Boston

Hey, what do you know? I finally have some time to write today.

So many things. What to write about? There is good and bad mingling in the air, gentle amusement and bitter irony, hope and despair... let's see, shall we? (Picture me wiggling my fingers over the keyboard as I try to decide...)

So I went to Boston this weekend with my friend Teresa as sort of a birthday trip, a catch-up-with-an-old-friend trip, and a take-a-break-from-life trip. I hadn't seen her in--we counted--at least 3 years! (Okay, honestly, we really didn't try very hard to count. It hurt our heads too much and besides it didn't matter the exact amount of time, 'cause either way, it was too long.)

We got there Thursday night late (all the thunderstorms Thursday meant neither of our flights took off until 10 pm) and checked into the hostel. Friday we got up (well, okay, Teresa got up, ran, showered, read the paper, talked to people, and was generally perky) and I slept until 11. Eventually when my lazy bum was up and about, we went walking around in the hot, hot, oh my GOD hohhht Boston air to see the sights. We went to Fanuiel Hall, bought bags full of candy in the candy shop, and got yelled at by the tour guide for both a) trying to sit in the balcony (who knew it was off-limits?) and b) eating candy. We are bad tourists. Renegades are we. Anyway. It was storming off and on all afternoon, and as we were walking through the Haymarket on the way to dinner, we got stuck in yet another downpour. You know that point where you're so sopping wet already that you stop even trying to hurry out of the rain, because what's the point? Yeah. Plus we were lost. Lost and wet and now cold. Doh.

Eventually we found Little Italy and a nice restaurant with a cute windowside table where the air conditioning wouldn't freeze us to death and in which the waitress was very nice to us even though we split entrees, thus making the check lower than normal (but don't worry--we still tipped her nice).

After that we went to the Improv Asylum and saw a really good comedy show, sort of half-SNL skits, half improv with audience participation. I'd never really gone to a comedy show before and this one was better than I expected. Tickets were 20 bucks each and we got to sit right down in front of this very intimate little stage--I highly recommend if you're going to Boston to check it out. It's in the North End, right by little Italy.

So at this point we were patting ourselves on the back--Boston was definitely a good choice for a vacation spot. It was clean, relaxed, and the people were really nice. We just flew by the seat of our pants (although technically, no pants were worn--it was too hot so I wore a skirt both days and Teresa wore shorts)... anyway, we flew by the seat of our pants, so to speak, all weekend, and we didn't need any other agenda because all the people we talked to told us things we should go do. We got really good recommendations from random people, like the Talbots lady who told us to eat lunch at this outdoor tea cafe, and the cab driver who told us to go on the duck tours.*

*Actually, we didn't go on the duck tours, but it was good advice anyway.

But oh, wait--now that I've mentioned that cab driver, I really must comment on the driving in Boston: WHOA. Our cab experiences there were worse than Ecuador or any other place I've been. What with the bloodthirsty speeding, complete disregard for lanes, and endangering of pedestrians. Going over 50 mph down narrow, winding, cobblestone side streets with cars parked on either side... so... many... accidents... impending... I was very aware we didn't have seatbelts on. Not cool. It wasn't until later in the weekend that Teresa and I commented to each other: "Hey, wasn't Massachusetts the one with the reputation for really bad drivers? Guess they weren't making that up."

On the other hand, I love Boston accents. They are so cute! (I'm sure Bostonians (Bostonites?) would be offended at the term "cute," but to me, they are--what can I say?) They talk with sort of a mild, friendly drawl that has a wisecracking edge and a sense of humor. I found the people to be open, not too uppity, and eager for conversation. Loved it.

Anyway, so that was Friday. Saturday was another annoying blend of alternately hohhhhht and POURING, but that morning we had each bought $6 umbrellas so that helped a little. We walked around the M.I.T. campus (so much smartness! Coming out the walls! Oh, you should have seen some of the professors' research that was posted on the bulletin boards! Water striders' footprints making fractal-like disturbances on the water's surface! Cross sections of human lungs! Brain patterns! And the smarty-pants summer camps, with the nerdy 10-year old boys sitting around in groups of 4 and 5, each with a laptop on their knees...)

Okay, anyway, so we did that, and then we met up with Teresa's friend Cheri and walked around Harvard a little, but we got sort of lost (which may or may not have been mostly my fault because I was too busy taking random pictures to watch where we were going... random pictures of which most of them got deleted anyway because they were dumb, like the one of the pretty red brick wall and the green garden hose on the white concrete with the dead tree in front of it. It looked cool to me, but I guess the camera didn't think so.)

We ate dinner at a random touristy place near the Government Center but that actually had a pretty good salad, so, bonus. Then Cheri had to head back home to the suburbs and Teresa and I went back to the M.I.T. campus. We had seen fliers earlier that day for a campus theater production and we decided, "Hey! That's what we should do tonight! That'll be so non-touristy of us! The real Boston life! It'll be like we're in college again!" Well, we were wrong. Apparently (and I guess this shouldn't have come as a shock to us), M.I.T. is not known for its fine arts program. The play was horrible. HORRRRible. Teresa and I both fell asleep and that was the most enjoyable part of the experience. As soon as the lights came on for the first intermission (yes, this play was to have 2 intermissions and 3 acts... HAYLL no....), we looked at each other, and simultaneously agreed to book it out of there as soon as we could, screw the 8 dollars we'd paid to get in. Whew. Close call. So, many good Boston decisions--obviously that was not one of them. But that's what adventures are made of, I guess.

We couldn't figure out anything else to do, and we had planes to catch in the morning, so we just went back to the hostel. There were some nice French girls staying in our room that night--they were all au pairs (you know, nannies who live with their families) who had the weekend off. We chatted for a while and then they went off somewhere--we weren't adventurous enough to go with them. Later on we found out their big event had been to go to McDonald's. Glad we didn't make the effort.

Mostly, that's the end 'cause we got up early and took the train to the airport the next day.

In conclusion, lots of fun, good to catch up with Teresa,
Boston = cool (but be careful crossing the street), and don't
go to a math school to watch a theatre production.

Q.E.D.

Question: What cities do you think have the nicest people? or, alternate question (love alternate questions): What cities have the worst drivers?

Big Event of the Day (today): Watch free movie in the park (Bringing up Baby with Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant)
Percent Chance: 13.7%

Las mañanitas

So my birthday is in exactly one week. Very exciting. It's been a big year. I'm sure I'll have something mildly self-reflective and maybe even amusing to mark the occasion. For now, though, I need to go to bed. (No, Garrett, I won't make you pay money for a new post, although I take it as a compliment that there is a tiny hole in your life on days when there is no Becky blog. Sigh. Ego, anyone? Yes, please, waiter--over here.)

It actually takes at least half an hour, sometimes an hour or more to write one. And I need to sleep. Especially if I'm going to achieve my goal, formerly attainable but that I haven't reached in at least a month and at this point I've pretty much stopped even trying, of waking up in time to take the bus that gets me to work on time as opposed to 5 minutes late.

That, and it'd be nice not to have my shower take longer than usual tomorrow morning because, for the 3rd day in a row, I keep finding myself unable to see anything....realizing, shortly thereafter, that it's because my eyes are closed.

Here's your question: Have you ever been to a wine tasting? What is your feeling on the people that go to them?
I went to one tonight. And, wow... snobby much?
.... Sometimes I think wines are overrated. A bunch of things that taste relatively the same, made out of the same stuff... Yet somehow it's an indicator of how educated and refined you are that you can describe the differences between them. You know, honestly, I like juice better. Why can't we have juice tastings? Stand around, decide which one has the crisper finish or melon undertones.... No, scratch that. ICE CREAM TASTINGS.
Okay, sorry. This is supposed to be your question. Please discuss.

Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): Laundry for my trip to Boston! (And plus I have no work clothes left, at least that don't require ironing, and who wants to iron in this weather?)
Percent Chance: Oh, let's be realistic. 6 pairs of underwear left, not counting an unopened package; a bathing suit that is technically dirty from lake water but that can be rinsed out in the sink; warm weather = sandals = socks not necessary; when lazy, just buy a new shirt instead of washing.... let's say a firm 50%.

Other People's Adventures

The other day at rush hour the blue line subway derailed and caused a fire. The tunnels filled up with smoke and the passengers had to be evacuated.

And I am allowed to say this now, because apparently everyone will be okay, that I think if I had been on that train, aside from being panicked and what not during, looking back later on, I'd think it was kinda cool. I would have gotten to be one of those privileged people who actually got to use the secret subway tunnels (I didn't even know they were there) and come out through a hatch in the sidewalk straight out onto the street! Something about that just captures my imagination.

On the CBS news clip (click on the video to the right), the flashy headline is "Blue Line Emergency." I find it interesting that they didn't say "Accident." Although I guess you could make the argument that "accident" has a more scary connotation (cut to the doctor breaking the news to the family members: "Your son/mother/uncle was in an accident..."). "Emergency" seems lighter somehow, that it was a tense situation but that, whew, everything turned out okay. Maybe they didn't want to scare viewers by worrying them that family members had died. What do you think?

Also, the passenger interviews, they make me think. Those people didn't know they were going to have a (near)-near-death experience that day. They also didn't know they were going to be on TV. Which is a good reminder to me that I should try not to look so dumpy/unglamorous when I'm out and about, 'cause wouldn't it suck if I got my once-in-a-lifetime random interview for the news and I looked horrible? Also, I'm reminded of the famous mothers' phrase (although mine never said it) to "always wear clean underwear in case you're in an accident." I think better advice would be (because who doesn't wear clean underwear? Eww) to always carry a cell phone.

Anyway.



Have you ever had to be evacuated from somewhere or be helped by emergency workers? Tell me stories.

Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): buy new swimsuit before this weekend! (I did return those other ones today, but no luck on finding a new one... of course, this may have to do with the fact that I spent the time from returning the swimsuits (7:00) to the time all the stores closed (9:00) at Forever 21 and Old Navy, not looking at swimsuits but instead trying on summer bar-hopping tops which I think are cute but even if I buy them I never wear them, so I don't know why I bothered....)
Percent Chance:
Of going to an actual swimsuit-carrying store and making an effort to shop for one: 91.77%
Of actually finding and purchasing a suitable (hee hee) suit: 8.002%

A New Blog! I know!

I was stuck on the bus the other day without anything to read (I hate that!) when I decided to check in my backpack just in case. Lo and behold! A bunch of mail that was delivered to my parents' house (I haven't changed my address--sooo lazy I am) and my mom gave me the last time she saw me; included in the stack was a still-wrapped Reader's Digest. You know, having a backpack full of random things really does come in handy sometimes.

Anyway, so I'm reading this, and I will say, it's not my favorite read ever, but it's sort of like baked potato chips--gives you something to chew on for a little while, but doesn't really satisfy you... Anyway, so one of the articles I was reading was how they did this pseudo-scientific study to see what cities of the world were the most polite.

At the end of the article, they're patting themselves on the back, saying New York city is the politist of all, according to our scientific study.

Not that you really care, but if someone had happened to be sitting next to me on the bus (okay, not just a random, but say, a friend, say you), I would have pointed out why I have a problem with the result. And so since you're a captive audience, I'm going to tell you now.

First problem, in the sidebar they had a listing of all the cities tested and how they did. You'll notice that, for the most part, it's the English-speaking countries that are in the top half, and the non-English-speaking countries that are in the bottom half. English-speaking people conducted the tests. English-speaking Americans. So aren't you really testing how well they treat people who speak English, how well they treat Americans?

And plus, one of the three tests they conducted at each location was whether the cashier at an establishment thanked you for your purchase. And just "to make it easier," they conducted all of their New York research at Starbucks. Coincidence that New York won, when 1/3 of its results were almost guaranteed to be positive? All that proves to me is that Starbucks has a good employee training program that teaches their employees to say thank you. That's hardly transferrable to the manners of New York as a whole, or even to coffe-shop workers as a whole.

Anyway. That type of thing bothers me. How many big exposé articles do we read all the time and if you look at how the research was conducted, they're really not worth the paper they're written on?....

Lies, damn lies, and statistics....

I need to go to bed. More stories soon, including:
--How I learned it's really not such a good idea to talk to homeless guys in the Loop after midnight,
--The bustling maintenance activities that go on in the Loop after everyone's in bed--my favorite being the ride-on sidewalk cleaners at Daley Plaza,
--How I drank milk I bought today in which the safety seal was broken but it smelled okay and anyway I was hungry for my morning cereal and so I drank it (so far, not sick yet),
--The annoying lady on the bus,
--How I bought 3, count 'em, 3 swimsuits, and I pretty much have to take them all back because 2 don't look so good outside of the suspiciously misleading changing-room mirrors and one just doesn't fit, and
--A step-by-step guide for success in walking alone if you're a female (guys don't know how lucky they are).

Here's your question: How many bacon pieces do you prefer? I like 4.

Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): Return swimsuits
Percent Chance: 90% (They will only accept the return until Friday)

Post-Holiday

I haven't blogged in too long. This story is getting tired, huh...

For the first time in a while, I didn't go see any fireworks this year. Oh, well. I kind of thought I would be sad about it but I'm not really. It's always hot and itchy and you can taste the bug spray in the air... bleh. I hate the taste of bug spray in the air.

I still sneak peeks at this guy Iwanski's blog. He wrote a good one today. Better than I could do.

Sometimes I wish I was an old lady. I see them on the bus, talking to each other, wearing their handkerchiefs and sensible pumps, clutching their purses in their laps while they look calmly upon everyone around them, half-smiling. I think it would be good to be an old lady. They seem content. (Although I guess maybe they really aren't--I don't know.) On rough days I think it would be nice to skip over the crappy middle part of life and go straight to the end where stuff evens out and you're just content. You did your business, made your decisions, for better or worse, and now you just sit back and let the ride take you where it will. You've got grandkids and mischievous 8-year-old neighbor kids and maybe some squirrels to look after, and that's it. At least in my imagination that's what it's like.

Ug. Why did I just eat a plate of food before bed? Never a good idea. But it's just that after I sliced up the potatoes and poured the oil in the skillet, I found out my pilot light was out on the stove so I couldn't cook anything. So I pulled out the little fire-starter trigger thingy but it didn't work--must've run out of fuel since the other day when I used it--and I couldn't find any matches. "I have no fire!" So after some thoughts of microwaving something until it caught fire and using that as a torch to light the stove with (Yes, I did actually briefly consider this. Fortunately for everyone in my building, I decided against it), I went downstairs to ask the neighbor if he had any matches--he works nights so I knew he'd be up. I knocked a few times, but no answer, even though I heard him talking. Oh, well. At 11:50 pm you're allowed to not answer the door. So then I ran across the street to the convenience store which is supposedly open until midnight. The liars! Some guys sitting smoking outside told me they really close at like 11:50 every night. I ran to another convenience store (with my flip-flops snap snapping the whole way, just as a mental picture) but they were closed, too. Shoooot! Luckily, I tried the high-rise apartment by me and the doorman was nice enough to give me a book of matches. Sweet. So I didn't start cooking 'til, I don't know--12:45, once I got the pilot light lit again. (Stupid maintenance! Don't turn off my gas 'cause the pilot light goes off and it requires heavy lifting, screwdrivers, and dirtiness to get it lit again.)

But, plus side, I put a little curry powder on the potato chips this time--very yummy. Curry is going to be my new thing. First up, Chicken Panang Curry. Requires fish sauce, though. Somebody told me once (I can't remember--was it Eamon?) that fish sauce comes from a questionable source. I think that'll have to be one of those "I'll choose to remain in the dark on that one" instances.) And while I'm at the south Asian food, I'm gonna try my hand at samosas. So excited--for once I'll be able to make them not spicy. I hate when something tastes good but I can't eat it because it's too spicy.

Okay, time for the sleeping.

Oh yeah! Your question: How annoying is Cingular for having such bad reception in the city? (Okay, that's more rhetorical.) But any advice for city cell phones would be appreciated.

Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): Buy toilet paper--only one roll left--oh no!
Percent Chance: 89.2%