Spontaneity and Boston
Story and photos by Reyn Smith and Jack Sloan
Edited by Mia Madonna
Saturday - 11:15 a.m.
The comically ‘brat’ colored green Flix-bus pulled into the 31st Street Station right on time. We boarded our neon green chariot with only the clothes on our backs and one shared rucksack. With no planning in advance, eager to see where the weekend took us.
3:40 p.m.
Last stop: Boston. After four hours of New England highways, we’d reached our destination. Exiting Boston South Station, we encountered Chinatown, a colorful collection of restaurants, street markets, music, and public art. Navigating unfamiliar streets, we reached the famed Boston Commons and meandered through the fall foliage. The average outfit of a Bostonian seemed to be a college hoodie and a beanie. Flags flew from buildings spelling out ‘Emerson College’ and ‘Boston University’—Boston is truly a college town at heart.
4:30 p.m.
We’re lost in the winding cobblestones of Beacon Hill, trying to find the picturesque Acorn Street. This is one of the last places in America that hasn’t built over its colonial bones. The streets are loose stones, the buildings are brick and narrow, and red and yellow leaves have become autumnal shingles on the historic rooftops. The only signifiers of modernity are Boston's chiquest accessories: a piping hot Chai tea and an obscure novel. We sought out to find both.
On the hunt for Acorn street.
5:00 p.m.
A toy train chugs through gaps in the bookshelves, navigating through Beacon Hill Books’ four story tower of knowledge. We bought one book on romantic poetry, and one on New England witchcraft. Cross the street, and a cafe you shall find. Tatte, a Boston classic, seemed to be on every street corner. While waiting for our drinks, we got to talking to a real life Harvard Professor!
6:00 p.m.
We’re sitting on a dock in the Charles River Park, wondering where the ducks go in the winter, when we get a call from our friend Victoria at Tufts. She half-sarcastically invites us to attend her sorority’s dance show.
7:00 p.m.
Where the hell are we? The sun has set, and after taking the T-train, we’ve arrived at the Tufts campus, to attend a sorority fundraising dance event. We learn that the fundraiser was for someone who choked on a hot dog. Our giant travel bag, stuffed with peanut butter, jelly, and tortillas is hidden under our chairs. We’re wearing leather jackets and overalls in a sea of wife beaters. The Greeks begin to take the stage in throes, performing audacious dances. Is this normal for Boston schools? For better or worse, I didn’t manage to get any photos of this spectacle.
8:00 p.m.
After the final dance we reunite with our old friend Victoria, and go to one of three local restaurants in the tiny suburb of Medford. We interrogate her about the Tufts lifestyle, and she shows us around the quiet campus, somehow knowing the entire personal life of everyone we encounter. Why are there no barriers or guards around the school buildings? Things like these are confusing for us city dwellers…
9:00 p.m.
Now feeling as though it had been dark for ages, we set out for our next destination. Our Uber driver was very adamant that the can he was drinking from was NOT beer, and complained about how no one uses their blinkers in Boston. In fact, his Youtube channel is dedicated to blinker use.
11:00 p.m.
At a friend of a friend’s apartment, we were treated with utmost hospitality in offering us a place to sleep. We’d previously had no idea where we would spend that night, and our first candidate was a willow tree we’d seen earlier. In a time crunch to attend a Boston Conservatory Halloween party, we threw together some makeshift costumes, and were shocked by everyone’s dedication to the theme. We looked out over the city, feeling victorious and cold. Immensely grateful we’d be on an air mattress and not tree roots, we slept like royalty that night.
Us and Liana, our incredible host.
Sunday - 8:00 a.m.
We returned to Tatte early, to surprise our hosts with a coffee as a thanks for housing us. For breakfast we ate PB&J tortillas cooked on the stove, and sadly said our goodbyes, setting off to the Museum of Fine Arts of Boston, per their recommendation.
The culinary arts.
9:30 a.m.
The MFA only lets Boston students in for free, but we decided to take our chances. Luckily our charming smirks got us right past the guards, and there we were in front of an incredible collection of Dalis and Monets. We made it out with some gorgeous postcards before Ubering to Harvard for our next meet-up.
11:00 a.m.
The Uber proves to be great Spanish practice—being that our driver was from the Dominican Republic. The first thing I spotted upon arriving at Harvard was, strangely, a Joe’s pizza. Tempting. We met up with our good friend Emma, and got a tour of the campus—fighting the urge not to submit transfer applications because the campus is truly beautiful. She leaves us with full plates of food in one of the Harvard dining halls, and we pretend that we’re real big time Harvard students while we eat for a little while.
The Harvard Quad
12:00 p.m.
Our friend Victoria (yes, the one from earlier), then picks us up in her car (who has a car in college?!) at Joe’s. We drive over to the splendid Isabella Gardener museum, and take in the sights. I use the last exposures on my roll of film taking photos of the flowers in the magical indoor garden.
3:00 p.m.
After a brief but unforgettable weekend of seeing Boston’s museums, schools, and characters, we finally embark on our chariot (the Flixbus) to bring us homeward (31st Street). We greeted the same bus driver from the day before, and were off. After being lulled into an intense slumber on the drive home, we awoke in midtown and it was as if nothing ever happened.
