Ten things I hate about Boston

Since the start of the new year I’ve been coming out to Boston almost weekly to work with a client. They’re not in the city, per se, so it may be a bit unfair to title this “…about Boston” but since we’re in the Boston burbs, and since I fly into Logan airport, Boston must bear my ire.

Item #10: Street Signs, Part 1. The streets here suck on many, many levels. For one, they have no fucking signs. Seriously. By some grand design there are no signs to tell you what street you are on – and not all the cross streets have signs either. So if you are from here, and you know where you are and where you are going (by rote experience I imagine) then I guess it will work fine for you. For anyone else, however, this system is complete ass.

Item #9: Street Signs, Part 2. I’m not talking about names – I’m taking about the signs that tell you about conditions. The one I have noticed on this trip is: “Thickly Settled” – which a quick Google search tells me is used to indicate a highly dense population/neighborhood, and therefore speeds over 30 MPH are very bad. Why not just put the normal speeding signs with warnings for high fines? Because seriously, only someone from here is going to know wtf “Thickly Settled” means.

Item #8: Roundabouts. Let me tell you the joy of having any GPS system try to explain to you which point of the circle you are entering you need to exit. This is exacerbated when the roundabout is followed immediately by another roundabout. One of my most cringe-worthy experiences driving here is hearing the GPS say: “Proceed through the first roundabout, then take the second exit and the second roundabout, and exit the next roundabout immediately.” Were the street planners stoned when they made these streets? These people need to burn in hell. Starting now.

Item #7: Road conditions. I have lived in big and small cities across the land. I have traveled far and wide. These are easily the worst streets I have seen north of the Mexico border. Potholes you could drive a Buick through – lanes and diverge and merge without signs or warnings. No drainage for rain, snow, and other nasty sludge. There is no suspension gentle enough to make you think the roads here are good.

Item #6: The snooty.

I was talking to someone early in my travels here who was telling me how her whole family was from here, and they all went to Harvard, because it was “the local college”. As if. As if it was like some community college and they all waltzed in with no problem. Maybe they did waltz in. Maybe they bought their way in. Maybe they are old money. I don’t really give a fuck. I will tell you that many, many people try to get into Harvard, from MA and other places and don’t get in – and it has nothing to do with it being their “local school”. Put. The. Attitude. Away. Kudos on the Harvard degree sister, but don’t act like everyone just walks in.

Item #5: The accent.

No – I am not about to bash the southie accent. What bothers me is that most of the people here have no accent – as if it is some mythical thing. And then, they slip into it when they are tired or stressed. Or you meet someone who has such a thick accent that you can’t even comprehend them. Where is the charming accent everyone used in The Departed? Some of those people were from here, they used their real accents. Where are those people and their accents? They don’t exist. It’s either these thick, impenetrable accents, or people who you think aren’t even from here, until they tell you how they all went to Harvard because it was the only local school and therefore their only option.

Item #4: The weather.

When I moved to Northern VA I gave up good weather. But coming up here is like going to the god-dammed North Pole. When it is 50 degrees in DC it is 35 here. When it is 35 in DC I am a god-dammed frozen icicle here.

Item #3: The traffic.

I once stayed at a hotel that was 5 miles from the office. It took me 45 minutes to get there. Every. Fucking. Day. Not a fluke – that’s what the traffic was like. You need to find where the weird patterns are and avoid them. This time I am staying 7 miles away and it takes 20 minutes to get there.

Item #2: The cost of food.

Hotel food is insanely expensive – so I’m not even going there. But seriously, I go out for dinner because I am on the road and every item that is worth eating is expensive as hell. By that I mean, it isn’t an iceberg lettuce salad or a hamburger. You can’t eat burgers every night after you hit 30 years old – know why? It’s called your metabolism, your heart, your cholesterol, your blood pressure, your doctor’s orders, and the fact that you want to live to 40. So I go out, try to get fish (healthy), or find something light, and you’re looking at $25-30 pre-tax, tip, and drink. Seriously. $30. Insanity.

Item #1: The airport.

I cannot say this enough: Fuck Logan Airport. Fuck it. I. FUCKING. HATE. LOGAN. AIRPORT. 95% of the time I get delayed leaving Logan. But even worse than that are their asinine security lines. The security lines resemble the roads here – no clear delineations, and at one point they merge two into one – without any warning. One occasion I had this misfortune of being in a lane that was forced to merge, then diverge, then remerge. It took me almost an hour to get through security – at 7 AM! I’ve never seen such horribly organized security lanes. The guys who check your IDs are great – by the way – nice guys. Most of the folks are fine. There are two women here that fry my ass though. They walk up and down this tight little area where people are struggling to get their items into the bins to go through the x-ray machine, and they scream: “DO NOT PUT YOUR SHOES IN THE BINS! YOUR SHOES GO ON THE BELT! MAKE SURE YOU PUT YOUR LIQUIDS IN A BIN! IF YOU DO NOT PUT YOUR LIQUIDS IN A BIN AND THEY ARE SPOTTED ON THE X-RAY, THEY WILL BE CONFISCATED! DO NOT PUT YOUR SHOES IN THE BINS!” and then they will run up to specific people and scream “SIR I SAID ‘DO NOT PUT YOUR SHOES IN THE BINS!’ THESE ARE NEW BINS AND YOU ARE MAKING THEM DIRTY!” And almost every time the offender responds with – “I was just trying to move my items along the table – I didn’t put my shoes in the bins…” and then they will scream, “SIR, YOU WERE ABOUT TO PLACE YOUR SHOES IN THE BIN! DO NOT PLACE YOUR SHOES IN THE BIN!” It’s horrific to listen to when you stand in those insane lines. But as bad as I thought it was, I never realized how bad it is for the employees, until last week when the ID checker (who was very nice, jovial, and otherwise cheery) said to me, “Oh my god I wish she would just stop that. Do me a favor, roll your eyes at her and glare at her when you get up there – she hates that.” And then he laughed and shook his head and mumbled something about how many more years he had until retirement.

And really, the shoes in the bins thing is stupid – because other airports make you put them in the bins. So if you are one of the odd airports, don’t expect people to get why you are insane about your bins. No one cares that your bins are new.

And stop yelling. What, are you New Yorkers?

Most Importantly: It isn’t home.

Isn’t that really all that matters?