North America | United States of America (USA) | New England | Massachusetts | Boston – Wrap: Day 6 of 6
…so it has taken me a week to get everything settled and under control here in crazy LA central. The task of returning to normal life after a week back home was a daunting yet not impossible one.
Sure, it wasn’t like I spent months trekking in India or even a few weeks backpacking the Eurail circuit. But there is still a culture shock and a hell of a lot of jet lag to get used to. The return to the west coast kept me dazed for a few.
A few humorous remarks were made about my slipped accent, Rs dropped here and there, fodder for jokes. That’s fine, guys, I’ll get you next time.
But I must admit a bit of post travel depression kept me under the weather, as well as the desire to do nothing but sleep. Two days full of naps and I was ready to jump back into the life of leisure…job searching and paying bills with money I don’t have. It took months after my last Europe trip to get back into the groove. Surely it won’t take as long for a week back home?
Back to the story…I got to use the wonderful Mass Bay transportation system (www.mbta.com) to get to the airport because my brother had to work and my flight was mid afternoon. So I walked one mile in sweat pouring heat to the Waltham commuter rail station and two stops later ($2.75) I disembarked at Porter Sq. to transfer to the Red Line ($1.00). Then to Park St. for the Blue Line. Then the Blue Line shuttle from the Airport stop to Logan itself. 45 minutes, including walking time, and I was settled nicely in my faux leather seat at the US Air terminal. All for under 4 bucks!
A lovely short flight to Philly where I marched down to terminal A. Terminal A must be the main international terminal. Most of the languages I heard around me were not native. A flight full of well dressed Italians arrived and all around I heard conversations on others’ final desinations (one kid’s first trip to England, another off to Munich, that family is going to Australia after LA. Sigh.)
Note to self…next time an announcement comes over the PA System regarding volunteers to bump to the next flight for a free RT airline ticket good for a year anywhere in the continental US, get your arse up sooner! Don’t exhaust yourself thinking about the pre-paid shuttle van whose number you may or may not find in order to reschedule it later. Do not weigh the pros and cons of arriving in the early AM in Los Angeles. Do not watch the counter remain empty with no volunteers then slowly pick up your stuff, wander up to the counter only to find ten people lined up in front of you suddenly, all volunteering to hang out in Philly for an extra two hours.
I am a bad bad budget traveller.
But in the end I got to sit next to a nice man who was on his way to Perth. Talk about a long flight! His entire body shook when he laughed, like every bit of him was involved in the joy of reading Bill Bryson’s funny as all “In A Sunburned Country”. We gave Bryson a shout out and resumed our own schedules of sleeping versus reading.
I had ordered the crazy Asian vegetarian meal (totally tasty and did not sit in my stomache like a rock), watched the inflight movie ‘The Rookie’ (cheesey baseball flic) with my own headphones and contimplated stealing the little bottles of Jim Beam that peeked out behind the frazzled flight attendent’s back.
Again, I am a bad bad budget traveller. Or just a wimp.
So I arrived home without a hitch, the sole passenger in my shared shuttle. As a result of my good fortune I arrived home 45 mins. after I disembarked…to a hot and stuffy apartment, discouraged to see two newspapers sitting out front from the previous weekend but not surprised. (Big sign outside, flashing neon lights: Delara is not home, please steal everything!) And without a free airline ticket anywhere in the lower 48. Hmmm.
Soon the exhaustion left my ex-traveled body. I was finally able to return to my normal schedule of eating and drinking and socializing, wishing that while on the terrace at The Fox And Hounds Pub with friends the other night I was actually standing inside the Common Ground, smoking cigarettes and jumping up and down wiping sweat off my forehead and onto Greg’s shirt. Ah, good times.
Travelling home every once in a while…I highly recommend it. Signing out, please tip your waitress…