NYC Bus- "Dra-mom-a"

Boston to NYC
9:25am: Kiss my husband and daughter goodbye in front of train station

9:26am: Daughter reaches out her arms for me from car seat as they drive away- Heart ripped from chest.

9:45am: Stand 1st in line to board the China Bus for first dibs on seating.

9:55am: Tall brunette college student asks to sit next to me. Thank goodness it’s her and not that guy 3 rows ahead talking to him self.

10:52am: Dabble a bit of writing in my journal.
10:54am: Stop because the girl sitting next to me is trying to read it.

Noon: Wake up from the road-raging Chinese bus driver laying into the horn while swerving through traffic.

12:15pm: Repeat

12:45pm: Starving. Must pee really bad, but will wait for pit stop.

1:30pm: Given up all hope for a pit stop. Bladder about to explode. Stomach self-digesting

2pm: Arrive in NY Chinatown. Bolt off bus. Find out nearest train station to friend’s apartment is 5 blocks away.

NYC to Boston
2pm: Say goodbye to friend and hail a cab.

2:15pm: Wonder why the cabby is taking the wrong streets to Chinatown.
2:17pm: Sit in traffic. Watch the meter tick higher and higher. Understand why we’re taking the long route.

2:25pm: Hand the driver $12 for what should have been a $6 cab ride and slam the door.

2:30pm: 3rd to last to board China bus.

2:31pm: Grab only vacant seat near window. Pray someone doesn’t sit next to me so I can sprawl out.

2:32pm: Teenage girl asks “do you think you can sit next to someone so that me and my daddy can sit together?” (“Daddy”, how old are we?). < Sigh> “Fine!”

2:33pm: “Move to the only vacant seat, right next to a guy wearing a yarmulke.

2:34pm: Guy wastes no time initiating conversation. Asks all sorts of questions with big flirty smile. Lose any hope for napping.

2:45pm: More questions. Try to get a word in edgewise to mention my HUSBAND and DAUGHTER.

2:53pm: Guy confesses his strong desire to find a wife. Wish I was anywhere but here.

2:55pm: Find out that I was just hit on by a RABBI. Lose all hope for religion. Quickly pull out a picture of my daughter on her first birthday.

2:57pm: Guy sits back, closes his eyes to sleep - Hallelujah!


Summation:
- Great time in NYC with old friend as always.
- Bus ride to NY- quick, precarious, physically uncomfortable.
- Ride back home- Long, disheartening, quite uncomfortable all around.

Conclusion:
- Leaving my husband and baby girl for a 24 hour sample of the city life- heart-wrenching at first, but sooo worth the mani & pedi and full day of no tantrums.

- When recapping for my husband, I’ll blame the shameless hit on by a rabbi on my small wedding ring size. “People must not be able to see it”. Must address immediately.

A Day In Maine

For my husbands Birthday weekend, we decided to embark on yet another one of my signature “stealth-weekend-getaways” that usually encompasses approximately 24 hours in another city. Completely blank on ideas on where to go, I somehow managed to stumble upon $20 Amtrak tickets to Maine. You can hardly get half a tank of gas for that these days.

I had no idea what to expect on our first journey to Portland, Maine. In a nutshell, it was “nice”. After visiting NYC several times in the past few months, and now living near Boston, I had become remiss of what land was like when left completely untouched.

As I watched the landscape pass from our coach-car window, the endless view of greenery and blue sky instilled a sense of peace that I can hardly describe in text; miles and miles without a hint of concrete, a car, street light, or human life. Only every so often were there were subtle marks of suburban life- a house here and there, t-shirts flapping on a clothesline, a swimming pool (geez, I hope it’s heated). Just tiny flickers of the rural lives tucked away in the pockets of Maine.

In true form, us Corredera’s took on the streets of this foreign town (at least to us) with no car or any real plans. Figuring out the city bus system and how to get around with a toddler (and no car seat) was quite the challenge, but we were up for it. Luckily, our bus driver was incredibly kind and guided us well in our unmapped quest.

Within our 24 hour stint, we managed to steer through Portland’s old and uneven cobblestone streets, and bask in the salty air along the harbor. The abundant art inspired locals were reminiscent of the artsy San Franciscans we had once visited; with their dark, streaky-dyed hair lying over their fair skin that must have been hidden from the sun all winter; often times carrying a sketchbook or a guitar. They all seemed to walk with a heavier step than what I am accustomed to. Possibly because of the long, wintry lifestyle they must endure. Speaking of which, we were clearly “the visitors”; the only family walking down the streets wearing sweaters, much less sleeves. I guess 45 degrees and sun, equals shorts and tanks tops here. Pay no mind to us wussy southern Californians running for cover from the wind.

Nonetheless, the trip was as success; just a little sample of another town; one more coastal place where seagulls’ frolic and confetti the sky; where caws evoke blissful memories from the past. A place where the warm orange and powdery blue skies blanket the town below while the sun tucks itself away at the close of another day.