There’s a lot to be said about the positive effects of sunshine and blue sky and a little extra time for yourself.
Maybe I owe some credit to my dad, for always taking The Long Way Home. From Christmas dinners, soccer games, family vacations, and ice creams at Tulmeadow Farm, chances are, if there’s an alternate route, winding through narrow back-roads, my dad’s talking it. A habit I’ve always disliked and will probably always groan about.
But I think there might be something I’ve been missing, because today I took The Long Way Home and it was exactly what I needed.
On June 30th, I hopped off the T at 7:50AM with 50 minutes to spare before Social Media Day (yes, that’s a real, official holiday!) celebrations began in Fort Point. Note to self: it takes 40 minutes to get from Brookline to South Station, not 90, as I had prepared for. I purchased my iced americano from two guys with a pint-sized coffee counter attached to a bicycle; The Coffee Trike, if you will (I’m more in love after visiting this site). One was British, looking dapper in gingham and the other, I’m assuming from the faded Bruins hat and thick accent, was straight from The Hub (is that what the locals are calling it?).
We chatted about the weather and I tried to act cool (read as: tried and failed to discretely take photos without looking like a dork), as if this whole coffee-from-a-bicycle thing was just another mundane part of my daily routine. Nothing special at all.
To my dismay, Dewy Square Park was occupied by lawn mowers & maintenance crews, bright red Adirondack chairs stacked tall along it’s perimeters, Shinique Smith mural, a not-so-subtle backdrop, dark and dull in the shadows of the morning sun. So instead I wandered around (in my famous Loft pants), weaving through hoards of empty handed, suit-and-tie-wearing men and women clad in pencil skirts and athletic sneakers, draped in tote bags stuffed with gym clothes and comfortable shoes, coffee cup and cell phone squeezed together in the same hand; the uniform of a workin’ woman (…expect for me. you will never see in sneaks and a skirt, ever).
I finished my coffee, snapped a few snaps, ran into my brother (empty handed, no tote bags, comfortable work shoes; the very different uniform of a workin’ man), and headed towards Melcher Street, whistling along to new tunes from Broken Into Better Shape (Specifically, Small World) streaming through my headphones.
I arrived in the basement of 51 Melcher Street at General Assembly (click the link!), greeted by a familiar face at the check-in desk, who now knows that “Lagasse” is spelled with an “a” and not an “e” because I’m a GA regular. A long line of social media enthusiasts, much like myself, crowded the doorway to classroom 3, everyone waiting for their turn to ogle and select a prize from the assortment of Union Square Donuts (ok, if you don’t click this one you’re crazy) that sat waiting for us. Included in the mouth-watering mix: sea salted bourbon caramel, maple bacon and malted milk chocolate. Webster hasn’t come up with the right words to describe these donuts just yet, so you’ll have to taste for yourself.
For the next 90 minutes I sat in a room filled with My People. People whose minds think in 140 characters or less, whose eyes see the world in a frame that is 110×110 pixels large, whose thumbs are always scrolling, actively not aimlessly, always listening with their fingers, creating and expressing, always connecting and engaging with a pretty large world on a pretty small screen.
[insert a few more lines about my infatuation towards all things social.]
[blah, blah, blah, we all get it, I like Instagram a lot and Twitter’s ok, too]
I took The Long Way Home because well, I needed it. So this is where I leave you. With a confident declaration of the death of my Writers Block, a very big thank you for sticking with me as I sulked it out for a few posts and a collection of lovely photos from a picture perfect day in Beantown (which does NOT have quite the same ring to it as “The City of Brotherly Love”…but I guess I can work with it).
A big shout out to my dad on this one. I think I get it now.
…Or maybe you really do take The Long Way Home just to bug me.
(I’m 99% sure my dad doesn’t know that OUaP exists. Oh well.)