal, I'm nervous I'm mistakenly on the intra airport shuttle.
“Am I on the airport shuttle or will this bus take us to south station?”
The girls sitting across tell me it’s the airport shuttle only, but I am saved by a young man who interrupts, “No it will take you to south station.”
When the bus stops, a petite woman with a heavy British accent asks if it is the World Trade stop. “That was the last stop,” a young woman answers. The British woman is ruffled and tries to hurry off complaining in her high pitched royalty voice, that her bag is heavy and she cannot move quickly. Wicked smiles break out on the faces watching her move off the bus. When the next bus stop is really the World Trade stop, I gasp knowing she was given erroneous information too. The British are still mistreated in Boston.
Clearly I am better off following my own wit, and I feel triumphant as I exit at the the right stop then sleuth my way underground to the inbound subway that ends at Alewife when it might have been just as easy to mistakenly take the red line outbound to Braintree.
I climb up and out of the subway and enter a bustling New England village. It's quaint, charming and has the same energy as a mini New York, yet my first impression is interrupted when I turn to the source of the Star Wars theme song blasting from a blue Mercedes convertible. The driver is Darth Vadar. Really. It is Darth Vadar or rather, a man in costume on a dare. Welcome to Cambridge. A mix of the old, the future, the studious, and the playful.
When I cross the Charles River, the bridge is dedicated to a Harvard graduate who was also a Civil War soldier. The dedication is from the boy's father and history hits a sad note. I eat my dinner in John F Kennedy Memorial Park and see the Zapruder film play out in my mind.
I walk through Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Park, American poet 1807-1882, and oh...Walden Pond is just a 25 minute car ride away, but I won't have time.
There is so much history condensed into this city, and I won't have enough time to see it all--but no one has enough time to see it all, to do it all. So, the challenge is to savor, to breathe in, to enjoy what we have, what we can do and see, and always, always, to take care not to follow anyone's directions except our own--lest they lead us from the place we want to arrive at most.
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