Boston

Trudging the half mile walk from Logan’s  baggage claim area in Terminal B across a parking garage and a skywalk at 10:00 PM, I finally arrived at the Hilton and met up with Adrienne, who had been here all day, having flown in from Seattle on a red-eye. My flights had been rerouted twice due to “operational” delays, first at Sacramento airport and then “traffic control issues” at San Francisco airport. Fun times.

Our journey has begun!  We chatted and caught up on news from home for about an hour or so while I settled in, and then lights out and time for sleep. We had an early call in the morning. Pick up rental car back at Logan, drive out to see my friend Jack in Truro, a town on Cape Cod, almost to Provincetown at the tip of the Cape. Then back to Boston in late afternoon to check in to new hotel in the Seaport District and meet my other friends, Carol and Vinny, for dinner.

Having GPS on your cell phone can be a God-send, but it can also cause you a lot of problems. Depends on who you ask, where you are, and how many places exist with the same name. Once settled in the car and successfully passing an in-depth inspection by the rental car security man to allow us out of the garage, we plugged Jack’s address into my phone using Google Maps and we were off. Well. If sitting in stalled traffic to get through the Williams tunnel and onto the highway can be called “off”.  The GPS gleefully announced that our trip time to Truro would be two hours and twenty minutes. We called Jack and said we were on our way. It took a little time to get past the morning bottleneck but then the highway magically opened up and zoom! Full speed ahead.

We had a lot of rain on the way but the drive was essentially pleasant. We detoured in Braintree for coffee, tea and a egg muffin.  I was rambling along and nearly ran a red light (only going about 20 mph) which caused me to break hard and then made Adrienne’s iced tea fall over and spill. She was not terribly amused. Oopsie. Thank God it was a quadruple sized plastic cup. She still had plenty and only a little of her shoe and the floor got wet. Still. I haven’t nearly run a red light in a strange town since my Berkeley days. Many moons ago.

In due time the Welcome to Truro sign appeared and we found Jack’s house at the end of a small road  out by the sandy dunes of the Bay. What a beautiful area! And there was Jack! Not sure how long he’d been standing by the window waiting. Knowing him, I’d guess maybe at least a half hour.