Our journey to Boston began at the most hideously early hour, 2am (vomits in own mouth), but before I knew it we were aboard the first plane. I was really excited to fly as I’d not flown since I visited Florida 2 years previous and was pleased to be able to get the short flight out of the way first. Squashed between my sister and the window, I snuggled down with an issue of Cosmo in my hand and an episode of That’s What He Said playing in my ears.
The flight flew by (literally) and I soon found myself marvelling at the incredible toilets at Charles de Gaulle. These toilets were magnificent, a solid 10 out of 10. They were genuinely outstanding and allowed me, to steal a word from the Americans, to de-plane my hands which were feeling rather contaminated. The next 9 hours consisted of indecisive film watching (I watched the first half of 3 films before getting fed up), forcing myself to chomp down some god-awful aeroplane food, getting up to go for a nervy plane wee 3 times and learning how to walk again after standing up at the 6 hour point.
The novelty value of flying has not worn off on me and I still get excited by the take-off and landing. I particularly love it when the plane is turning and you can see houses and roads at a funny angle, something which my 5-years-younger-than-me sister clearly finds really annoying. My sister got the joy of sitting next to me on all 4 flights this holiday and her patience was wearing thin. By the end of flight number 2, 12 hours of travelling and my unbearable wittering had got the better of her and she could no longer feign interest in what I was saying. “Ooh look, a boat” I’d say, whilst pointing out of the window at a boat. “Yeh I can see it.” “No no, you’re not looking. See over there, there’s a boat. Oh my god there’s another one!” “Yes Jasmine I can see.” she’d reply with the sort of tone that you’d give a child that you don’t really care much for who was saying something that you don’t really care much about.
All too soon we were driving through Boston listening to a commercial radio station even more annoying than the Cillit Bang adverts. I can only assume that the next 2 things that I mention occurred because of cultural differences between the UK and the US and not because America is heinously outdated.The radio station was holding a phone-in competition and awarding the winners with free tickets to go and see Shaggy, as in Mr. Boombastic circa a long time ago.
The daytime radio presenter’s response to his co-host’s question, ‘it’s almost Halloween so what does that mean?’ was ‘well loads of girls gonna dress like sluts and come round my door asking for candy!’ which left myself and my sister laughing with both confusion and shock especially when the lady radio presenter responded with ‘yes but what else!’ as if what he’d just said wasn’t both offensive and bewildering.
Anyway, not even the ridiculous radio or absurdly chunky Dodge Duranga that we were driving could distract us from how relaxed and beautiful a place Boston is. Everyone seemed so outdoorsy and everywhere we looked was full of trees and squirrels. People were running, families were picnicking, Uni students were Quidditching (YES THAT’S RIGHT) and the autumnal trees were gently swaying in the breeze. It all sounds very romantic and to be honest, radio and car aside, it was. Boston is beautiful and I was tremendously excited to visit the next day.