Bos-ton

Boston: (n) a seaport in and the capital of Massachusetts.

The drive to Boston was short and stress free and thanks to my coffee date with Peter, and the excitement of visiting Boston for the first time, I arrived with plenty of energy, ready to hit the town. Paul, my English friend from Camp Henry, greeted me on the street of his Massachusetts home. Inside his host family was preparing dinner while what seemed like an endless blur of unfamiliar faces passed in and out of the room. Welcome to Boston. Actually, we were technically in Arlington, a suburb of Boston, but it was close enough for me. It wasn't until we all sat down to eat before I was finally able to sort out who was who. Michelle and Emily and their two daughters were the permanent residents of this house and were hosts to Paul and David, who are both from England. The remaining faces, unaccounted for at the dinner table, showed up shortly thereafter for our night out. Nate, also from England but living just down the street, Nicola, Nate's English friend who had also just arrived in Boston for a visit, other Paul, who I know very little about, David, Paul and I all squeezed into one car which was destined for T's karaoke bar. According to the boys it was the place to be in Boston on a Tuesday night and according to the crowd they were correct. The 6 of us huddled around a small table near the dance floor while the bar filled to capacity. Only a few drinks into the night the karaoke list made its way to our table and the British boys put in their request for "Wonderwall" a song in which their accents worked to their advantage. From there it was PBR, table talk, dancing, photos...

My internal alarm clock had me wide awake by 9:30, my head kept me lying in bed until noon when Nate arrived and insisted on beginning the day. When I returned from my morning, or should I say afternoon, run there was yet another new face. Kay, from England of course, would be joining Paul, Nate, Nicola and I on our tour of Harvard. Already half the day gone, we climbed into the car and drove straight to campus. Our first stop was the football stadium. Much smaller than I had expected, but then again how many people really watch ivy-league football anyway? From there we walked into town to explore the rest of campus. Similar to Ann Arbor, the city and the university campus are very integrated with an extra bit of hustle and bustle from the brilliant minds which make up Harvard and the absolute chaos of the Boston roadway system. This old town was well established before the grid system found its place in the United States urban landscape, which has resulted in instances such as star-shaped, 7-way intersections and very confused drivers. Regardless, campus was magnificent and would have been excellent for people-watching had I not gone nearly 20 hours without food. Nate shared my hunger pains and nominated Chipotle as our cure. Paul, not hungry, brought the car around while Nate and I feasted on our oversized burritos before the return to Arlington in time for practice. For a few hours every weekday evening Paul, and the rest of the crew from England, coach youth soccer. During this time I was able to visit with Emily. It wasn't long before the house was full again with the rest of Emily's family and the soccer coaches, who all dined with us before Paul and I left for Cape Cod. Michelle and Emily own a condo in Provincetown, located at the very end of the cape, and offered it to us for a few days. Paul was able to take a day off from coaching which gave us until Friday afternoon to return. Full from yet another delicious home cooked meal, we began our mini road trip to P-town. Though the drive was only a few hours, it was nice to have a co-pilot in the Mustang. By the time we arrived at the cape we had just minutes to pick up some food at the mini-market and choose a movie before everything closed. At this point neither of us were tired, seeing as we had only been awake for about 12 hours. So after settling in and receiving a tour of the condo, we took a night tour of the town and the beach. While the walk was enjoyable, it was not a successful way to gain my bearings. Everything looks so different in the dark.

Thursday morning I was wide awake again by 9 and without the after affects of a night out. My morning run doubled as a re-orientation to the layout of Provincetown and was a true success. As it turns out, the town was much simpler than it seemed the night before and literally was located at the VERY end of Cape Cod. During my run I caught a glimpse of blue skies through the morning's gray which surprised me as the forecast had called for rain the entire duration of our cape trip. Excited, I hurried back to the condo for a shower and breakfast to complete my morning and to start what was looking to be a promising day. Of course, Paul was still asleep. It was well after noon by the time we left the condo and the sun was shining bright. A rock jetty at the end of the street stretched out into the sand dunes, we started there. Two light houses stood on either side toward the end of the jetty; that was our destination. Just over the dunes, waves from the open sea crashed onto the beach where we walked to the lighthouse. The doors were locked on what was not an entirely impressive structure, but we passed some time there anyway. On the return to the condo, Paul insisted on counting the number of rocks that made up the distance of the walk from the beach to the road. After walking across 1060 rocks in the sun I was ready for a swim. For as late in the season as it was, the water was not bad. The crab that crawled across my foot was more startling than the temperature of the ocean. Swimming cooled me down and most certainly tired me out. Back in town we browsed around the quirky P-town shops and toured the main street in daylight. That was the last of my energy, so I had a nap before dinner in town which was the last of our night.

Friday morning's run took place in a dense fog, literally. With not much to see, we packed up the condo and started back to Arlington. Fog turned to rain the minute we left the driveway and fell steadily all the way "home." Despite the rain, everyone still had soccer practice which gave me a few evening hours to decompress from the drive and spend some more time chatting with Emily and a new face, Lauren, also from England. Splashed in mud, coaches and players returned to the house. Almost immediately a long anticipated quarrel concerning a vehicle erupted between David and Paul. Pretending to be occupied with incoming text messages, Lauren and I migrated into another room until the storm passed. Michelle, Emily and the kids had plans elsewhere which meant the rest of us were on our own for dinner. We progressively became more indecisive as more people showed up. Eventually we had given up on going out for a meal and elected to order in curry. Shortly after the food and the rest of our party arrived the topic of the car resurfaced and round two of the quarrel began. Lauren and I left immediately along with another guest, and occupied ourselves until nearly 11:30. At the end of it all, Paul and I were the only two left for a night on the town which was short lived anyhow.

Saturday morning came far too early. Rhea, my friend from the University of Michigan who now lives and works in Boston, was expecting me for breakfast. Shamefully, I skipped my morning run and rushed to Brighton, where she lives. Rhea put on pot of coffee while her roommate Andrew fried us some eggs. We gabbed over breakfast then finished getting ready for our day at the Life is Good music festival. Our tickets were for the first day of the two day festival. Saturday headliners included Tristan Prettyman, Martin Sexton, Michael Franti, Ingrid Michaelson, and The Avett Brothers, all of my favorites, among others. Again rain had been forecasted all day and not a single drop fell. Though humid, the weather was fantastic. After listening to a few of the opening bands, we wandered by the tents and activities on the festival grounds. For whatever reason we opted to enter the Reebok tent and not 2 minutes after being inside I heard my name being called. Mark Russel, an acquaintance from high school who I had not seen or spoken to since, was sitting on the display in his Reebok representative uniform. We chatted for a bit before Rhea and I left to go catch the next act. SMALL WORLD! Just wait. Later that afternoon we walked by the Martin guitars tent where an open-mic event was set up. Whoever performed a song at the open-mic was automatically entered into a drawing for a Martin guitar. My lust for a new Martin and a big push from Rhea got me onto the small stage. From across the lawn Amy VanHaren, a former Camp Henry staff member, recognized me singing and made her way over to say hello. SHE was at the festival for work as well. Our next must see act was about to begin, so after a short game of catch-up and a photo, Rhea and I rushed off to the stage. Michael Franti, Ingrid Michaelson and Avett Brothers all played back to back. We could barely stand by the end of it all, but that would not stop us from going out later that night. Back at Rhea's apartment we found Andrew in the same position on the couch as we had left him earlier that day. Exhausted, yet determined, we showered again and took a cab into town. Rhea was anxious to meet my British friends after hearing a few stories, so we met up with Paul, Nate and Nicola at a bar in Faneuil Hall. A few drinks and a very long "it'll be great!" conversation with Nate later, it was last call and time to go home. My friends had told me that getting a cab in Boston was difficult, and that night I learned why. Rhea was nearly road kill after charging into the middle of the street multiple times screaming at every cab that drove by. Eventually somebody stopped and we forced our way into the car. Once on our way, Rhea took the opportunity to interrogate our cab driver as to why empty cabs will not stop for people looking for a ride. The answers she received were less than acceptable, which only amplified the conversation, but soon turned into, "Sir, if you do not hurry and get us home I am going to URINATE on this seat!" I too had a bladder on the verge of bursting and the comedy of what was going on in the front of the cab was not helping. Finally he pulled over into a Walgreens, which was closed, so Rhea and I had no other choice than the bushes near the edge of the parking lot.

We slept in far too long the next morning. Late for our day in Boston, I once again skipped my morning run. Rhea and I took the rail into town to explore the city in the light of day. With a couple of her friends, we strolled up and down the strip window shopping and people watching. The humidity was high again and our discomfort could only be cured with one thing: ice cream. Refreshed, yet bored of our current location, we moved on to Faneuil Hall for the day scene. A large and beautiful market was buzzing with shoppers and tourists. We joined the bustle for a couple of hours and before long, it was time to leave. Rhea had to pick her boyfriend up from the airport, and I had a stop in Arlington to make before the evening's drive to Connecticut. It was approximately at that moment when we decided to leave the city center that the world began working against me, or so it felt. Sparing the frustrating details, by the time I arrived in Arlington over two hours later tension had completely overtaken my body and emotions which was partially released in a bit of vent to Paul the moment I walked in the door. A hug and a deep breath later we joined the rest of the family in the next room for dinner. Still wound up, I retired to the living room for some relaxation before I hit the road again. When I opened my eyes to see that it was 9:30 p.m. I had a slight panic attack. I phoned Ana, my friend in New Haven, immediately. We both agreed a 3 and 1/2 hour drive that late was not practical, I would stay in Arlington and leave in the morning. Upon hearing this news, Paul invited the whole British crew over for a movie which gave me a perfect opportunity to say a proper goodbye to my new friends.