While we were having dinner at the Bertucci’s across the parking lot, I remembered something I meant to write about our adventures in the airport. I was calling hotels from the courtesy phone in the airport. I don’t think I’ve ever used one of those before, so I was actually a little psyched. It made me feel like a grown-up. I guess I should start gauging my feeling like a grown up on how infrequently I note something that I’ve never done before. Nonetheless, the moment was noted.
I called the Comfort Inn first, and then checked it against the Hampton Inn. I asked the guy at the Hampton Inn how much a room was. He said “where are you?” If you’re also a grown-up, you also may have come to learn this: when you ask someone how much something is, and the answer is another question, you should probably not end transaction with a ‘yes’.
Still, I answered “at the airport”.
“Are you a distressed passenger?”
Oh, my goodness. I am a distressed passenger! “You know, I hadn’t called myself that until now, but yes, I am a distressed passenger.”
He offered me the same price as the Comfort Inn, so we went with them, since we had fond memories of putting people up at the Comfort Inn in Danvers for our wedding.
It actually worked out reasonably well: they’re literally next door to the airport, and they have a special park and ride deal, where we pay a little extra to leave our car in their lot and use the shuttle. Basically, if you subtract what we would have had to pay at the airport parking garage, we are only paying $30 for the hotel.
I have been Googling every phrase I can think of, but I still can’t find anyone who’s put a tofurkey in a deep frier and lived to blog about it. We’re not planning this. I was just curious. Honest.
Barf. We’re batting 0 for our last 2 attempts at getting on a plane. We left Boston at 2:30pm for a 6pm flight, and didn’t pull into the Providence airport until 5:40. Needless to say, we missed the flight. It usually takes an hour and a half, and we did allow ourselves some extra time for heavy traffic.
Sooooo, it being the heaviest travel day of the year, the next flight was basically not until 6:05am. After 3 hours in the car (part of which was spent on the phone to US Airways to see if they had any advice about what we’d do if we missed our flight) and a frantic 20 minutes trying to get onto a plane we basically knew we couldn’t get on, it was almost a relief to just be able to relax for 12 hours.
So here we are, at the Comfort Inn, watching BBC America. It’s some show with Judi Dench. We had basically no intention of driving back to Boston, and then driving back at 3am.
The first pleasant surprise of the misadventure was that we ran into some friends in the Providence airport, who we’ve been meaning to track down and invite to our holiday party, en route to their Thanksgiving destination. The second was that we have free wireless in the hotel courtesy of my company, which has recently joined this iPass thing which is some sort of multiple-sign-on to a variety of wireless networks. So I get to blog about not making the flight. Yee ha!
Terri and I are currently sitting at Tosci’s in Central Squaree after walking from home to Davis Square (all 3 coffee shops (Someday, Diesel, Carberry’s) were full) then to Porter Square (Simon’s Cafe was full), then to Harvard Square (we didn’t even try).
We have plans afoot. Big plans, which may involve you!
Everything smells like November. That lovely thing I’m drinking is Toscanini’s amazing Hot Vanilla. It’s super super rich. I limit myself to two a year. One in November, and one in February.
For Terri’s birthday, we went to dinner at Upstairs on the Square; it was excellent. I haven’t been there since it stopped being Upstairs at the Pudding. Guess what kind of soup she had? That’s right. Turnip. I had something that was Italian for “Chicken under a brick”, which, as it sounds, was baked under a chunk of Cambridge’s favorite construction material.
This is total crap. How does anybody live in Alaska?
Terri is now writing in her new blog, The Shy Turnip.
Helmecki came up from Connecticut Friday night, and he, Terri, and I went to the big Red Sox victory parade yesterday morning. Photo highlights are here. There were 17 duck boats full of players, coaches, former players, management, front-office employees, some kids from the Red Sox Foundation, and “Red Sox Partners”, which I assume are people who paid to be in the parade.
It was fun. We stood at the corner of Charles and Boylston, and were pretty close to the action. The boats went by pretty fast, though; there were lots of folks we didn’t manage to see because it happened so suddenly. After they went by, we walked up Charles St., through Beacon Hill, and on to the Longfellow Bridge. We hung out there until the boats went into the river, and we watched them go up one side from there. There were an amazing number of people along the Esplanade watching them go by. We went down to the Cambridge side, in the park between the Cambridge Parkway and the river, and caught them making the final leg on the North side of the river.
Looks like the Globe Sunday Magazine again didn’t do the funky sock feature that Terri was supposed to be in…