Changing directions and locations, I travelled to Boston on Monday to visit my good friends Aaron and Chrstina. After a near miss, I made it onto the Megabus Monday morning, settling into my seat and cranking my iPod. Though it certainly was not the warmest day of this spring, the brisk weather was cut by some nice sunshine and the excitement of being in a new city (not too mention the new sweater I just got a deal on at the Gap - 45% off, how could I not?). After snaking through South Station's many levels of stairs, we jetted onto the T, Boston's (wannabe) subway system and descended into Harvard Square, the site of Aaron's even-higher education. Once I dropped off my two old lady bags in his dorm room (dorms! what a flashback!), we headed over to a neighborhood pub for lunch and beer. We decided the pub was the right decision, because one doesn't want to start the day with hard liquor, and we intended to have a long day of drinking ahead of us; furthermore, while Indian food is delicious, Bradley does not get much mileage out of coma-inducing curried fare. Buzzed and full (jalapeño poppers and jambalaya, yum!), we took to Harvard Square to see the shops and sights, acclimating me to the Ivy League environment. Making a pit stop for coffee, we then subbed it over to Boston Commons, Boston's (wannabe) version of Central Park. After judging people and their dogs, we met up with my Christina, another IU alum. Fresh from a meeting with her lawyer, we decided to immediately begin Happy Hour (though they have no such thing in Boston - damn Puritans!). Three flowery martinis later (it was love at St. Germain, my new favorite liqueur), we were feeling quite good and even soaking up a little sun on the patio. While the sun did not last very long, our buzzes did, especially after Christina and I went for a round sangria, peachy and delicious. Defying the wind with our newfound blood alcohol content, we stopped in at H&M and immediately decided to but matching yellow sunglasses. Now, if I were a smart person or a good tourist, I would have remembered my camera and taken a picture and put it at the top of this blog, but alas. Two drunk purchases later, Christina left us to study, and we walked over for a quick sushi dinner. The food was good, but I must say that it did not hold a candle to Japanee. Oh, Japanee, my heart, my Bloomington. Full, but not too full, of rice and raw fish, we took the train back to Harvard and regrouped before the evening's events. One of Aaron's Harvard buds was celebrating the end of his exams, and so we decided to perform our friendly duties (even though he was a stranger to me) and join him in his libations. It was a bit of an Academy rewind, as our group consisted nerdy, smart boys (Harvard remember), a nice changeup to the hooligans I usually hang out with. I survived the witty and political banter, glad I had decided not to smoke marijuana in college, and felt thoroughly refreshed that I, indeed, do have a brain. After the smart bar, we again mounted the train to Boston, taking a chance on Boston's version of Musical Mondays. The videos were there, the drinks were there, but where were all the people. Though some might think it strange or even ludicrous, New Yorkers see no problem partying their asses off on a Monday night. What a great way to start the week! Apparently, Bostonians have real jobs and do not see things as such. After hitting up another equally sleepy bar, we surrendered to IHOP, stuffing our faces with mozzarella sticks and pancakes before bed. In all, I really enjoyed my getaway to Boston and am planning as many such getaways as time and funds will allow. Being in New York (the center of the world if you have forgotten), I am train or bus trip away from a while myriad of East Coast destinations. Where will I show up next?
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Bradley in Boston
The rain and gray have returned to New York as our temperature dial keeps frantically switching from HOT to COLD and back and forth. Deciding to once again defy the weather's attempts to keep me in bed, I journeyed to Washington Heights for another lesson with my wonderful and patient vocal coach, Will. This past week has been another busy one, despite my efforts to as little as possible. After two consecutive closing shifts (i.e. lots of quality time with Locale and Stefano), I braved a Mother's Day Double. Running food and coaxing families, I had a hard time getting going, in part because of my late nights, but also due to the nature of Sunday's holiday. My thoughts were on home, on my family (it was 4 months from that fateful day, just in case anyone has forgotten), and of course my mom. I felt guilty for not being home, not calling (my butt just was not ready to be up before church hour), and bitter towards those that got to be spending the day with their loved ones. As soon as I walked in the restaurant it was packed, and I quickly got to work. Luckily, it was very busy that day, so I had little time to sulk over my own thoughts, needing to instead concentrate on toast preferences and egg options, not to mention all those specials (tomato gazpacho, rigatoni with spinach and tomato, apple nutella waffle, steak omelette, crabcake benedict, chicken marsala, hanger steak, shrimp tempura panini, oh yes I am that good). Deciding to release my anger, because no one wants to work with a Grumpy Gus, I plunged into the world of Mother's Day, charming the moms, complimenting their youth, keeping their cup full, etc, etc. I served Asian mommies, Greek mothers, Dominicans, Filipinos, Colombianas, and even a few good old-fashioned Americans. During dinner I became quick friends with a mom after my own heart a.k.a. a Belvedere (classy=pricey) vodka martini, dry with a lemon twist. We talked food and Paula Deen and movies, her recommendation to me being Babette's Feast (to her family: "I know he'll like it, we have a connection!"). As I served all those moms and their (sometimes obnoxious) families, it boosted my spirits to know that I was helping to give a special Mother's Day to these people, even if I couldn't do the same for my mom that day. Though it's been said before, and it's something that I begrudgingly know is true, you really do help yourself when you help others, that by putting yourself in the position of servitude (no, I'm not talking about that), it gives one a sense of peace of pleasure. I find that one of the most satisfying parts of my job (besides getting paid, because that is why I show up everyday), is when I can show people a good time, when they are responsive to my service (as opposed to when they are rude or dismissive). It was a long, somewhat stressful day, but we made it through, and even had enough energy for a drink after work (a dry, vodka martini with a twist of course).