Traveling solo in Boston

I stepped up to the gate and handed the flight attendant my boarding pass. She took it, ripped off the end and handed it back to me. I looked behind me to see my mom waving goodbye and my brother squirming against her grasp. I had flown to see my Nana and Papa in Lehi, Utah countless times before, but this time was different. This time, I would be traveling alone at the young age of eight.

Excitement was soon replaced by anxiety and fear. A flight attendant saw me to my seat. I sat next to a man in his 40s. He had round glasses and a sandy colored beard. He asked me where I was going all by myself, and I told him my nana’s house. He seemed quite engaged, asking me questions and listening intently with a twinkle in his eye.

All the the travelers had finished filing into the plane and began to settle, and we still weren’t moving. Fifteen minutes of nothing went by until the pilot spoke over the intercom, telling us we had a leak in the fuel system and that we needed a patch. It was going to take a half hour, so they offered to let passengers off the plane.

I sat there scared, hoping my mom was still sitting at the gate, ready to stand with me until it was time to go. A few people got up off the plane. The man next to me asked me if I wanted to go get an ice cream. He had said the magic words, the words that disarmed all alarm bells in my head. I nodded and stood up with him. We walked toward the front of the plane and a sharp eyed flight attendant stopped us. She asked me directly where I was going, and the friendly man stood next to me and addressed her saying “i thought I’d take her for some ice cream.”

I looked up at the flight attendant with pleading eyes, the way I would plead my mother to buy that special treat.

“No,” she said, alarmed, but firm. “She has to stay here on the plane. You are not her legal guardian.”

My hopes were dashed. He shrugged and walked off the plane and the flight attendant walked me back to my seat.

A few hours later, I landed in Salt Lake city and ran into the arms of my Nana.

Who knows what could have happened if that flight attendant hadn’t stepped in. I could have been kidnapped or worse. Or maybe he was truly was just a friendly man offering to comfort a little girl who was clearly nervous about flying alone for the first time.

I thought about this story as I got on another flight headed toward Boston. It was my first time traveling for work and my first time exploring a city on my own.

Would I be able to get around on my own without Jeremy’s help? Who would I meet? Would anyone hassle me in the street? Would I look like a prime target?

These were the questions circling around in my head in the days leading up to my trip.

When I finally landed in Boston, that same cocktail of fear and excitement tossed around in my belly. I walked off the plane to a wall of muggy humidity. I took a taxi to my airbnb, a drab little apartment above an auto body shop off a main thoroughfare. I chose it because it was close enough for me to walk several blocks through Cambridge to my office, but it was also right next to a train line to get me into Boston after work.

My first day, I explored Chelsea Market

Chelsea Market

I don’t know what possessed me to step inside this small store near Chelsea Market. I just had strange feeling pulling me there, like a ringing in the ears. The store was empty, that kind of empty that makes you feel intense pressure to buy something just to be there. but it had the kind of knickknacks that I like, so I stayed, scanning everything in sight for the perfect bauble to bring home. Everywhere, jewelry made out of old keys and coins, mismatched rugs, and hipster books about Boston. It was a hodgepodge of things, displayed on donated furniture. I loved it.

What kind of unique treasure could I find here??

I was nearly about to leave empty handed when i came across this dish of book pins. The cashier eyed me and decided to interject:

"Do you have any questions?" She asked.

"No, I was just admiring the pins. They look really cool."

"I made them," She smiled. “I rescue old books from the library that are going to be thrown out and i repurpose the pages into pins.

"No way!" I said. I picked one up and put it on the counter. "I have to have one now"

"You know, If you’re interested, i have some other items.” She pulled out a large ziplock bag full of 2 inch round buttons, keychains, and bottle openers.

I dug through the bag and noticed quite a few were of nude women.

"I see why you keep these ones behind the counter" I chuckled.

"A lot of these came from old comic books or vintage pornography magazines," she said matter of factly.

I picked up a figure of a nude woman with a full bust and placed it next to my other pin, knowing my dad would get a kick out of the pin and the story behind it.

She rang me up and wished me well.

A day later, I wandered through a different area and discovered this chocolate shop. When I walked in, a woman greeted me, eyeing the camera around my neck. I complimented her on her shop and asked if i could take pictures. She was all too delighted. I immediately walked over to the case of chocolates, looking for unique flavors and old favorites. I was surprised to see how beautiful and colorful some of them were.

Behind me, were a series of decorative boxes adorned with vintage art. I wasn’t sure what I was more excited for, the chocolate or the decorative box!

Walking around town

The last person I met was a man who came out of a building I was trying to photograph. The building was on a corner and had many floors of arched windows. At the top, were several points with crosses, creating a sort of crown around the top of the building. He approached me from across the street and offered to tell me about the building’s history. It had been an old Grain Exchange building in the late 1800’s. He said that inside at the top was all original and offered to take me up to see.

I would have really liked to go and get to know him, but being a solo traveler and a woman, I knew it was better safe than sorry, so I politely declined.

I’m not sure if it was the camera around my neck, or the fact that I was a solo traveler and a short non-intimidating woman, but I was pleasantly surprised at how many Bostonians struck up a conversation with me and offered me information. I found them both aggressively kind and a wee bit nosey, but I was glad for it, having spoken with them and gotten to see a small glimpse into their lives and the place they call home.