The Walking City

Apparently Boston is called “The Walking City.”  I just learned this.  I should have Googled before I flew there because I totally did not bring the necessary footwear to participate in this weekend’s activities.  Actually I probably should have bought those weird get in shape by walking around sneakers that everyone makes now because I’m pretty sure my butt would look awesome.  But – I didn’t know.  And in my first attempt ever to pack light – I only brought four – yes four – pairs of shoes for my weekend.  Two of which, thankfully were flats.  Actually I probably did bring the appropriate footwear we just decided to walk further than we should have making even the flat shoes – since neither pair were sneakers – less than ideal.

Sister and I got up Saturday morning to head to my cousin’s surprise Bridal Shower.  She was determined to not move her car from where she had finally parked it the night before and Google maps on the BB said it was a twenty-three minute walk.  So we decided to go for it.  Me in heels.  Her in heels.  Me with flats in my giant purse slash school bag.  Her carrying a giant red bag of gifts that we obviously forgot to buy a card for – for the second time in so many showers.  But she did stick some ribbons on that were slightly damaged because my niece had spent some time with them in her mouth.  And we may or may not have dropped the whole thing trying to ‘wrap’ it on the street.  But since we bought cookie sheets and a giant cupcake cake pan – no harm, no foul.  (Sorry Meghan.)

Well after about two blocks uphill I realized my shoes had to go – or we would never make it.  We also realized that Google maps had lied to us and this twenty-three minute walk was a bit of a miscalculation.  But – we couldn’t go back now.  We walked about forty-five minutes, made it to the restaurant sweating and exhausted about ten minutes before my cousin got there.  One Blood Mary, a slice of cake and a couple hours later – we were offered a ride back to where we were staying.  Gratefully we accepted.

Well the next event started sooner than we expected so we just had time to change our outfits and start walking again.  This time – confident of the BB’s GPS calculation of one mile.  Well after a slight detour to find coffee we arrived at our destination.  Upon arrival – and some mild jealousy of the caffeine we were consuming we left again to retrace our steps and acquire one more cup of coffee. 

Later that evening after all the festivities were over – it was time for Sister and I to walk that one mile back to where we were sleeping.  This time both of us were still in heels.  And it may or may not have been approaching 2am.  We got within two blocks of the house and Sister threw in the towel, hailed a cab which drove us the one and a half blocks to the door.  A wise $3 dollar investment all things considered.  And no, we did not remember to look up and find the super moon during our trip home. 

The next day before my flight out I had to avoid the parade to find a cab.  Which apparently the parade is some kind of big deal in South Boston.  And I definitely don’t get it – I mean why would I want to stand in the freezing coldness to watch some grown men drive around in lawn mowers they’ve converted into tiny Mack trucks? And I don’t like loud noises (especially post bachelorette party – more on that later), so the sirens and the horns were just miserable.  And then on top of all that people are throwing candy at me.  I don’t want candy that got thrown on the ground.  And I don’t want candy to hit me in the face either. Anyway.  Parades are dumb.  That’s all I know. 

  And in an effort to leave the city I had to walk some more -carrying my bag - to find a cab.  When I finally found one – he told me he can’t go to Logan airport and made me get out.  Awesome.

The next cab driver was a kinder – more chatty man.  Which I can assure you I was in no condition to chat.  But he insisted on telling me that he drives Derek Jeter and other celebrities around all week long and never once has requested a “signature.” Ok.  And then he almost killed us and he must have seen my face because he then proceeded to attempt to reassure me that he was a good driver and that him driving faster saves me money because of the meter.  Ok.  But saving money means nothing if you drive me into a truck or a lamp post or the ocean. 

While in the cab the radio told me that Boston was called “The Walking City.”  And I’m just telling you - so you can remember that - the next time you think it’s a good idea to carry on a bag for the first time in your life and not pack enough shoe options.  Which, the carrying on thing totally didn’t work out for me because I rode one of those smaller US Airways planes and they ‘gate check’ your bag anyway and I had to wait just as long for it when I got there. Anyway - super fun weekend in Boston.  And many congrats to the beautiful Bride-to-Be.