We’re Going to Hahvahd, Dahling…
First, a word on the driving:
Driving from my town in northern New Jersey to my first stop – Providence, Rhode Island – should have taken approximately three hours and fifteen minutes (which is roughly how long it takes to get from my house in Oregon to Seattle, Washington, if anyone wants a comparison). Everything was going just fine until I hit New Haven. And then: nothing. Literally. At one point, I considered abandoning my car on the side of I-95 and walking to Providence because I thought it would go faster. I’m not entirely sure what convinces people who are driving on a stick-straight two lane freeway that they need to break, but they don’t. At all. My main thought for the hour it took to get from New Haven to the Rhode Island border was:
What the HELL do you people keep breaking for?
Luckily, I am an outsider and thus driving is as much part of the trip as the destination. I mean, I got excited when I saw the sign for Kerri’s hometown and I even took a picture of the sign for Westport (hometown of dLife). Where did you get the idea I was normal?
Arrived at Providence just after 12:00, and I spent the afternoon wandering around the city. Walked through downtown and up past Rhode Island School of Design. Decided to explore a little bit farther before turning around, but lo and behold, I ran into Brown University!
Mel arrived in the mid-afternoon and we decided to blow the proverbial popstand and scooted down to Newport, which I didn’t spend nearly enough time in and have already decided is my destination for my next long weekend out of Dodge.
The next day I headed up to Boston, where I stayed in a hostel near Newbury Street. First I got a bit lost (ha, betcha saw that one coming), so I accidentally drove through Bunker Hill and used Mass General to turn around. I spent the afternoon meandering about – walked down Newbury (popping into Newbury Comics and buying an adorable T-shirt from Johnny Cupcake, which then led complete strangers to laugh at me when they saw the name on the box), through the Boston Commons, down and around Faneuil Hall and Quincy Market (the world’s most historic looking tourist trap, if I do say so myself) before crossing the freeway to the North End to see the Old North Church.
Basically, I walked Boston.
On Monday, I added yet another famous O.C. face to my list. Mel and I had the distinguished privilege and honor to have lunch with Bernard (which is pronounced ber-NERD, not bern-ARRRD – he’s Irish, dontcha know). Bernerd picked us up on Newbury Street and drove across the Charles River into Cambridge. After lunch, we made a stop at my sole reason for going to Boston: Peet’s Coffee and Tea – a West Coast coffee chain that can only be found on the East Coast in the Boston area.
Okay, so it wasn’t my sole reason, but it’s on the top five list.
We took an unofficial tour of Harvard, wandering past the library and the dorms and the statue of John Harvard. I touched the lucky shoe. I don’t know what makes it lucky, but apparently people like to rub it because it was complete worn down from people touching his foot (you can see in the picture it’s a totally different color!).
Parking for 25.5 hours: $45.00.
One night stay in Boston at a hostel: $44.99.
Getting your picture taken with John Harvard and two of your favorite imaginary internet weirdo friends: Priceless
And I’m sure you’re wondering, Allison, how was pumping your own gas for the first time?
I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. Because I still didn’t do it! It pays to have friends who pump your gas for you.
Twenty-two years and one month, baby. I’m thinking about starting a pool to see when I’ll crack and have to pump my own gas.