Monday, March 05, 2007

Boston















Over the years, I truly understood the meaning of the phrase "time and tide waits for no man". When I was in junior college, I had a terrific time. I truly believed that my clique of buddies left a permanent legacy of notorious undertakings...I thought the memories will be well preserved by the teachers who will stay behind, the concrete buildings that were our classrooms and playgrounds, the ex-classmates whom I will keep close touch with forever.

Little did I knew that within a couple years, almost no one remembered us. Only once I re-visited the campus. I found out my school building was destroyed and replaced by a new building that was erected about 500 yards away. Majority of my teachers left. The memories of the canteen benches where we played carrom, the secluded lecture theater where we had rendezvoused while truanting, the backyard where we played soccer, etc. were reduced to nothing but vague recollection in my mind. There weren't any physical memento to recount. I am not in touch with a single of my classmates.

I always wanted to visit Boston and my remaining good buddies to recount my wonderful years I spent there during my graduate school. From experience, I knew it might turn out to be a rather nostalgic yet mildly chilling experience. Oof is scheduled to complete his PhD this year; I have to visit him as he was one of my closest buddies there.

The weather was horrific this week as I flew out of Kansas City to Boston. I was grounded in Detroit for a night while I was trying to make a connection to bean town. I almost lost an entire day due to delays on top of piling work that needed completion. I almost gave up and booked for a flight back to LAX. I felt that I was not destined to visit Boston. Miraculously, 10 min before I boarded my plane to LAX, I decided to cancel my flight and persevere my original journey to visit Oof and friends.

The flight was further delayed and they had to spray down the entire plane with de-icer before we were sanctioned to fly. Eventually, the plane took flight.

I spent the weekend walking about and chilling out (literally in the cold yet sunny weather) in cambridge. There were new and unfamiliar sights as well as very familiar ones. It was like finding Wally..."is that new?" That must have been my most used phrase this weekend.

However, I did recognize some staple ones...100 memorial drive, where some of my peculiar friends used to reside. The liquor store on Mass Ave that supplied numerous hours of intoxication and contributed to the wine stains on my tutorial sheets.

I had nee-romien for two breakfast in a row; a delicacy that I used to enjoy every weekend.

However, one memory that was etched in my mind was that of Oof enjoying his drag of cigarette he held from his shivering hands at the corner of sidney and pacific...a sight so complimentary to the background of roaming alcoholics and homeless folks trudging their way to the nearby home.