Road Tripping: Part 2
After an absurdly ambitious first day, the Lau family awoke on the second morning of our Epic Family Road Trip™️ in sleepy Stamford, Connecticut. In what would turn out to be a theme of the trip, this was one of the better hotels we stayed in, and we were there for less than a day.
I took full advantage the high-end fitness center, then gathered the brood for the complimentary hot breakfast. After cleaning up and repacking, we loaded the van and set off. The next few hours took us across Connecticut, through Rhode Island, and into Massachusetts — Destination: Boston.
We reached the outskirts of Beantown around 1PM — a slowly gentrifying area dubbed Somerville. It had a some fancy shops and a cluster of trendy restaurants, but also some dilapidated husks of big-box stores and several partially-built parking garages. Tucked behind a crumbling warehouse and a construction site was our lackluster hotel for the next few nights.
We arrived in the early afternoon, and we were able to check in right away. We unloaded some luggage, freshened up, and then decided to go explore the city. We took the metro to a stop near the Boston Commons, where we decided to grab a late lunch at this weird subterranean food court. This place had a little bit of everything: burgers, pizza, soul food, all the kinds of Asian. We went with tacos and smoothies, which were perfectly tolerable.
After that, we set off to take The Freedom Trail Tour. We were able to catch the last one of the day at 2PM. We nabbed a few souvenirs in the gift shop before meeting our tour guide outside. Clad in the expected saggy brown pants, poofy pirate shirt, and tricorn hat, he started off explaining that most tour guides are either history professors or actors. "Guess which one I am?" he asked with a comical flourish. As an actor, he offered to either give us the tour as himself or in-character. We all, obviously, voted for the latter.
So, he twirled around and then presented himself, in a Cockney accent, as Daniel Merrick, a blacksmith who did in fact live in Boston during the Revolution. As we walked, he spoke of historic spots as if they were still there, then followed it up with modern updates, toggling between the British accent and his own with no real synchronicity between the time periods. He was very entertaining and informative, though, sharing facts about major landmarks like Beacon Hill, as well as obscure trivia like where the gallows once were (a spot currently occupied by a playground).
The whole tour took about ninety minutes, but only involved a mile of walking, from the Capitol building, through some cemeteries, to Faneuil Hall and the site of the Boston Massacre. We ended right near Quincy Market. It was a little too early for dinner, so I suggested walking a little more to the famous Old North Church. The family agreed to the idea with gusto.
Predictably though, we only made it a few blocks before they started complaining — it's too far, this is boring, I just wanna eat! So much for being America's Walking City. To be fair, it was a little farther than I expected; I often underestimate distances on foot, partly because I just love walking around cities and don't mind too much how far I have to hoof it. I sent Liz and the girls back the way we came while I continued solo, snapping my obligatory "I was there" photos of the church and Paul Revere on horseback. I then hustled back, catching up with them just as they reached Quincy Market.
It was close to five by that point, so we browsed the stalls for our dinner options. I was on high alert for Boston Cream Pie because apparently most places don't serve it, even though it obviously has local origins. I found a frou-frou bakery touting the best in the city, so I ordered one while I wanted for my meal at the Thai stand nearby. What I received was this little deconstructed pastry — a cake disc, some yellowy pudding, a tuft of whipped cream, and some artful chocolate drizzle. It was okay, but not what I was hoping for. Fortunately, our actual meals (including my tofu bowl) were quite good.
After we all ate, we stepped outside, just as a — you guessed it — street performer started his show. My family and I elbowed our way to the front so we could watch a paunchy, fifty-something guy juggle chainsaws and machetes. I think he also had a grenade mixed in there. He was a Canadian fellow, so he generally had an affable demeanor, connecting well with the volunteers and trusting children to hold his wallet or his phone while he performed.
It was a bit off-putting, therefore, when he scolded us for laughing at him after he took his shirt off for the finale. I mean, he had this big, droopy gut and his belly button protruded, so it was an unusual sight. Still, he gave us the most withering glare. "This," he declared, raising his scruffy chin, "is what a real man looks like. You should be ashamed of yourselves!" He waggled — yes, waggled! — his finger at us. "To act like this in front of your own children! Do you realize what you're teaching them? Do you want them to grow up thinking they need to buy things to be happy?" He lectured us for another couple of minutes like that, then awkwardly transitioned to recruiting a volunteer for his final stunt.
His showstopper was lying on a bed of nails with a person standing on top of him. He originally asked a woman to come up, but she got really nervous when it was time to step on his (very uneven) torso. "I can't just keep laying here," he groaned, already in position on the spikes. "Somebody's gotta stand one me!" So this dude came up who weighed at least 80 pounds more and stepped on the performer's chest and lower abdomen as instructed.
"Hold your applause!" the Canuck said, waving the man off. "Hold your applause!" He then sat up and walked around with his back to us to show the pattern from the nails. It was a cross shape, and several of the indents were bleeding a little bit. A bit nauseated, the crowd clapped half-heartedly, slowly dissipating as he stood alone, hat-in-hand. Our girls reluctantly ventured over to give the man a fiver, visibly less enthused by this public display than by the NYC flip-and-twist crew.
On that sour note, we headed back, passing by a few other street performances as we struggled to find the metro — I'm sorry, the "T" — back to Somerville. From there we went back to the hotel, eager to shower off the residual grime and guilt of our first day in The City of Kind Hearts.
Despite the previous evening, we were eager for our first full day in Boston, which we naturally had all planned out already. After a hearty hotel breakfast, we metro’d downtown for our first scheduled event: The Boston Tea Party Museum.
The whole production started with a woman in colonial garb — white bonnet, striped dress, Pilgrim shoes — shouting from the balcony of the museum to "Come one, come all, to the assembly of concerned citizens! A matter most urgent will be discussed forthwith, and all patriotic souls owe their countrymen their voice!" Or something like that.
After handing over our tickets to a Quaker-Oats-looking guy, we filed into this cramped gathering hall lined with hard-backed pews. As people found their seats, a few more characters went around to set the ambiance. "Oh, you're from Chicago ... is that in the Indian territory? How many days carriage ride did it take to get here?"
They also gave each of us a card describing our role in this performance; most had a picture and short bio of some historic person who lived in Boston back then, just to give us a more immersive mindset. Some cards had dialogue on them, so once the "concerned citizens assembly" began, it turned into an interactive experience. They wisely gave these speaking roles to kids, enabling them to pop out of their seats and make some noise during an otherwise "boring grown-up meeting."
After that skit, we went outside to a boat for the main event. We took a quick tour of the upper and lower decks, laying some more context on us along the way. We then came to the highly anticipated coup de grace — re-enacting the Boston Tea Party! They lined us up along the ship's railing, facing the muddy waters. They gave us a rousing speech about the exploitive British forcing their excess products on us. Then they handed us crates of overpriced tea to hurl into the harbor!
The crates were awfully light though. And they were tethered with cheap red ropes. It turned out they were just
painted styrofoam cubes, which we chucked overboard and then had to hoist back up, dripping with murk. Underwhelmed but too polite to show it, we went through the motions, then trampled across the gangplank back to the dock.
The last part of the experience led us into the back of the museum, where we passed through a few exhibits. These turned out to be pretty impressive, with lots of state-of-the-art special effects. One room had a hologram of two women debating, one in favor of the revolution and the other against it. A second room was lined with portraits, and many of them starting moving and talking a la Harry Potter. Some guy would demand justice for the colonists and another would interrupting with "This was an act of treason!" One wall had a sepia-toned map that shifted into a short film depicting the history of the tea trade, traveling from China and India to England and the New World. It was all fairly cool, but the girls more than got the point by the end of it all.
Once we were done with that, we went back toward the Boston Commons area. The plan was to take a Swan Boat ride in the Boston Public Gardens, but everyone started getting cranky. Farah was hangry. Fiona hated all the walking. Liz had a headache because it had climbed up to the mid-80's by noon. We stopped and debated whether we should just scrap the rest of our plans and go back to the hotel. My legendary persuasive skills once again came through, as I convinced everyone to try a tasty local restaurant to cool our heels and refill our tanks.
I fulfilled my promise in spirit if not exactly to the letter. I ushered everyone into the nearby Beantown Pub, a Yelp-recommended spot offering decent fare and comfy seats. Yeah, the service was slow. Sure, it smelled like stale beer. OK, our arms did stick to the table from the humidity. In my haste to get inside, I landed us in the bar area; the other side was the much nicer, fully air-conditioned restaurant. My bad.
We did, however, have a solid lunch. I got Boston baked beans with brown bread as an appetizer, checking another local must-have off my mental list. When we finally tucked into our burgers, chicken tenders, and fries, I could feel the metaphorical (if not literal) temperature dropping all around me. With happy tummies and rejuvenated legs, we walked over to the Boston Public Garden for the Swan Boat ride. Our good moods lasted roughly halfway through the short circuit around the pond, both girls frowning at ducks and Liz mopping her brow in disgust by the time we returned to shore.
Knowing I'd pushed my luck as far as I could, we made a beeline for the nearest T stop and went back to our hotel. As a peace offering, I treated everyone to cannolis and overstuffed donuts at Mike's Pastries. We took the treats back to our room, scarfed them down, blissfully spiking our glucose levels. This caused Liz to pass out soon after, while the girls were all revved up. I took them to the hotel pool for an hour or so to burn off some of the excess sugar, then we cleaned up and changed for supper.
Liz still wasn't feeling great — her headache had upgraded to a migraine — so I offered to take the girls out to eat and bring back some takeout for her. The three of us walked over to Assembly Row, a shopping area lined with high-end stores and hipster restaurants. They also had a Lego Discovery Center — essentially a Lego store with a few exhibits and a hokey indoor roller coaster. The ride and exhibits were all closed by that point, but the girls had a blast just looking at the different sets. My youngest 3D printed her own custom Lego character as her first souvenir of the trip, and the oldest miraculously didn't beg for a single thing more than two or three times.
Eventually, I had to get some food in all of us once again, so we went outside and perused our options. After the usual indecisiveness, we all agreed to hit up Trader Joe's. Although grocery shopping tends to devolve into a screaming mess when my children come along, they always love a trip through TJs. This is probably because I say yes to everything in that place. Corn dogs? You bet! Stuffed grape leaves? Go for it, girl! A pack of peanut-butter-filled sandwich cookies dipped in chocolate? Why not get two!
I filled our cart with all the novelties the girls could grab, plus some tried-and-true items for Liz and I to feast on back in the room. Even though I got more than just dinner stuff, it ended up being our cheapest meal of the entire trip. Better yet, everybody was happy with their meals! After cleaning up the remnants of our feast, we all got showers, slipped into our PJs, and wrapped up the night by cuddling in bed and singing along to Matilda: The Musical.
And so we ended our second day in The Cradle of Liberty feelin' satisfied, unaware that a higher power would soon upset our temporary peace of mind...