An Unexpected Twist

Last weekend, I was supposed to babysit for a six-year old boy and his two-year old sister who I haven't seen since the spring. I was really looking forward to seeing them, but unfortunately, I woke up on Saturday morning to a distressed voicemail from their mother. The little girl had gotten phenomena two weeks ago, and then got a different strain this past week. They weren't going to leave me with the kids just in case she had to go to the hospital again.
Disappointed that I wasn't going to see the kids and frustrated that I had asked for the day off from work, I listened as the mother continued to explain the whole situation. They had paid to go on a dinner cruise in Boston Harbor for her 40th birthday, and the last day to refund the tickets had already passed. She wanted to know if my boyfriend and I would like to use the tickets, as they would go to waste otherwise.
Needless to say, my boyfriend called out of work and we made our way to Rowes Wharf in downtown Boston to board the Odyssey. We came up from the parking garage in the impressive Rowes Wharf archway, completely in awe of the grand architecture around us. As we waited to board the ship, we were afforded views of the full moon rising above Boston Harbor.
At 7 o'clock, we made our way on board. The dining room was that of a five-star restaurant; dimly lit and modernly styled. As we entered our deck, we were greeted by a maitre d' who then called our hospitable waitress to show us to our table. We were some of the lucky ones who received a window table. Our table was set with fine linens and more silverware than I knew what to do with. The menu was almost all foreign to me, but among the three courses I was able to pick out the words "salad, ribs," and "cake." Granted, the salad was Boston Bibb, the ribs were short, and the cake was 'decadent' and 'torte.' The menu as about as intimidating as the formal dress code and atmosphere.
As the night drew on, we were able to feel more comfortable in the dining room, but we still never grew used to the constant attention our waitress paid us or the feeling that everyone else was wondering why we were there. We took several strolls to the upper observation deck, but our walks were always cut short due to the frigid wind. The views of the city were out of this world, something that I might never have seen otherwise in my lifetime. After several failed attempts, I stopped trying to take pictures, because I knew that they could never do justice to the reality.

Home Sweet Home

A few days ago, one of my friends from home was having a goodbye dinner at the local Chili's in Smithfield. Having graduated Massachusetts Maritime Academy last spring, he was literally shipping off again for several months to the Great Lakes to work on board a ship. As I sat in the passenger seat of my boyfriend's Honda, I didn't pay attention to the road as the commute was familiar from Point Judith to Warwick where I work.

Suddenly, I realized I hadn't been past exit 2 in over a month. I began to pay attention to the way the leaves looked on the side of the highway and I appreciated the rock formations on the sides of the highway from the passenger seat the same way I had my whole life. I remembered being a little girl and only passing through that rock 'tunnel' on the way from Foster to see Santa or the Easter Bunny at the Rhode Island Mall. Other than that, my parents preferred to stay in the Northern parts of the state. And as we made our way to Smithfield, I could understand my parent's preference.

Suddenly, I was seeing the road home in a different way. It's funny how when you're away from something for long enough you begin to appreciate it more.

I gazed out the window as the birds eye view of Johnston appeared to my right, the skyscrapers of Providence just visible in the distance. I watched as my exit passed, but it didn't matter- all of this was home. I closed my eyes as we flew over the familiar bump-bump-bump of the uneven part of 295, just after the North onramp from Route 6 in Johnston. I watched the church on my left come into view and disappear- the one building so close to the highway for miles.

When the car finally slowed to take the exit and then stopped in the Chili's parking lot, I was struck by how odd it was to be there. For the past three years, I have constantly shifted my life from being home in Northern and Southern Rhode Island.
Considering the size of the state, this may not seem like a significant difference. But as I stepped out of the car I felt the difference with every sense. It looked different, it smelled different, it felt different. Differences I wouldn't have known or been able to appreciate had I not lived somewhere else.

Columbus Day Weekend

On Monday, my boyfriend and I enjoyed our first day off together this semester. Because it was a Monday and we normally had class, we weren't put on the schedule at work. And because it was a holiday, we had the day off from school. Like most Rhode Islander's on Columbus Day weekend, we decided to head to the Scituate Art Festival. However, unlike most Rhode Islanders, I did not grow up with this as a tradition in my family. Actually, growing up in Foster meant that the Scituate Art Festival was more of a pain in the butt than anything as it blocked off our access to the rest of Rhode Island via Rt 6 for an entire weekend. This was only the second time that I had been to the Art Festival in my life.

I have to say, without the nostalgia of growing up with this tradition, and without the luxury of hundreds of dollars to spend, I find the Art Festival somewhat disappointing. We walked around and looked at beautiful art that we didn't have the money to buy, then we bought a bag of kettle corn on our way out and drove to the Warwick Mall.

I hadn't seen the mall since it reopened, so that, coupled with the inciting sales at many stores, made a good end to the day. I was glad to see that it still looked like the familiar place I've spent so many hours in. The topiaries, although different, were still there, as was the carousel and the giant television in the food court (although now a giant LED screen). Although I would have liked to see more changes, it was also nice that it has stayed mostly the same. I think the best part about seeing the "new" mall was knowing that even the places that were affected worst by the flood are on their way back to normal. It was almost therapeutic for me, as I lived in an off-campus house last year that was one of the few flood victims in this part of the state. Because of the flood my whole living area was torn apart and I had to move back home. Although I was no longer living in that house, every time I drove to work I would pass the Warwick Mall- a giant reminder of past troubles.

In my mind, the mall had became a symbol of the struggles the people of our state had gone though and were continuing to recover from. It was relieving to see this symbol of such a terrible disaster back on its feet and ready to move on.

The Happiest Place on Earth?

After the end of the semester last year, my boyfriend and I needed a vacation. We decided that we would go on nice, long, relaxing trip to Florida. We would spend two weeks in Orlando with a ten-day pass to Disney. Originally, we planned to spend our time seeing all the other sights, but we knew that once we were in Orlando we’d end up at Downtown Disney, and then at a theme park paying at the gate the next day. We knew we wouldn’t be able to resist the Disney magic (or the Disney propaganda).

Since my boyfriend refuses to fly anywhere he can drive (which I found out about the year before when I went to Disney with his whole family) the trip started out with me falling asleep at 2 A.M. and waking up at 3:30 A.M. to begin the 24 hour drive. The previous year, we left on December 26th , and I had not slept well the previous two nights. Because of this, I was able to sleep in the car for more than ¾ of the journey. This time I had no such luck. I was wide-awake and excited despite my lack of sleep the night before. We drove all the way to Georgia before we pulled over at the cheapest hotel we could find, which turned out to be a bad idea. Despite it being an Econolodge, the room was still dirty from the last people who had stayed there. And although it was still dirty, the AC was not still on. It was like walking into a sauna. It was the dirtiest room I had stayed in my whole life. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well again.

When we finally made it to our hotel in Orlando, we were worn out yet ready to go. We decided to spend our first night in Downtown Disney. We stayed out late, and got up early to open the Magic Kingdom in the morning. We were energetic despite our lack of sleep. It was our first travel experience being able to do what we wanted, when we wanted. Neither of us had ever been on a vacation without parents or teachers calling the shots. It was great, and because we had ten days to see Disney, we didn’t ever feel rushed or guilty about not getting up at the crack of dawn. It was up to us what park we wanted to see, what rides we wanted to go on, and if we wanted to just head out for the day to see the city.

Then, after the fifth day or so, what started out as a relaxing vacation turned into one of the most exhausting of my life. By this time, we’d already been to all the parks. We had rode each ride at least once, and our favorites about four times. Because we had so much time to spend in Disney, we started getting up later and later and going home earlier and earlier. This did nothing to curb our exhaustion- simply being in the park was draining. After the sixth day, I stopped seeing all the smiling faces around me and could only hear the whining, screaming, and crying. And I thought, Why are these kids so unhappy? You’re in Disney, damn it, shut up! Then I realized Wow, I’m just as cranky as those kids.

One night, I made my boyfriend stop at a 24 hour CVS on the way home from the parks. All I could think about was the incredibly hot bath I was going to take when we got back to the hotel. My feet were sore, my bad back was acting up, I had a headache, and all I wanted was a bottle of Mr. Bubbles so I could take a bubble bath. When I saw the empty space on the shelf where the Mr. Bubble should have been, I nearly started crying out of frustration.

By the tenth day, I was done with Disney. My friends from home pointed out that every status update I had made was a complaint- people were blocking my view of the fireworks, we couldn’t get a table at the Rainforest Café, and five year olds were cutting me in line. I knew that it was time to go when I was in line for my favorite ride at the Magic Kingdom- The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, and I almost screamed at the ten-year-old boy in front of me because he kept getting too close to me.

Although I knew that as soon as I got home I would wish I was back in that line with personal-space-invader boy, all I wanted was to pack up the car and go home. It was one of my favorite vacations, but also one of the most exhausting.