Pre-blog warning: I didn’t bring a journal to Boston and this is acting as my journal. I don’t expect anyone will want to read this huge beast, but the reason it’s here is so I can remember the fun I had on this trip when I’m 40, single, and surrounded by cats.

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One week and two days ago, I was wandering around the Skyway without any shoes on. Twenty-five hours of work in two days and the heels I wore to try to look nice for our client appreciation party had gotten the best of me. If I didn’t know I was departing for Boston the next day, I would have probably had a nervous breakdown.

Before bed on Thursday night, Angie and I set our alarms for 4am. Then we lay awake and kept talking…and talking…and talking, which is what we do when we haven’t seen each other for more than a day. All said and done, we probably got five hours of sleep, if that. We woke up bright (but it wasn’t bright because the effin’ sun wasn’t even up yet. Who booked this ridiculous flight?!) and early the next morning to prepare for our first grown-up travels. That means no-one-to-keep-an-eye-on-us travels. And oh, the adult activities we planned to take part in, not the least of which drinking until I hurt myself badly enough to utilize the Mass General Hospital that we later learned was less than a block from our hotel. (When Angie told my dad we were right next to a hospital, he told her that made him feel “a little better.”) But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Darren hauled our sleep-deprived asses to the airport, where I cheated to get my boarding pass quickly and we waited in life for just about half our lives to get Angie’s. We boarded the plane, amazed that we hadn’t screwed anything up yet, and I was dismayed to find a hundred-sixty-year-old woman in MY window seat. For a girl that has only flown for one trip before, window seats are a big deal. However, we weren’t in Boston yet so my Minnesota Nice hadn’t been checked at the door, and I let the old biddy stay there. I figure she’s closer to her time with God than I am and maybe this way she’ll put in a good word.

We landed in Boston and successfully navigated ourselves to the taxi kiosk, where our cab caller asked us is we were in town on business or “pleashah” and told us to check out Boston’s beautiful “pahks” and “gahdens.” Angie swooned and, I imagine, has not stopped thinking about that fine Bostonian giving her more pleashah ever since.

Upon arriving to the hotel, we were pleased to find that my shitty administrative assistant job does have some real perks and $59 wasn’t a bad rate at all for where we were staying. The room was clean, quiet and comfortable and somehow much classier than the places we used to stay with Dad on past vacations. Also, we learned later, the location was killer. If something wasn’t within walking distance (we’re talking about you, Bunker Hill), it wasn’t worth our time. The good news was EVERYTHING (Bunker Hill, Harvard and M.I.T. excluded) was within walking distance.

Once we spent a minute spazzing in our hotel room (“We’re in BOSTON!”), we set out to see what was around. We went without a map and without a clue and I learned one of my favorite things about that city: history is discreetly (okay, not so discreetly) mixed in with everyday life. We made it to the Boston Commons/Public Gardens area (which I love you for, Boston) and there was the State House, built in seventeen hundred something. As a side note, does this man have an erection? I was uncertain until I saw him a few minutes later and it seemed to have lost its...oomph. Anyway, after the State House, we found the Freedom Trail! Then we lost it multiple times and decided to quit it because we’re just that stupid. We ate at a pub for lunch and were cursed with a server from Michigan who lacked the Boston accent and who tried to get us to go to his play that evening.

Between lunch and our afternoon jaunt, we took a two-hour nap, which ended when, somehow, three phones were ringing at once. On our afternoon jaunt, we realized that Boston is a pretty crazy place at 5:00pm on a Friday afternoon. Who knew? We did find some shopping though, don’t ask me where, and were jostled this way and that as we made our way around. We stumbled upon the Old State Meeting House, which I took several pictures of the back of, convinced it was the front. We couldn’t find Faneuil Hall, however, and Angie kept saying, “We’ve got to be close.” Had we looked at a map, we would have realized we were a block away. Maps are for losers.

For dinner we made our first trip to CHEERS, where I paid $12 for a bowl of stew. Whatever, it was worth it for the waiter, whose accent made us melt, and who Angie wanted to hit on because, hello, she had two beers and she was drunk. Somehow, two beers makes me more rational and I herded her out of the Oak Room and into the gift shop before anything could develop.

Angie bought a few post cards and sat in the park and giggled and wrote inappropriate things to people, then we hoofed it back to the hotel. That night we decided to check out the Boston bah scene and did so at the grill and tavern across the street from the hotel. Unfortunately, all the woman in that city are total babes (it must have been those 250,000 college students that were ruining our mojo), and we were unable to find Angie a husband OR get free drinks. Also, they had nothing on tap but about 48 different dark, dark beers, three of which I had heard of. That was the point of the trip that we missed Minnesota the most and bar time in Boston was wrecked for us for the rest of the trip.

The next day, Angie turned 25. It was before 7am that I woke (which developed into a pattern over the next couple of days) and we got ourselves prepped to make the most of our Go Boston cards. I was disappointed that Angie didn’t wear her Birthday Girl ribbon, but I’m sure she just forgot it. Our first stop was the transit building to get our trolley boarding passes, then we enjoyed a two-plus hour tour of all of Boston’s hottest spots. Our tour guide had a thing for Boston’s past four mayors, the Red Sox pitching staff, and the millennial waters, or whatever the hell they’re called.

Next came lunch, where a coaster tried to convince us that Miller Lite is fruity, and a trip back to Cheers to use our discount in the gift shop. After a trip back to the hotel to drop off our goodies, we decided to take another whirl at the Freedom Trail. We followed it half-heartedly, finding such treasures as Faneuil Hall (including yummy street performers), the oldest bar in the United States, Paul Revere’s House, the Old North Church, the very aggressive farmer’s market, Little Italy during the U.S./Italy World Cup match (madness, people, madness), and the Old State Meeting House (including the front). Being in Faneuil Hall with just a few other people was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. We had a nice Forest Service gal (who resembled Kelly so much it freaked me out, though Kelly would never, ever wear that horrible outfit) who taught us a little bit about the hall. It’s probably a good thing that she didn’t talk long, because I would have sat there and listened to her all freaking day. After a nice, long nap, we had Cold Stone for dinner. I’m sure Angie couldn’t have asked for a better birthday dinner. One our way back to the hotel, some foreign man yelled, “God bless you American girls!” which was fun.

Our slumber was interrupted at 11:30 by a fire alarm. I was going to stay in bed, but Angie insisted we evacuate after that Asian woman was running through the hall yelling, “THERE’S A FIRE!” We got the all-clear as we stepped foot outside the building, then it took us way too long to find our way back in. I was certain the Boston firefighters were coming to give Angie a really special birthday present. Her sleep-talk led me to believe I was right. I wasn’t.

Sunday morning we got another early start and we walked to the Museum of Science to embark on a Duck Tour. We arrived there before the museum opened, but we were the last to board our “duck.” The tour was fabulous. Our guide was full of fun facts and she let small children pilot the duck for the water portions of the tour. Also, we quacked at some police officers. After the tour, we went into the Science Museum just long enough to say we took advantage of the free admission. It paled in comparison to Duck Tour, which was one of my favorite parts of the trip, so we only stayed about 15 minutes. We know how to give something a fair chance.

Next, we went to tour the Otis House from the Federalist era. It was only about a block from the hotel and free with our Go cards, so of course we had to check it out. Angie and I were the only two on the tour and we were pleasantly surprised. The house has been beautifully restored to match what it looked like hundreds of years ago. Those Federalists sure liked their symmetry and fake doors. Our tour guide there was from Wisconsin, but we were still nice to her.

After another short reprieve to the hotel room (do you see now why the location was so important?), we took a very hot walk to the waterfront to have some seafood at Legal Seafood. It was delicious and I ate way too much, which left me uncomfortably full AND sweating bullets for the rest of the day. Since we were at the waterfront, we decided to take the harbor cruise to the USS Constitution and check out Old Ironsides. We decided to sit on the top deck and it was at this time that Angie developed a bad case of leprosy. I was spared because I sold my soul to the devil.

Old Ironsides was pretty neat, but it was too bloody hot (and I was too bloody full) to really enjoy it. But we came and we saw, though we didn’t fully experience the USS Constitution. That’s okay though because I don’t understand ship talk. I just like it when they come into the hahbah.

We hopped the trolley back to the other side of the Chahles Riva and jumped off at the Old State House so we could actually tour the place. I insisted upon it, but even if Angie didn’t want to go, I’m sure it was completely worth it to her when the guy working there thought she wasn’t over 18. The girl working with him was from Iowa. Midwestern theme, no?

After another exhausting day of touring, we needed (surprise!) a nap. With two hours of rest, we put on our best running shoes, filled our purses with pepper spray, and left the hotel as daylight was waning. We checked out the Holocaust Memorial on the way to the OTHER Cheers, which we had been just feet from the day before without realizing it. According to our Go Boston books, this Cheers was supposed to be a replica of the TV set. Au contraire. It was fun though and I probably could have stayed there all night drinking Coors Light and watching the Red Sox play the Braves on the big, big screen.

Our flight wasn’t scheduled to leave until about 1:30 Monday afternoon, so we decided to check out King’s Chapel Graveyard and Granary Graveyard Monday morning. The preservation of the old grave markers is unbelievable. There sure are a bunch of famous dead people between the two lots located virtually across the street from one another. For some reason, I took more pictures there than anywhere else we went. It seemed way too beautiful to be occupied by dead people.

We left for the airport pretty early and were surprised to find a white cab driver who apparently ignores the $200 fine because it’s so FUN to run down pedestrians in crosswalks. When we got to the airport and checked our flight, there was a big red “DELAYED” next to it. What the hell? The weather was clear as can be in Boston and Darren informed me that it was fine in Minneapolis as well. We were informed by other passengers that we would probably be waiting hours, so I was thrilled when we were allowed to board only 25 minutes longer than we were originally supposed to. Upon arriving back home, we look the light rail downtown, where I ran into my co-worker who was ready to pull her hair out. From there, we took the bus to my apartment I’m pretty sure Angie’s favorite part of the trip was experiencing Minneapolis’s public transportation with bulky, heavy luggage.

We successfully navigated our way TO Boston, THROUGH Boston (on foot, no less!) and BACK from Boston. I’m pretty damn proud of us.

I need to go unpack now.

How’s that for anti-climactic?