En route to Boston

I'll start from the beginning of my awesome week-long vacation, with little bits and pieces I wrote while on the road, supplemented by my photographic stylings:

This is good. I’m on the plane for my vacation and I already feel the need to write. Writing for myself has now become a regular part of my day. I feel incomplete if I haven’t spent at least a bit of my day jotting down my thoughts. If only I felt that way about working out! Soon, soon, I say.

My plane to Boston took off just 30 minutes ago, and already I have already experienced a few of the bizarre incidents that are a hallmark of all of my travel activities. On the bright side, I met a Red Sox fan at my coffee shop this morning whose enthusiasm for Boston and baseball made me look forward to my trip even more. On the darker side, I left my ATM card in the cash machine after making my vacation fund withdrawal. I blame this mistake on the fact that I slept only 3 hours due to a mountainous pile of work that prevented me from leaving the office or packing until after Midnight. Of course, I only realized this after arriving at the gate as late as one possibly could arrive because I tiredly missed an exit and had to take the long way to the airport, evading a random and impressive (if one was not in a hurry) traffic backup on the way.

Now, back to the in-flight move, “The Wedding Date.”

Day One: How did I end up in remotest India? Arrived at Boston’s airport, and was pleased with the breezy cab ride into town. That is, until the requisite exit from the tunnel was closed and we spend 30 minutes traveling 1 mile over a bridge. Had I known how close we were to my hotel, I would have stepped out and schlepped the rest of the way. I did like my cabbie, though, which always makes the trip go faster. So, arrived at the hotel and quickly snapped a photo of the room before heading out:

More on the "remotest India" remark in a moment . . .