We made it to Boston. I have dreamed of this day since I was 14. That was the trip of a lifetime with my family in the purple station wagon for a month-long odyssey across the county. The trip today was nearly as traumatic.
It all started with an all-nighter for me, as I frantically tried to get our house and kids ready for us to leave for 10 days. Plus, we had 70 shrubs I had to place in the beds in order for the planters to get them in the ground today. I finished everything I needed to do at about 2:30 am, but I figured that going to sleep for one hour would mess me up more than staying awake, so I stayed up.
Our taxi came to the house at 4:15. We hopped in and he asked where we were flying. Mark told him we were heading to Boston to run the marathon. The driver said, "no kidding? How far is your marathon?" I was stunned. 3 minutes into our trip and my second-least favorite question had been asked. My ultimate least favorite question is when I have all the kids with me and someone asks, "are they all yours?" Duh. Look at them.
Anyway, we sailed on to Denver without an incident. While waiting for our connecting flight to Boston, it started to snow. I was in heaven. We hopped on to the plane and made our way out to the runway. The plane started to take off, but then stopped. Sadly, we were without a functional engine #2. We spent an hour on the plane while they assessed the damage, and then spent an hour in the terminal while we waited for a new plane to arrive. We loaded up on the new plane, where we sat for another hour while they loaded bags and 2 entire trailers of US mail.
Finally we were on our way.
Tomorrow we are going to run around the commons and then go walk the freedom trail before the masses arrive Friday night. I also must go find Dorchester heights and a memorial to my hero Henry Knox.
Good night.
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