Stuff I Learned in Boston

I suppose it’s just about time that I fess up. By now, chances are pretty good that you’ve already heard. You might say the chances are better than even. I hear the rumors have been making the rounds all week.
You just can’t keep anything a secret these days.

Understand that this is not easy for me. It pains me to admit it. But folks keep telling me that coming clean will do a body good, so I stand before you now a humbled woman, open and honest and willing to confess that LAST WEEK, I SNUCK OUTSIDE OF TEXAS.

Not just a little bit outside of Texas, but wa-a-ay outside of Texas. To Boston, Massachusetts, which is about as far away from Texas as it is possible to get, geographically and philosophically speaking.

You heard me right: I got onto an airplane and I flew. Through the air! I felt my superpowers draining away as I crossed the Texas border and flew into the infamous United States of America.

The airplane trip looked like this:

 

Well, no. That’s not entirely accurate. The places were not labeled, and I flew over the ocean for a little while before finally landing in Boston.

While I was over the ocean, I looked out of the window of the airplane, down at all that water and at the little boats and the ships floating. There was not very much going on down there.

Then some more time went by, and the pilot must have decided he would land the airplane, and that’s when I got out and I was in Boston! I discovered I had misplaced an hour of time somewhere along the way.

But I got off of the airplane nonetheless, and then I was in Boston for about one week, and I even learned some things. And since I do not want for you to ever have to go through all the trouble of flying to Boston, Massachusetts, let me take a few moments to share with you what it was I learned.

So consider this my report back from behind enemy lines.

1.         Texas humans and Massachusetts humans: Not all that different! I suspect – and understand I say this with absolutely no empirical evidence – that the two species might be close enough genetically to interbreed, although of course the resulting offspring would be infertile, like any other mule. More research is needed.

You see, I did a lot of reading online before my journey, and it was my understanding that the dividing line between “Liberals” and “Conservatives” defines humanity. Therefore, to discover that Massachusetts Liberals have families, possess the same basic bodily reflexes, order pizza in the same manner, and have roughly the same volume of blood in their veins as Texas Conservatives, well, it was deeply shocking to this humble and humbled reporter, to say the least.

2.         Boston brains must think more vertically than Houston brains. While in Boston, I became aware of a geological phenomenon known as “hills”. If, for example, I am standing in front of a house and I look up, there’s a good chance I will see a whole other house above the first one, on a hill. Maybe three houses, each above the next. This is fortunate, in a way, because the poor Bostonians are just about out of space. But it makes a Houstonian’s head bend in funny ways to have to remember to look up in order to see more Boston things.

Rest assured, this reporter’s brain has flattened back out since returning safely to Houston.

3.         Not all Bostonians look like these Bostonians:

 

I just thought you ought to know that.

4.         Crowds of tourists can drain the magic out of anything. While in Massachusetts, I visited the holy shrine known as Walden Pond. I visited the place where the Declaration of Independence was first read. I visited a university called “Harvard” and the site of the so-called “Shot Heard Round the World.” Other people were there, too. Some were swimming in Walden Pond or eating pizza or taking photographs.

If there was ever any magic in these places, it was gone by the time I got there. Perhaps the cameras had sapped away all of the spirits. This reporter can say with some degree of certainty that the inside of her own head is an infinitely more magical and astonishing locale than any of these famous places you read about in books.

5.         Whales are bipolar, just like your humble reporter. While I was in Boston, I got onto a boat with a lot of other tourists. The boat went way, way out into the ocean, out where whales spend their summers getting fat on plankton and little fish. Every once in a while, one or two of the whales poked parts of their large whale bodies up and out of the water. When they poked up their head or tail, the tourists would all gasp and shriek and snap photographs.

Mostly, the whales stayed under the water, though. They seemed to like it better down there. I do not know what they were doing under all that water. Staying away from the gasping and shrieking and snapping of photographs, I suppose.

After this went on for some time, your humble reporter diagnosed the whales with bipolar disorder, a condition that this reporter admits also having benefit of experiencing firsthand. Like the whales, I spend much of my time in the darkness below. There is a whole other deep world down there! Occasionally, however, the whales and I find we need to surface for air. When we do, there are generally a bunch of people standing around gasping and shrieking and snapping photographs.

The Boston whales taught me that I want to spend much, much more time beneath the surface. Although I might (grudgingly) share with you any curiosities I find whilst down in the darkness, the gasping and shrieking and snapping of photographs limit how much time I care to spend up here.

Do not take it personally.

I am safely back in Houston, Texas now. I am within my house and the doors are locked and Current 93 is playing upon my CD playing machine.

And I prepare for my next trip, this one deep under the surface of the waters, into the depths of my own head, where I am assured there are significantly fewer tourists this time of year.

I might be surfacing on occasion to report my findings.

No flash photography, please.