We set off early for Boston, the first of two stops we’d make on our way home. After checking into our hotel, the Westin across from the Boston Public Library (Hotwire.com! I’m telling you!), we took off walking, stopping into an Irish pub for lunch. We split an order of Fish and Chips and a big steaming bowl of macaroni and cheese with Tasso ham. The macaroni was delightful, creamy and really quite sophisticated for being macaroni and cheese, and the fish and chips were perfectly crispy and mild.
Fueled up and ready to go, we hit the streets and headed for the Freedom Trail, a self-guided walking tour to a bundle of historic monuments and sights like:
The Granary Burial Ground, where Paul Revere’s remains reside:
The Old North Church, of one-if-by-land fame:
And a bunch of other places. In between historic sites, we ducked into Italian groceries to peer at homemade pasta and dozens of cheeses. We stopped at a huge Border’s just for the heck of it and passed a large outdoor market.
By evening, I was beat. All the walking plus a fitful sleep the night before and driving through Queens had me pretty pooped. We wandered around Back Bay and then decided to call it a day and head back to the hotel.
On the way back, though, we saw a girl with curly hair listening to an iPod, and I took off my sunglasses and turned to Jesse and said, “That is not Dana Sigmund.” And he said, “Oh yes it is.” I couldn’t believe it! Dana and I knew each other in college. She was in Sigma Tau and was VP the year I was president. She took over the club after I graduated. She’s remarkably similar to Miriam—she’s ridiculously cute and friendly and intelligent, and she’s got this fabulous curly hair that never, never looks bad.
After chatting for a few minutes in absolute shock, and in my shock completely forgetting to get a picture (Erin! For crying out loud! Get a picture!), we parted ways, Dana off to grocery shop, and Jesse and I off to find something cheap to eat (we were feeling the expenses of the trip, psychologically, though we were prepared financially for the cost).
In the end, we were completely lame and got fast food. I know. It wasn’t even good fast food. Burger King for him and Wendy’s for me (they were next to one another). We got it to go and walked our bags of fast food back to our fancy hotel, because apparently that’s how we roll, and then we ate at the desk in our room and then watched a movie we’d already seen and then went to bed. Goodnight, Boston.