On my last day in Boston, it rained like the whole state of Massachusetts was sad to see me go. There were great bolts of lightening, overflowing drains, and mini flash floods. It didn’t stop until I left. Now, I know weather patterns are in no way influenced by a human being coming or going from a specific geographical location, but just let me have this one.
The day started where any good day should: in a coffee shop being blasted with air conditioning. Mostly I was waiting to join a new friend for a macchiato (which is the grownup drink I order in an attempt to look like I know a thing or two about coffee). When noon rolled around, I crossed the street into a much hipper cafe with no A/C and charge-you-by-the-hour Wi-Fi.
Concrete evidence that I am a scintillating conversationalist. Somehow.
My new friend was already there. I’ll admit that I was surprised he showed up at all, because the first thing drunk-Bailey asked him just a few nights before at Ben’s show was, “What’s it like being an asshole all the time?” I know, I’m charming.
From there we talked about all the typical stuff: books, music, mutual friends. But this is my Summer of Yes, and I am so over small-talk. So, we got down to brass tacks pretty quick. What do you think your role in your family is? How does that affect you on a day-to-day basis? Does happiness exist? What’s your biggest character flaw? How do you interpret tragedy? Y’know, normal stuff.
A few minutes to two, my friend had to haul ass to work. Ultimately he was late, but I think it was time well spent. When Harriet came to collect me like a child from daycare, I was flying high on four shots of espresso. Needless to say, Mexican food was needed to soak up all the extra caffeine before I had a cardiac event.
After that, I realized that I still hadn’t picked up any souvenirs for my family members, so we Lyfted down to Harvard (as you do) to wander around their school’s bookshop like a couple of REAL tourists. I have to admit, I’m not impressed by the bougie levels Harvard has got cooking, but whatever. I paid my pound of flesh for a cup, shirt, and little animals, and then me and H got the hell out of there.
Also featuring: Wheat Thins
On my last night in town, Harriet hosted a tiny get-together full of beer, pizza, and her traditional fruit spread. I cranked up the French jazz, danced around her house, and wished that I didn’t have to ever leave. I wanted to exist in that moment for the rest of my life. The moments that came after that, though, were fun. I met another one of Harriet’s compatriots, Drew, who is what can only be described as a “live one.” Honestly, I’ve never met someone with so much energy, especially considering the fact that his pressure cooker had recently exploded and he smelled of curry.
We drank and laughed late into the evening. A little too late, actually. As midnight neared, I came to terms with the fact that I would only get a few hours of sleep. Totally worth it. To say that I am grateful for this trip would be an understatement. In less than a week, I realized a few remarkable things about myself: I am funny. I am likable. I am a lot braver than I ever gave myself credit for. I am an adult with a bright future ahead of me. Damn.
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