Today is the day that I realized that I don’t like traveling. I like having traveled, but (in grammatical terms) a perfect is not a progressive—which is to say that in order to have done something you unfortunately have to do it.
I woke up today around 5:30 to get ready for a 7:20 flight. The plan: fly from Columbus, OH to Washington, DC, and from there to Boston. Not fifteen minutes later, I receive three messages from the airline saying that the Columbus to DC leg of the flight has been delayed for almost three hours.
Three hours?
This means my planned flight from DC to Boston will have left half an hour before I land. Clearly, this is a problem. I look out the window. It’s clear. It’s still. Neither a drop of rain nor a breath of wind.
Whatever. Let’s go to the airport.
Apparently, that plane’s grounded for maintenance. I bring this up at the counter, everyone’s really apologetic blah blah blah, US Air switches me over to Continental and I’m off instead to Newark in a small three-seat per row plan.
Flying into Newark is actually pretty cool, because you get a great view of New York on the descent. Empire State Building, Chrysler Building, Statue of Liberty—all plainly visible from the left side of the airplane. I guess the folks on the right got to see New Jersey, which is… you know… fun.
I almost missed the flight to Boston. I had a 40 minute layover and by the time I get from Terminal A to Terminal C, the flight’s already boarded, while I’m sitting there going “Hurr durr, this gate sure is deserted,” until the final boarding call sounds.
Hurr durr
Close call.
From Newark it’s a 42 minute flight to Boston, but it seems like we spent more time taxiing than flying. I kid you not, at one point a piece of trash blowing in the wind was beating us down the runway.
But we finally got to Boston! On the way down, it occurs to me that this is where I’ll be living for the next two years. Big cities always strike some chord in me, especially after having been away from them for a while. I chalk this up to 4 years in Chicago.
After landing, I receive another message. The flight I was originally set to be on got delayed yet another two-and-a-half hours before finally getting canceled. Thank goodness for wussing out—I could have persevered with the waiting and still been in Ohio.
Logan Airport has free Wi-Fi. I like it here already.
A few observations from my travels around the city:
• While I normally find other people’s children (aged 4-8 or so) to be incredibly annoying, apparently they’re much more tolerable when they’re not speaking English. There was a little French girl chattering away on the bus out of the airport who was apparently (according to the woman seated next to me) recounting the story of 9/11 to her mother. Adorable.
• People in Boston are either really nice or assholes (Massholes?). There appears to be no in-between setting. I was fortunately not the target of any Masshole rage, but did witness some being perpetrated against others, while everyone I asked for directions was really solicitous about it (and also gave good directions). A random guy on the Red Line showed me some place I could go sailing for cheap and, when I mentioned I’d be studying Comp. Ling., suggested I go talk to Noam Chomsky at MIT and interview him for a master’s thesis.
• MBTA buses and CTA (Chicago) buses are almost identical. Almost forgot I wasn’t in Chicago a few times.
• Commuter rail only runs every hour and a half. Gonna need a bike.
So all in all, nothing too terrible. But still, until we prefect jump or transporter technology, traveling’s a bit like doing the dishes—I like being in the state that results from having done the dishes. Unfortunately, that means I still have to do them.
