Our last morning in Boston held the mission of finding the Paul Revere House before checking out of our apartment. The goal was to leave the apartment by 10:20 or so to give us time to hop on a 20 minute metro ride and get to our bus station by 11:00, from where we would take a four hour GoBus ride to New York City. We figured we’d have plenty of time.
The Paul Revere House was actually only about a hundred yards from the apartment, and it also happened to be closed.
Not being able to go inside the house and having a little time to kill we decided to stop in at Mike’s Pastry (also very close to the apartment in Little Italy) where we paid “six bananas” for two coffees and a massive, gooey blueberry scone.
We sat there for a while and chatted about the short trip thus far, laughing about the crazy wonderfulness of the day before, then settled the bill and exited. It was 10:15. When we got across the street Kevin realized he was missing his gloves so we turned around to retrace our steps and found his gloves underneath the table in the pastry shop. It was 10:20.
At 10:30 we were leaving the apartment loaded down with our backpacks with an estimated seven minute walk to the metro station, but we overshot the metro station and again had to retrace our steps. As we hustled to the subway I was getting concerned about missing our bus. Just as we made it down the stairs in the station we saw a sign for a subway going the right direction arriving in one minute, and when we got on that subway we found out that is was an express line going directly to our destination.
It was 10:57 when we pulled up to our stop, and we needed to find Berth 6 for our bus. We hurried up the stairs then followed a sign up a ramp to the bus depot, keeping up a steady jog and joking about feeling like we were on The Amazing Race (we watched the show the week pre-trip with a mild obsession to get pumped for our upcoming travels).
We saw Berth 6 at the end of the depot and felt satisfied that we had made it. I then had a minor panic attack as I saw a GoBus driving past us and thought despairingly that we had, after all of that, missed the bus. Kevin quickly pointed out that no one was on the bus and it was just circling the depot to get to the stop. Perfectly timed, but a little too close for comfort.
Our bus ride was pretty awesome; the GoBus was extremely comfortable and we drove through a very scenic Connecticut. Though the connection was spotty, the bus even had WiFi. The service was good enough for me to play Duolingo though, so I was happy.
The traffic thickened as we approached the city and could see the magnificent skyline. We got onto Manhattan and felt home free stopped at a red light with only five more miles to reach the bus station. And then the light turned green. The bus did not and would not move. It broke down in the middle of a busy Manhattan street a mere five minutes away from our final destination. At that point we were both happy it had made it that far. The driver ended up blockading the street briefly after about 15 minutes to let everyone off the bus and we got in touch with our New York hostess who was supposed to meet us at the bus station to exchange keys.
As it turned out, our bus broke down at a spot much closer to her workplace than the station and we were able to walk a short three blocks to meet her. She then directed us to a subway tunnel on that very street that took us four blocks away from the apartment, making the homestretch a breeze. So over all, the bus breakdown was a net positive for convenience.
When I was little on family vacations and would get restless, my mom used to always say that “getting there was half the adventure.” I can genuinely say that saying applies quite appropriately to our first trip to New York!