On Saturday, I found out that the bridge I normally cross to get to work every day was going to be closed on Sunday so that it could be used to shoot scenes for an upcoming movie. The movie is “21,” and it’s based on the true story of MIT students who made millions of dollars by counting cards playing blackjack in Las Vegas. There’s already a book about these kids calling Bringing Down the House, which I highly recommend if you haven’t read it.
Anyway, I had heard that the bridge would be open between takes for pedestrians and cyclists, so I decided to take my chances. When I got to the bridge though, police weren’t letting anyone across. I guess Kevin Spacey has a little more clout with the city of Boston than I do. And I was bummed that didn’t even get to see anyone famous!
The bridge reopened by the time the Yankees-Red Sox game got underway last night. The game must have been pretty intense because I could hear the crowd cheering at Fenway Park around midnight last night, all the way from my apartment in Kenmore Square. I don’t miss all the loud drunks by 4 am, but living down the street from Fenway Park is pretty cool. I’m definitely going to miss Boston.
Showing posts with label Boston. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boston. Show all posts
Monday, April 23, 2007
Friday, February 23, 2007
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...
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...
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Christmas lights
Every year, the city of Boston puts up lights along the Commonwealth Avenue mall. This year, since we live right in Kenmore Square, I'm lucky enough to see it right out my window every night.
I also managed to catch a teeny-tiny sliver of the moon last night.
It's been feeling very un-Christmas-y over the past week or so though because the weather's been so warm. Not that I'm complaining, of course, but it's a little weird to be able to go running in shorts and a t-shirt in the middle of December.
I'm really looking forward to going home next week. My thesis advisor, on the other hand, wasn't overly excited to hear that I'll be out of town for two whole weeks. I'm not really planning to get a lot of work done while I'm at home, but it's amazing how unproductive December will end up being with my final project (completed and turned in yesterday), my final exam (coming up on Tuesday), and losing the last ten days to being out of town.
Oh well. I'm sure my thesis will be able to sufficiently ruin my life for the next 5 months, so why have it ruin the next two weeks?
I also managed to catch a teeny-tiny sliver of the moon last night.
It's been feeling very un-Christmas-y over the past week or so though because the weather's been so warm. Not that I'm complaining, of course, but it's a little weird to be able to go running in shorts and a t-shirt in the middle of December.
I'm really looking forward to going home next week. My thesis advisor, on the other hand, wasn't overly excited to hear that I'll be out of town for two whole weeks. I'm not really planning to get a lot of work done while I'm at home, but it's amazing how unproductive December will end up being with my final project (completed and turned in yesterday), my final exam (coming up on Tuesday), and losing the last ten days to being out of town.
Oh well. I'm sure my thesis will be able to sufficiently ruin my life for the next 5 months, so why have it ruin the next two weeks?
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
They just keep on leaving
I met Greddy at 7 this morning to bike down to Carson beach and the JFK Library. I grumbled a bit getting out of bed at 6:30, but the ride was totally worth it. I've decided that August is officially the best month of the year in Boston - June was too rainy, July was too hot, and I don't have a car so I can't drive through the Berkshires to admire the fall colors. That sort of thing is pretty boring anyway unless you're hiking, camping, canoeing, or doing some other actual outdoor activity instead of just ooh-ing and ahh-ing from your car. But I digress. This August has been absolutely beautiful. Very sunny and warm without being hot.
So we biked for about two hours and then when I got back to my apartment, June was getting ready to leave for the airport. First Phil, then Glenn, now June is moving out. My little apartment is lonely again. It was nice to have some female company this summer after all the burping, football, and conversations composed entirely of movie quotes with the guys. I love them, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it would have been nice to have another girl around to balance things out.
I got a package slip in my mailbox last Wednesday, so on Thursday afternoon I trekked down to the post office to pick up the pillows I bought in Houston that Josh had sent to me. But when I got there, I was told that the package hadn't gotten back in yet, so I should come back the next day. I came back on Saturday and was told, again, that the package wasn't there, but if I could leave my phone number with the post office, they'd check their other nearby offices to see if my pillows popped up. This morning I called again to see if my long-lost pillows had shown up, and the guy I spoke with said that they had. Yay! So I can go pick them up this afternoon and toss out my old crummy ones. (Side fact: According to this website, up to 10% of the weight of a 2-year-old pillow is dust mites and their poop.) The dude told me that there was some confusion with my box because there was another name on it besides mine so someone might have assumed that was the recipient. "The name?" I ask. "Uhh... N-A-S-A," he says. "Anyone you know?"
So we biked for about two hours and then when I got back to my apartment, June was getting ready to leave for the airport. First Phil, then Glenn, now June is moving out. My little apartment is lonely again. It was nice to have some female company this summer after all the burping, football, and conversations composed entirely of movie quotes with the guys. I love them, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it would have been nice to have another girl around to balance things out.
~~~
I got a package slip in my mailbox last Wednesday, so on Thursday afternoon I trekked down to the post office to pick up the pillows I bought in Houston that Josh had sent to me. But when I got there, I was told that the package hadn't gotten back in yet, so I should come back the next day. I came back on Saturday and was told, again, that the package wasn't there, but if I could leave my phone number with the post office, they'd check their other nearby offices to see if my pillows popped up. This morning I called again to see if my long-lost pillows had shown up, and the guy I spoke with said that they had. Yay! So I can go pick them up this afternoon and toss out my old crummy ones. (Side fact: According to this website, up to 10% of the weight of a 2-year-old pillow is dust mites and their poop.) The dude told me that there was some confusion with my box because there was another name on it besides mine so someone might have assumed that was the recipient. "The name?" I ask. "Uhh... N-A-S-A," he says. "Anyone you know?"
Monday, August 14, 2006
Lazy
The past two days have made up the laziest weekend I've had in a long time. On Friday, I was in bed by 9:30. On Saturday, I was woken up at 10am by the maintenance crew who had come to replace my bedroom window. (On the 4th, the glass shattered when I was trying to close the window. Turns out smashing a window isn't as hard as it looks in the movies! I got away with just a few scrapes on my hands and arms, but I went through a significant number of bandaids that weekend.) Anyway, one benefit of renting an apartment is that it usually comes with a maintenance crew, and the guys for my building are, thankfully, prompt and thorough. They removed the window frame and boarded up the hole over the weekend and then came back on Saturday to replace the window.) Anyway, after that I figured that I couldn't go back to bed (sleep more than 13 hours??), so I got up to run some errands. But after I got home, I spent the rest of the day reading, watching a movie, and going to sleep early - again.
On Sunday I woke up late and read some more, then biked out to Fort Independence. The actual fort was closed by the time I got there, but it was still nice to wander around Castle Island (not an actual island at all). On the east side of the island, there's a hill that slopes down from the fort to the water, and it immediately reminded me of Gas Works Park in Seattle. Ahh, Seattle... There was also an enormous cruise ship leaving the harbor, which was pretty cool to watch, and a reminder of Galveston, the only other place I've seen cruise ships up close. I've only seen them leaving their ports though, when everyone's cheering and excited about leaving on their trip. I wonder what everyone looks and sounds like when they get back... depressed that vacation is over? Glad to get out of their tuna-can room? Seasick?
Anyway. I also saw World Trade Center last night. I was prepared for it to be sad and depressing, but I wasn't prepared for how graphic it was. Definitely not a movie for the claustrophobic. I thought the movie was done well, but to me, the more powerful "movie" to watch is HBO's 9/11 documentary. I guess I was expecting World Trade Center to seem more realistic, which now seems silly, considering that it's still a Hollywood production.
On Sunday I woke up late and read some more, then biked out to Fort Independence. The actual fort was closed by the time I got there, but it was still nice to wander around Castle Island (not an actual island at all). On the east side of the island, there's a hill that slopes down from the fort to the water, and it immediately reminded me of Gas Works Park in Seattle. Ahh, Seattle... There was also an enormous cruise ship leaving the harbor, which was pretty cool to watch, and a reminder of Galveston, the only other place I've seen cruise ships up close. I've only seen them leaving their ports though, when everyone's cheering and excited about leaving on their trip. I wonder what everyone looks and sounds like when they get back... depressed that vacation is over? Glad to get out of their tuna-can room? Seasick?
Anyway. I also saw World Trade Center last night. I was prepared for it to be sad and depressing, but I wasn't prepared for how graphic it was. Definitely not a movie for the claustrophobic. I thought the movie was done well, but to me, the more powerful "movie" to watch is HBO's 9/11 documentary. I guess I was expecting World Trade Center to seem more realistic, which now seems silly, considering that it's still a Hollywood production.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Boston bricks
Several months ago, I got a Boston guidebook so that I could read about all the things that I haven't seen/been to/eaten during my past 5 years in Boston, hoping that I could cram them all in by next June. Last Sunday I made it to the Boston Bricks, a little public art in Winthrop Square. After wandering around the square for an embarrassingly long time looking for these arty bricks on the wall, I gave up and turned around, only to stumble over them on the ground (literally) on my way back to my bike. The bricks show different places and events unique to Boston, and so in tourbook fashion, I took several pictures before leaving. :)
First, get your bearings.
Next is the Longfellow Bridge, whose supports sort of look like salt & pepper shakers. It looks a little more like this in real life.
It's made of cheese!
Every good city needs a clock tower...
...and a way to measure the length of a bridge. Smoot was a short dude, an MIT fraternity pledge back in '58, and his frat buddies decided it would be a good idea to use him to measure the Harvard Bridge. The length: 364.4 Smoots + 1 ear.
First, get your bearings.
Next is the Longfellow Bridge, whose supports sort of look like salt & pepper shakers. It looks a little more like this in real life.
It's made of cheese!
Every good city needs a clock tower...
...and a way to measure the length of a bridge. Smoot was a short dude, an MIT fraternity pledge back in '58, and his frat buddies decided it would be a good idea to use him to measure the Harvard Bridge. The length: 364.4 Smoots + 1 ear.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Thursday
Somehow it hadn't hit me yet that everyone was going to be leaving until Ann came over for the last time on Thursday. We were good friends in high school, but we didn't stay in touch during college, and it ended up being a mutual friend who told us that we were now both in Boston for grad school. It turned out that we were both big OC fans but didn't have anyone else to watch the show with us. (hecklers don't count!) So every Thursday afterward, Ann came over and we ate Subway and watched the OC. In honor of this past Thursday being the season finale and Ann's last week in Boston though, we decided to forgo the usual Subway routine and try the happy hour at Daisy Buchanan's. We made it back in time for the OC to watch all the characters graduate from high school (with an appropriately tragic ending), and then as Ann got up to leave, I realized she'd be the first person I'd have to say goodbye to this spring. It's nice that we're both from the same hometown and will have more opportunities to get together than those friends from college who are moving to San Francisco and it's entirely possible that you'll never run into them again. But it was still sad... especially since we'd made the effort to "reconnect" after high school, and then we only got a semester to hang out again before Ann left Boston for the real world. :(
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