Stuck in a truck

As I was walking to work this morning, I noticed a few police cars blocking an intersection that I normally cross. I looked closer and saw that they were intentionally blocking the on-ramp to Storrow Drive, a major highway that runs along the Charles River. A semi was stuck on the ramp - the turn was too tight for the trailer to make. The sad thing was that there's a huge sign at the ramp entrance that says "No Trucks." I guess the truck driver was just following another one's lead - last night a different semi truck got stuck on Storrow Drive:


All of this reminded me of the time that Josh and I drove a big yellow Penske truck across the country a couple summers ago. The truck was full of my crap because I was moving from Houston to Boston to start grad school. We mapquested the whole route before we left Houston, but we didn't have street maps for every state in between.

Anyway, we did fine until we got to New York City. Our directions took us through areas that were relatively close to Manhattan (which, looking back, was really a recipe for disaster in itself), and at one point we had to get onto a road that had a "No Trucks" sign. The sign didn't specify why trucks weren't allowed, and it's not like we were carrying any hazardous materials or had a heavy tractor-trailer. I had rented the smallest truck they had, which was really just one step up from a large van. Also, we didn't know any other way to get around New York City, and we only had about 3 seconds to make the decision, so we decided to get on the road.

After a couple miles, it became abundantly clear why trucks weren't allowed on this stretch of highway - the low, curved bridges. The writing on the truck said that its height was 9 feet. The rental agreement, however, specified that we shouldn't go under anything that was lower than 10' 6".

At any other time, and in any other car, those stone bridges would have been very picturesque. They sloped gently over the road and many were covered with moss or other plants, which shone in the afternoon sun. However, we were in the big yellow truck, and the bridges kept getting lower and lower. We passed 11 feet, 10 feet, and then just barely above 9'. My heart was pounding and Josh's knuckles were white. The next bridge came up quickly just after we rounded a corner. The sign read 8' 8".

I panicked. There was no room, or time, to get over into the left lane where the peak of the bridge was higher. Josh slowed down as much as he could in the few feet that we had left, and I held my breath, preparing myself for the sickening scrape and jerk to a halt.

Miraculously, either the bridge or our truck was generously labeled. We slid under the bridge without scraping anything - and then we both started breathing again. Thankfully, there were only a few miles left to go on this road before we got back on the interstate, and the rest of the bridges were above 9 feet.

Once we got to Boston, our directions told us to get onto Storrow Drive to go the rest of the way to my new apartment. Josh refused. There was no way either of us was taking any more chances with low bridges. At least on Storrow Drive though, they have the good sense to post why large trucks shouldn't get on the road.

Maybe height is the default reason why trucks aren't allowed on certain roads, so that's why it's not usually posted. I don't know; I'm not much of a truck driver. I never paid much attention to those signs on the interstate that show the clearance height of upcoming overpasses, but after our trip through New York, I notice them all the time. And these ones hit close to home...

Iceball

This winter storm that has blown through the Northeast and Midwest hasn't quite lived up to the hype, at least here in Boston. It snowed about 4 inches overnight, and now we're down to freezing rain. I decided that I'd rather not risk my neck in the campus shuttle with the crazy drivers and icy roads, so I walked to work this morning. The majority of my walk is across the Harvard Bridge, and it's always pretty windy. This morning I had to hold my hand up on the right side of my face to keep the freezing rain from stinging the part of my cheek that wasn't covered up by my hat or hood.

When I finally made it to work, I took off my gloves and started to put them in my pocket when I felt a lump at the bottom of my right pocket. Evidently I left my jacket pocket open while I was walking, because when I pulled out the lump, it turned out to be a perfectly round iceball, just the size of a cherry tomato.

The prom

Last night was our company's Social Gala - too late to be called a Christmas party, but too early to really be a Spring Fling. So it's affectionately known as the company prom. Anyway, it was at the Boston Courthouse, which was really beautiful. We weren't allowed to bring cameras to the event though, so no pictures. :( A bunch of us Fellows - grad students whose research is being sponsored by the company, like me - went to the event together to take advantage of the all-you-can-eat buffet and to watch our advisors dance to Celebration by KC and the Sunshine Band and other standard wedding reception songs. We giggled a bit at the dancing, but hey, none of us looked particularly good out there, regardless of age, and we were all having a good time. It was when the kissing started during Marvin Gaye's Let's Get it On that we decided it was time to go.

Since we were all dressed up and it was only 11pm, we decided to go to Top of the Hub, which is the restaurant at the top of the Prudential Center. When we got to the Pru however, the hostess on the ground floor told us that the wait to get on the elevator was about 30-40 minutes, and the kitchen and bar close at midnight. By this time it was already almost 11:30, so we decided to skip it and just go to another bar down the street. I spent a ridiculous amount of money last night though, between the ticket and the drinks and the cab... can't do the prom every weekend.

Oh, and I was able to wear my contacts the entire night! My eyes were kind of dry by the time I went to bed, but it was hard to determine how much of that was from the contacts and how much of that was just from the fact that it was 1am...

Early to bed, first in the shower

I have not been doing well on my New Year's resolution to go to bed earlier. This means that I still snooze for way too long in the morning and then get into the shower only about 20 minutes before I used to. For about the first five minutes, all is well in the shower. Then the water starts to get cold. So I turn the handle further toward the hot water. But the water just gets colder. And then the pressure drops until it's barely just a trickle, dribbling out of the shower head. This is fine for activities like shaving, but for anything else you'd want to do, it sucks. Huddling in the back of your tub to avoid getting sprayed with icewater for 10 minutes per shower is not my idea of a fun way to start the day.

I can only guess that I'm taking a shower at the same time as 90% of the rest of our apartment building. The first time it happened was in the evening, so I assumed someone was doing laundry, but I highly doubt that anyone's doing laundry every morning at 8am. The building is pretty old, and apparently the hot water heater can't handle the load when all of us decide to shower at once.

Most of the time, I like my apartment. In fact, I love it every time I write my rent check and marvel at the fact that I'm paying almost $250 less per month than I did last year. The location is fantastic, the building is quiet, and I love the views and sunlight (and no weird upstairs-neighbor noises) that come with living on the top floor. But the building is old, there are old cigarette burns on our carpet from previous tenants, and the bathroom grows mildew like nobody's business because there's no airflow through there. There are things that I'd put more pressure on the management company to fix if we were staying longer, but I've lost interest in fixing most of them because I'm moving in 5 months. I'd like to say that makes me easy going, but it probably just makes me a lazy bum.