It's been a month since I came home from my husband's and my trip to Boston. Boston Red Sox were playing the Texas Rangers at Fenway Park (the Green Monster). The Women's Olympic Trials were the day before the Boston Marathon. The tiny State of Massachusetts was buzzing with electricity.
I found I loved this city. I saw more people walking and riding bikes than anywhere else I've been. While I am no world traveler, I've done some traveling. Walking to the subway, from the subway...a few blocks here, a few blocks there. Definitely, a healthy way to get around. I did a lot of walking. It felt great.
My husband, Andy and I were there for his first Boston Marathon. I say first because I have already reserved hotel reservations for next year, so a second marathon is definitely in the works.
My husband made his flight arrangements a couple of weeks earlier than I did. He was going to go alone and meet up with his brother, Charlie, an avid marathoner. He really wanted me to go, and twisted my arm until I finally made my own flight. Actually he didn't have to twist it, I was just hesitant because I didn't want to do some damage to our savings. So we went on separate flights. Mine was a direct flight (worth every penny spent for it) and I got there an hour ahead. The plan was that we meet at the hotel.
I hadn't been on a plane in almost 18 years, but I got the hang of getting an e-boarding pass and going through TSA to get to plane. My oh my, times have changed in the airline industry.
I took the airport shuttle to the subway station and begun my Bostonian journey with my first subway ride. I just loved that escalator there. It made lugging my carry-on bag and large, old, trusty suitcase so easy. Initially, I had felt anxious about getting around on this strange form of transportation called a subway, the escalator was definitely a familiar ride. It made the baggage haul easy-breezy.
After getting my 7-day pass and $6 in dollar coins, the attendant there gave me directions as to how to ride this system to my hotel. Luckily, our hotel was directly across the street from Fenway, so I could have asked a 5 year old Boston kid for directions and he could have got me to my destination.
Here I was, this Texas hick of a gal, taking my first ride and I had to stand and hold on to the bars that go across the length of the care because all of the seats were taken. No biggie...I just anchored my legs around my bags and held on. I couldn't help it but when that thing took off, I accidently let a good ol' Texas "Woo-hoo" out. First thing I do when I get to Boston is embarrass myself. Sheepishly, I apologized to those nearby with a "Sorry, but it's my first time on one of these thangs."
It was my first stop off to change subways that I had to carry my luggage up 2 flights of stairs, no escalators, no elevators -- STAIRS. I had to take yet another flight of stairs from that level to get to the right subway line. It's one thing to do this by yourself, but with my large suitcase and barely a year after heart surgery, this was a major ordeal. And guess what, I made it to the top.
Then, another subway ride, to another station....and guess what? STAIRS....so I waited for almost everyone who got off with me to go first up those darn (I'm being a lady here) stairs. Lugging them up, step by step, inch by inch, I got them up those next 2 flights of stairs. Then I took a breather. I was definitely feeling it. My own marathon of steps. I was determined, mind you.
Finally, my last ride to the hotel. I was able to get a seat on this one. It was nice to rest my dogs. The albatross of a suitcase next to me, like a chain connected to a large ball and heck, an anvil attached to it, too. I thought about how I packed it and had left room for souveniers and stuff, thinking it was good that I had it to to take on a trip.
However, that last ride to the hotel, I looked at it like it was an evil burden or a type of penance. I wasn't sure which but I retired it that day to a life of storage in one of my closets at home.
With a little breather, I made to the last stop and got to the stairs that went to the street level. The Mother of ALL STAIRS. One long flight up the steepest stairs I've encountered all the way there. I waited for the crowd to go up and once again, somehow, someway, made it to the top.
And there it was....Home...at least for the next 5 days. By the way, I found an elevator in the subway stop by our hotel. It made going down to board our ride so easy. GRRRRR
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