North America | United States of America (USA) | New England | Massachusetts | Boston – Principle Photography: Day 1 of 6
The day hadn’t ended nor had it started either as the airport shuttle van pulled up in front of my building at 4:15 am. The sky and the air felt like spring. It had begun.
I shared a shuttle with an indie film producer who was on his way to Providence, RI to start principle photography on a pic in Jamestown for 6 weeks. I was tempted to ask for a job but my pride and exhaustion held me back.
The LAX report: total breeze. Don’t let the rumors scare you. They want you to think it will take hours to get through but really, as long as you are not checking in luggage (as I was carry on only) you’re golden. There is a single line where they herd you through security sizing every individual up. And they were not nice about it. Sure, I wasn’t expecting to be licked by kittens but a smile would’ve been nice at 5:00 am. Am I wrong?
Slept through the flight. Through the bad airline food and peanut/drink run. Through screaming babies, turbulance or any other abboration that planes hold for us. Even better was that upon take off the two seats next to me were free, so my plan was to stretch out and enjoy my space.
But a friendly flight attendant (damn her) redirected a different passenger to the spot and SHE decided to stretch out and take up my space. Did I subconsciously elbow her in the head? I cannot tell you for I was scrunched up in the corner like a sardine, eyes closed, out like a light until Philly.
I am a frequent US Air patron and know the Philly airport well. The Sbarro Pizza joint in the food court has seen many of my hard earned dollars spent on overpriced soggy slices. And I marvel at the shopping mall they have inbetween terminals A and B. That’s what I need. One hour layover. Must buy GAP cargo pants.
The second leg of my flight was a lovely 45 minute bus ride in the sky. I continued to sleep. I hope I didn’t snore.
I love the landing into Logan. Flying low over the Boston Harbor, sun shining just so on the calm surface that it reflects like Grandma’s skin, gliding on to the runway smooth as, well, a jet liner. It is as if you’re going to dive right into the water but as the last moment: SAVED! I always feel the need to applaud when landing at Logan.
My brother picked me up and we bolted through traffic into the sparkling new Ted William’s Tunnel, one of the few completed sections of the monumental Big Dig which has torn up the city’s streets for the last few years.
What’s this I hear about the great Ted Williams having been cryogenically frozen in order to sell his DNA? Nut jobs.
Impressions of Boston: Dunkin Donuts everywhere! Pizza joints! Boston Pubs! Tourists actually waiting at intersections for the ‘walk’ sign to flash. Silly. Quincy Market and Fanuel Hall flooded with out of towners. Maybe the Freedom Trail will have to wait until mid week. Tourists suck.
Thoughts when passing by Government Center: I love this city. When cruising past Charles Street which leads to Back Bay: I’ll visit you later. Instead we book it down Memorial Drive along the Charles River to Waltham for dinner decisions.
The Charles is dotted with kayaks and canoes.
Its paths are full of joggers and cyclists, even in this slightly muggy 80 degree heat. Boston across the river is welcoming. More ideas of things to do…
Border Cafe in Harvard Square for dinner and margaritas! Imagine that, coming all the way from Los Angeles for some of the best mexican food in the country. LA Mex is all ‘Californianized’ with fresh this and healthy that. Come on now, quesadillas with goat cheese? Please. Just give me ultra hot salsa (not pico de gallo) and homemade tortilla chips and a salted margarita and I am in heaven. As a vegi I chowed on some damn good vegi jambolaya, visiting the Southwest for flavor instead of South of the Border.
Oh, for anyone who is interested: The Globe Bookstore on Church St. in Harvard Square – just across from the Border – is the best travel bookstore in Boston. Phenomenal stock of guides of all shapes and sorts. Great way to spend a 20 minute wait for a table. I’m intrigued about Sumatra now and have been re-jazzed about trekking in Nepal.
There was a beautiful breeze flowing through the populated square and smells like New England. I feel home. Familiar. Boston has so much class whereas LA has formica. I don’t think LA will ever be home.
The buskers in the square catch my attention. One was a Beatles cover band set up at the T stop where the punks usually hang out, next to the Au Bon Pain where chess is played religiously (as seen in the feature film ‘Good Will Hunting’). The other an accordian player on Brattle St. next to the wonderful indie/foreign film house that rivals LA’s New Beverly and Nuart. I wish I had more time for a Dunkin Donuts coffee and conversation at an outdoor cafe.
But exhaustion kicked in and I felt my lids grow heavy even with Will Smith’s wise ass ‘Agent J’ of Men In Black trying to entertain us on the TV.
Fell asleep to the sounds of a silent city. It’s good to be back.