All these years as a Yankees fan I never made the trip to historic Fenway Park to watch a game against their most notorious rival the Boston Red Sox. At the beginning of the baseball season I aimed at finally making my way up to Fenway, but as the months rolled along, one reason after another I ended up not going. While watching a game recently and hearing one of the broadcast announcers mention that the Yankees were making their final trip up there of the season, it clicked in my head it was either going to be this time or I was going to have to wait till next year. The good thing about the timing of it was that with no hopes of making the 2012 MLB playoffs for the Red Sox, the ticket prices dropped significantly, and where normally a Red Sox/Yankee ticket can go up towards $150 for the seat I had, I only paid $28 on Stubhub.
Normally when going on a road trip to follow the Yankees I would like to see two to three games, but for various reasons I was only looking to go for one game, and it would be the third game of the series in which each team won one. I looked at prices for Amtrak and Greyhound to Boston; Amtrak was out of the question with the fare and the time of arrival, and the Greyhound was also out due to the fact I would have to stay overnight and spend a night there. There weren't many cheap hotel or motel options in the area, and I wasn't looking to add two hundred dollars to the trip, so I came to the conclusion I should drive up there since its only a three and a half our trip, and then drive back down right after the game. In the scenario I would get tired driving home, I could always pull over to one of the numerous hotels on the side of the highway which would likely be significantly less expensive then those in Boston. The game was scheduled for 7pm, but I wanted to get up there much sooner to check out some of the city, if possible. I had only been to Boston one time previously, it was actually on election day 2008 when Barack Obama became the 44th President of the United States and I was up there for a couple of business meetings, which means I didn't have any time for sightseeing.
After filling up the gas tank I was on the road a few minutes after 10am. My itinerary would start on the I-95 N, then to I-91N, then the CT-15 N, one more exit to the I-84 E, and finally the I-90 E that leads into Boston. I only had to make two stops at rest areas, one in Connecticut and another once I crossed over into Massachusetts. The Massachusetts one was dominated by the McDonald's franchise and proudly displayed their numerous other rest stop locations on a state map (for those motorists who need a McDonald's product each time they take a break from driving). In all the drive up was very smooth and I didn't encounter any traffic at all, which is a rarity when any driving plans include the I-95 N. I arrived in Boston around 1:20pm and what I wanted to do is at least drive by Fenway Park so I could get an idea where it was in relation to the rest of the city. This would give me an idea how much time I had to work with to see other things before I had to get to the ballpark. To the Boston roadway's credit, there was a sign mentioning which exit to get off to get to Fenway Park (which happen to be the same exit my Google directions told me to get off at), then another sign for it once I was off the highway, but then, nothing. No sign or any roadside indication with an arrow of where it's located. Back in 2008, I remember being on a highway and seeing part of the ballpark, so I figured I was probably not far away, where the place was. With that in mind, I gave up looking for Fenway Park since I felt I was close, and decided to find a place to park and check out some of Boston.
I went to an area called Fenway (hoping Fenway Park would not be too far away) and found a public parking lot that charged me twenty bucks for two hours. Like most old cities, cranes where all over place doing repairs to old building that are probably about a hundred years old. Since it was still around lunch time I walked around in search of a nice place to eat. One place that stood out was called Legal Sea Foods. I'm not sure what would constitute as illegal seafood, I felt burdened to find out what Legal Sea Foods was. The restaurant was spacious and clean, but not too upper-crust about itself. I was by myself so I just sat up at the bar. The bathroom had a very original layout with it's circular shape in which you wash your hands in the middle of the room. According to my napkin, the reason seafood would be illegal is if it isn't fresh. I selected the Louisiana Gumbo soup which was supposed to include a side, but the bartender didn't ask, and I really didn't make a thing out of it, so I didn't get a one. I had a pair of oysters as an appetizer, one of them from Cape Cod, to go with a tall glass of Sam Adams, a Boston lager. The soup was very spicy, but enjoyable, and had six nice pieces of shrimp. When the bartender took away my empty bowl of soup and some of the utensils, I noticed she left one of the folks behinds, and I knew what that meant. She asked if I had any interest in seeing the dessert menu, and then an old lady a few stools away from me, who seemed like a regular based on her familiar chit-chat with the bartender, chimed in and said the chocolate cake was fantastic. With the folk purposely left behind and the friendly old lady putting in her two cents, I was being hustled into picking something from the dessert menu. Despite the old lady's recommendation, and the temptation of cheesecake, I went with key lime pie. It's a mousse served in a pie crust with whipped creme on top and a tart raspberry sauce on the side.
Before going to Legal Sea Foods, I saw a rather large park a couple of blocks away, so once I was done eating and now needing to burn off the calories from the key lime pie, I headed over to take a nice long walk in the park. It turns out the park is called the Boston Common, located on the corner of Boylston and Arlington Streets, and its the Boston version of New York's Central Park. I was immediately drawn to the ducks who were not camera shy at all and had no problems with people getting close to them. Some of them hung out by the water, some swam, and some where sleeping on the grass (like the humans). I was surprised to see a gigantic frog in the pond as well, which also wasn't very skittish at the sight of a camera. Although the Boston Common isn't nearly as big as Central Park, its probably more colorful with the type of plants they had, and the hedging and landscaping of the various gardens was top notch. The stars of the show where the two white swans that relaxed by the side of the pond. As soon as another swan-admirer was done checking them out, I was able to go to the pond's edge and have some fun with them as well. I would've liked to stay longer, but my parking was about to run out, so unfortunately I had to leave the ducks and swans behind. I took a brief stroll down Newbury St., which was the Boston version of New York's 5th Ave with it's row of luxurious designer clothing stores. A church on the way there was advertising a blessing of the animals ceremony with a zebra on the billboard. That would've been interesting to see, especially if lions and tigers were involved too, but it was scheduled for a different day.
When I got back to the parking lot the attendant was fast asleep in his chair. Another gentleman was there as well when I arrived and we both looked at each other in asking who is going to be the one to wake him up. I invited the other guy to do it and was able to get my own car once it was my turn. It was about 4pm by this time and still not sure where Fenway Park was, I wanted to drive over there anyways, even if I was hours early for the game. I found an entrance to the I-90 W a few blocks away and once I was on it, a few minutes later I saw Fenway Park just as I had seen it back in 2008 when on that same highway. Naturally there was no exit close to the ballpark(because that actually might make sense), so I ended up driving for a few more minutes, having to pay a $1.25 toll to leave Boston, then after finding a way to turn around to the other side of the highway, having to pay another $1.25 to get back into Boston. Again, without any clear signs where this place is once you're off the highway, I used a mental map in my mind based on where I saw the ballpark from the highway, and took local streets in hoping I would come upon the destination. I'm driving and driving and driving, and seeing no indication I was heading the right direction. A half-hour had passed by and I was getting a feeling perhaps I'll never get to this game. I found myself at an intersection in front of a hospital, and with the car stuck in afternoon rush hour traffic, I was able to ask a construction worker crossing the street for directions, and in a thick Boston accent he pointed me in the right direction. My mental map was only about five minutes off to where the actual location of Fenway Park was. Parking was also an issue there, with most parking lots charging forty dollars. There was one lot charging thirty dollars that I passed and didn't feel like going back around to, so I settled upon one charging thirty-five dollars. The parking was on the roof and I was so early I was just the second car parked up there. Once I was out of my car I was able to see over the other stores and buildings and see Fenway Park for the first time (not passing in a car).
It was a quick five minute walk from the parking lot to Fenway Park and my dark blue Yankee shirt stood out amongst the sea of red Red Sox gear. There were plenty of other Yankee fans there was well, but despite their team in last place in the AL East, many Red Sox still were heading to the game to root against their hated rival. The rivalry must have cooled off a little as I nor any other Yankee fans had any harassment of any sort. They don't let fans into the ballpark until 5:30pm, unless you have a special "Red Sox Nation" pass, so I had time to walk around the historic ballpark that was built back in 1912. The official radio station of the Red Sox, WEEI, had a promotional van outside and even a room inside Fenway Park itself where it appears they do talk shows from. Besides the Green Monster left field wall of Fenway Park, another infamous image of the park is the giant Citgo sign seen right behind the large wall. From seeing it on TV one gets the image the sign is right across the street, but actually its a couple of blocks away, but the sign is so big it looks closer. In order to get to it, I had to take an overpass which crosses the I-90 (that I would go nuts looking for hours later), and learned from a highway billboard ad that there has been 5,448 kids killed by guns since the 2010 elections. I walked around the tiny park about two times until it became 5:30pm and I was able to go in. After checking out the bathroom, which didn't contain a long urinal sink that everyone disgustingly urinates into at once like they have at historic Wrigley Field, I went over to a concession stand to have a famous Fenway Frank (hotdog) and lemonade to go with it. When I got to my seating area out in right field behind the bullpens, the Yankees were still taking batting practice. Nick Swisher was in right field, flagging fly balls and interacting with onlookers. One paralyzed Yankee fan next to me was in a motor cart and yelled out to Swisher as he appeared to be a regular in the right field bleachers at Yankee Stadium that Swisher recognized and threw a baseball to. When it was Swisher's turn to hit, Yankee reliever Joba Chamberlain took his place, and soon after the Yankee starter for the night, Phil Hughes, was out in right field getting his stretching done before warming up for the game.
More and more fans poured in once it got close to 7pm, and I was happy to see the sun was going down, which was near-blinding me in right field when I first arrived. Comic and TV sitcom legend Bill Cobsy threw out the honorary first pitch to my surprise, and it was game time. Usually Red Sox/Yankee games go on for about four hours, sometimes longer, especially in Fenway Park with its bizarre field dimensions and the Green Monster, plus the Pesky Pole as well in right. Instead, the game was pitching-dominated, low scoring, and only took a little over three hours to complete (which is almost a miracle). The Yankees won the game by the score of 2-0 and it gave them the series win. The crowd was quite mellow, likely a result of the Red Sox not having a good season at all, and the tense moments of the game were far and few. The only real drama during the game was in the sky when it looked like two airplanes were about to collide with eachother. Having the Yankees win made me feel the drive home would be much easier, and since I didn't feel tired, I put any thoughts of a hotel stay aside and planned to make the late-night drive home. I walked back to the parking garage after the game, got into my car, and saw it was about 10:30pm. The traffic outside the garage was so bad on the streets, bumper to bumper, that I wasn't physically outside of the garage until about 10:50pm, and it took about another ten minutes to get a few blocks away from the madness. The directions called for me to take the I-90 W, located right near Fenway Park with the 5,448 kids killed sign and all, the only challenge is there are no actual signs to point you there. Using the mental map in my head, I got myself there several times, but saw no entrance to get onto the highway. To get on a Boston highway, usually you have to get on some "drive" or service road that leads you to it, and worst of all there's no road signs that tell you anything.
My first detour took me to some horse stable area that might've more intriguing to see had it not be 11:20pm at night. Then another roll of the dice had me going nowhere on Route 8 W that prompted me to turn around and try to re-trance my steps. The annoying part is that I knew exactly where the highway is located, but the rocket scientists who plan the city's roadways have no entrances nor signs indicating where one might find one of these treasured paths from the Fenway Park area to the I-90. Hours earlier in the day I was on the I-90 after I had left the Boston Common, but that meant I would have to re-trace my steps from that afternoon to get to that point again, and in the darkness of night with my mind in shambles from the endless wrong guesses, this in no way was possible. I got to see alot of Boston that night, but it wasn't in the way I wanted a tour. I noticed my gas was at the half-way mark and I was wasting more and more each time, I pulled into a gas station to fill up and ask somewhere how to get to the invisible I-90. The gas station attendant gave me some directions and I figured I was home free, but then at 12:16am I came to realize these directions were for the I-93. I was so drained and defeated I was almost willing to get on it and see where it would take me, but I thought better of it and headed back towards Fenway Park (for about the eighth time). My last resort was pulling over, finding out what address I was at, and calling my girlfriend to see if she could use Google to direct me to the highway entrance. I would come to discover from where I pulled over, that two lefts and two blocks more would finally-finally-finally get me onto the I-90 W. Only there was there a sign for it, but not like a few blocks away to tell drivers where it is, like most normal civilized places would.
A sense of relief came over me as I ventured onto the highway, for a few minutes I felt it was too good to be true. Then I come upon the toll which I was expecting, but the toll had two sections which wasn't explained clearly by the weather-faded sign. Apparently towards the left cash lanes would lead you onto another highway that I totally didn't want, and the rightward cash lanes would keep you onto the I-90 W. So after paying $1.25, I would find out I was on the wrong highway; this disastrous journey back to New York was never ending. I had to find an exit, turn around, pay $1.25 again to get back into Boston, get on the I-90 W, to only have to pay a third $1.25 installment and make sure I was only the correct highway once the split occurs before the toll booth. The next round of torture occurred when I switched onto the I-84 W; not only was there blinding fog patches, closed-lanes due to construction, parked trucks, but the worst of all was that the exit signs where of no consistent numerical sequence. About the entire stretch of I-84 W had road work being done to it, and cones were set up to only leave one lane open, but at some turns the cones would be gone and it would get confusing which was the good lane. At some points it would seem cars and trucks were in the middle lane, so I would switch to the middle, then it looked like it was left again, so I went back to the left. As one could imagine, there were cones knocked all over the road from other drivers who were also were having issues. What was making it even tougher was there would be these blankets of thick fog that make my car ride seem like a plane flying through the clouds in the sky. As I drove more and more there would be less vehicles on the road, less road work, less cones, to the point where it was just me and the night. The next important step to get to the I-91 S was at exit 86, and when I was on the I-84 W the exit number started in the 70's. I was expecting them to go up to the 80's until I reached 86, but instead they were going down to the 60's. How could this be I thought. Did I miss exit 86 somewhere? Was I going to have to go back to Boston again and start over? Was this nightmare of a night ever going to end?
Seeing the exit numbers were going down and not up, I got off at the next possible exit and found myself at a sign that listed I-84 E to Providence and I-84 W to Hartford. Although I was having my doubts about staying west on this highway, I figured with Hartford in Connecticut (at least halfway towards New York), I might as well go that way and maybe when I get to Hartford they'll be other signs about how to get back to civilization in New York. It was back onto the I-84 W for me and the numbers kept going down, now near the 50's, when all of a sudden I looked up and saw a sign for the I-91 S, which I needed. I couldn't believe my eyes, and needed to see another one to make sure it wasn't a mirage. Not only wasn't it what I needed, but it was indeed located at exit 86. Apparently, after the numbers to down from 70's-60's-50's, it magically turns into 90 and then goes down towards the 80's. I tried not to attempt to figure it out, I just got on the thing once the exit came. I could've stayed on the I-91 S and made the connection to the final step of the I-95 S, but the directions I had said it would be quicker if I detoured off to the CT-15 S. I was very skeptic of getting of the I-91 S and entering the unknown, but technically the directions had been working out to this point, in a weird sort of way, so I took to the two lane CT route and slowly drove on the foggy lonely highway. Once in a while a sports car would flash by at 90 mph, which I thought was insane, but for the most part I was all alone out in the wilderness. A good twenty minutes later I saw the sign for the I-95 S and I couldn't believe this madness was just about to end. I drove slowly to make sure I got on it alright and that there were no more tricks up the highway's sleeve. I was on it indeed; never in my life was I so happy to see the I-95, I would accept all its traffic as long as it would get me to bed. I didn't get home until about 4am and it was one of the longest nights of my life.
Trying to escape Boston that night has caused me to hate the Red Sox even more....
Normally when going on a road trip to follow the Yankees I would like to see two to three games, but for various reasons I was only looking to go for one game, and it would be the third game of the series in which each team won one. I looked at prices for Amtrak and Greyhound to Boston; Amtrak was out of the question with the fare and the time of arrival, and the Greyhound was also out due to the fact I would have to stay overnight and spend a night there. There weren't many cheap hotel or motel options in the area, and I wasn't looking to add two hundred dollars to the trip, so I came to the conclusion I should drive up there since its only a three and a half our trip, and then drive back down right after the game. In the scenario I would get tired driving home, I could always pull over to one of the numerous hotels on the side of the highway which would likely be significantly less expensive then those in Boston. The game was scheduled for 7pm, but I wanted to get up there much sooner to check out some of the city, if possible. I had only been to Boston one time previously, it was actually on election day 2008 when Barack Obama became the 44th President of the United States and I was up there for a couple of business meetings, which means I didn't have any time for sightseeing.
After filling up the gas tank I was on the road a few minutes after 10am. My itinerary would start on the I-95 N, then to I-91N, then the CT-15 N, one more exit to the I-84 E, and finally the I-90 E that leads into Boston. I only had to make two stops at rest areas, one in Connecticut and another once I crossed over into Massachusetts. The Massachusetts one was dominated by the McDonald's franchise and proudly displayed their numerous other rest stop locations on a state map (for those motorists who need a McDonald's product each time they take a break from driving). In all the drive up was very smooth and I didn't encounter any traffic at all, which is a rarity when any driving plans include the I-95 N. I arrived in Boston around 1:20pm and what I wanted to do is at least drive by Fenway Park so I could get an idea where it was in relation to the rest of the city. This would give me an idea how much time I had to work with to see other things before I had to get to the ballpark. To the Boston roadway's credit, there was a sign mentioning which exit to get off to get to Fenway Park (which happen to be the same exit my Google directions told me to get off at), then another sign for it once I was off the highway, but then, nothing. No sign or any roadside indication with an arrow of where it's located. Back in 2008, I remember being on a highway and seeing part of the ballpark, so I figured I was probably not far away, where the place was. With that in mind, I gave up looking for Fenway Park since I felt I was close, and decided to find a place to park and check out some of Boston.
I went to an area called Fenway (hoping Fenway Park would not be too far away) and found a public parking lot that charged me twenty bucks for two hours. Like most old cities, cranes where all over place doing repairs to old building that are probably about a hundred years old. Since it was still around lunch time I walked around in search of a nice place to eat. One place that stood out was called Legal Sea Foods. I'm not sure what would constitute as illegal seafood, I felt burdened to find out what Legal Sea Foods was. The restaurant was spacious and clean, but not too upper-crust about itself. I was by myself so I just sat up at the bar. The bathroom had a very original layout with it's circular shape in which you wash your hands in the middle of the room. According to my napkin, the reason seafood would be illegal is if it isn't fresh. I selected the Louisiana Gumbo soup which was supposed to include a side, but the bartender didn't ask, and I really didn't make a thing out of it, so I didn't get a one. I had a pair of oysters as an appetizer, one of them from Cape Cod, to go with a tall glass of Sam Adams, a Boston lager. The soup was very spicy, but enjoyable, and had six nice pieces of shrimp. When the bartender took away my empty bowl of soup and some of the utensils, I noticed she left one of the folks behinds, and I knew what that meant. She asked if I had any interest in seeing the dessert menu, and then an old lady a few stools away from me, who seemed like a regular based on her familiar chit-chat with the bartender, chimed in and said the chocolate cake was fantastic. With the folk purposely left behind and the friendly old lady putting in her two cents, I was being hustled into picking something from the dessert menu. Despite the old lady's recommendation, and the temptation of cheesecake, I went with key lime pie. It's a mousse served in a pie crust with whipped creme on top and a tart raspberry sauce on the side.
Before going to Legal Sea Foods, I saw a rather large park a couple of blocks away, so once I was done eating and now needing to burn off the calories from the key lime pie, I headed over to take a nice long walk in the park. It turns out the park is called the Boston Common, located on the corner of Boylston and Arlington Streets, and its the Boston version of New York's Central Park. I was immediately drawn to the ducks who were not camera shy at all and had no problems with people getting close to them. Some of them hung out by the water, some swam, and some where sleeping on the grass (like the humans). I was surprised to see a gigantic frog in the pond as well, which also wasn't very skittish at the sight of a camera. Although the Boston Common isn't nearly as big as Central Park, its probably more colorful with the type of plants they had, and the hedging and landscaping of the various gardens was top notch. The stars of the show where the two white swans that relaxed by the side of the pond. As soon as another swan-admirer was done checking them out, I was able to go to the pond's edge and have some fun with them as well. I would've liked to stay longer, but my parking was about to run out, so unfortunately I had to leave the ducks and swans behind. I took a brief stroll down Newbury St., which was the Boston version of New York's 5th Ave with it's row of luxurious designer clothing stores. A church on the way there was advertising a blessing of the animals ceremony with a zebra on the billboard. That would've been interesting to see, especially if lions and tigers were involved too, but it was scheduled for a different day.
When I got back to the parking lot the attendant was fast asleep in his chair. Another gentleman was there as well when I arrived and we both looked at each other in asking who is going to be the one to wake him up. I invited the other guy to do it and was able to get my own car once it was my turn. It was about 4pm by this time and still not sure where Fenway Park was, I wanted to drive over there anyways, even if I was hours early for the game. I found an entrance to the I-90 W a few blocks away and once I was on it, a few minutes later I saw Fenway Park just as I had seen it back in 2008 when on that same highway. Naturally there was no exit close to the ballpark(because that actually might make sense), so I ended up driving for a few more minutes, having to pay a $1.25 toll to leave Boston, then after finding a way to turn around to the other side of the highway, having to pay another $1.25 to get back into Boston. Again, without any clear signs where this place is once you're off the highway, I used a mental map in my mind based on where I saw the ballpark from the highway, and took local streets in hoping I would come upon the destination. I'm driving and driving and driving, and seeing no indication I was heading the right direction. A half-hour had passed by and I was getting a feeling perhaps I'll never get to this game. I found myself at an intersection in front of a hospital, and with the car stuck in afternoon rush hour traffic, I was able to ask a construction worker crossing the street for directions, and in a thick Boston accent he pointed me in the right direction. My mental map was only about five minutes off to where the actual location of Fenway Park was. Parking was also an issue there, with most parking lots charging forty dollars. There was one lot charging thirty dollars that I passed and didn't feel like going back around to, so I settled upon one charging thirty-five dollars. The parking was on the roof and I was so early I was just the second car parked up there. Once I was out of my car I was able to see over the other stores and buildings and see Fenway Park for the first time (not passing in a car).
It was a quick five minute walk from the parking lot to Fenway Park and my dark blue Yankee shirt stood out amongst the sea of red Red Sox gear. There were plenty of other Yankee fans there was well, but despite their team in last place in the AL East, many Red Sox still were heading to the game to root against their hated rival. The rivalry must have cooled off a little as I nor any other Yankee fans had any harassment of any sort. They don't let fans into the ballpark until 5:30pm, unless you have a special "Red Sox Nation" pass, so I had time to walk around the historic ballpark that was built back in 1912. The official radio station of the Red Sox, WEEI, had a promotional van outside and even a room inside Fenway Park itself where it appears they do talk shows from. Besides the Green Monster left field wall of Fenway Park, another infamous image of the park is the giant Citgo sign seen right behind the large wall. From seeing it on TV one gets the image the sign is right across the street, but actually its a couple of blocks away, but the sign is so big it looks closer. In order to get to it, I had to take an overpass which crosses the I-90 (that I would go nuts looking for hours later), and learned from a highway billboard ad that there has been 5,448 kids killed by guns since the 2010 elections. I walked around the tiny park about two times until it became 5:30pm and I was able to go in. After checking out the bathroom, which didn't contain a long urinal sink that everyone disgustingly urinates into at once like they have at historic Wrigley Field, I went over to a concession stand to have a famous Fenway Frank (hotdog) and lemonade to go with it. When I got to my seating area out in right field behind the bullpens, the Yankees were still taking batting practice. Nick Swisher was in right field, flagging fly balls and interacting with onlookers. One paralyzed Yankee fan next to me was in a motor cart and yelled out to Swisher as he appeared to be a regular in the right field bleachers at Yankee Stadium that Swisher recognized and threw a baseball to. When it was Swisher's turn to hit, Yankee reliever Joba Chamberlain took his place, and soon after the Yankee starter for the night, Phil Hughes, was out in right field getting his stretching done before warming up for the game.
More and more fans poured in once it got close to 7pm, and I was happy to see the sun was going down, which was near-blinding me in right field when I first arrived. Comic and TV sitcom legend Bill Cobsy threw out the honorary first pitch to my surprise, and it was game time. Usually Red Sox/Yankee games go on for about four hours, sometimes longer, especially in Fenway Park with its bizarre field dimensions and the Green Monster, plus the Pesky Pole as well in right. Instead, the game was pitching-dominated, low scoring, and only took a little over three hours to complete (which is almost a miracle). The Yankees won the game by the score of 2-0 and it gave them the series win. The crowd was quite mellow, likely a result of the Red Sox not having a good season at all, and the tense moments of the game were far and few. The only real drama during the game was in the sky when it looked like two airplanes were about to collide with eachother. Having the Yankees win made me feel the drive home would be much easier, and since I didn't feel tired, I put any thoughts of a hotel stay aside and planned to make the late-night drive home. I walked back to the parking garage after the game, got into my car, and saw it was about 10:30pm. The traffic outside the garage was so bad on the streets, bumper to bumper, that I wasn't physically outside of the garage until about 10:50pm, and it took about another ten minutes to get a few blocks away from the madness. The directions called for me to take the I-90 W, located right near Fenway Park with the 5,448 kids killed sign and all, the only challenge is there are no actual signs to point you there. Using the mental map in my head, I got myself there several times, but saw no entrance to get onto the highway. To get on a Boston highway, usually you have to get on some "drive" or service road that leads you to it, and worst of all there's no road signs that tell you anything.
My first detour took me to some horse stable area that might've more intriguing to see had it not be 11:20pm at night. Then another roll of the dice had me going nowhere on Route 8 W that prompted me to turn around and try to re-trance my steps. The annoying part is that I knew exactly where the highway is located, but the rocket scientists who plan the city's roadways have no entrances nor signs indicating where one might find one of these treasured paths from the Fenway Park area to the I-90. Hours earlier in the day I was on the I-90 after I had left the Boston Common, but that meant I would have to re-trace my steps from that afternoon to get to that point again, and in the darkness of night with my mind in shambles from the endless wrong guesses, this in no way was possible. I got to see alot of Boston that night, but it wasn't in the way I wanted a tour. I noticed my gas was at the half-way mark and I was wasting more and more each time, I pulled into a gas station to fill up and ask somewhere how to get to the invisible I-90. The gas station attendant gave me some directions and I figured I was home free, but then at 12:16am I came to realize these directions were for the I-93. I was so drained and defeated I was almost willing to get on it and see where it would take me, but I thought better of it and headed back towards Fenway Park (for about the eighth time). My last resort was pulling over, finding out what address I was at, and calling my girlfriend to see if she could use Google to direct me to the highway entrance. I would come to discover from where I pulled over, that two lefts and two blocks more would finally-finally-finally get me onto the I-90 W. Only there was there a sign for it, but not like a few blocks away to tell drivers where it is, like most normal civilized places would.
A sense of relief came over me as I ventured onto the highway, for a few minutes I felt it was too good to be true. Then I come upon the toll which I was expecting, but the toll had two sections which wasn't explained clearly by the weather-faded sign. Apparently towards the left cash lanes would lead you onto another highway that I totally didn't want, and the rightward cash lanes would keep you onto the I-90 W. So after paying $1.25, I would find out I was on the wrong highway; this disastrous journey back to New York was never ending. I had to find an exit, turn around, pay $1.25 again to get back into Boston, get on the I-90 W, to only have to pay a third $1.25 installment and make sure I was only the correct highway once the split occurs before the toll booth. The next round of torture occurred when I switched onto the I-84 W; not only was there blinding fog patches, closed-lanes due to construction, parked trucks, but the worst of all was that the exit signs where of no consistent numerical sequence. About the entire stretch of I-84 W had road work being done to it, and cones were set up to only leave one lane open, but at some turns the cones would be gone and it would get confusing which was the good lane. At some points it would seem cars and trucks were in the middle lane, so I would switch to the middle, then it looked like it was left again, so I went back to the left. As one could imagine, there were cones knocked all over the road from other drivers who were also were having issues. What was making it even tougher was there would be these blankets of thick fog that make my car ride seem like a plane flying through the clouds in the sky. As I drove more and more there would be less vehicles on the road, less road work, less cones, to the point where it was just me and the night. The next important step to get to the I-91 S was at exit 86, and when I was on the I-84 W the exit number started in the 70's. I was expecting them to go up to the 80's until I reached 86, but instead they were going down to the 60's. How could this be I thought. Did I miss exit 86 somewhere? Was I going to have to go back to Boston again and start over? Was this nightmare of a night ever going to end?
Seeing the exit numbers were going down and not up, I got off at the next possible exit and found myself at a sign that listed I-84 E to Providence and I-84 W to Hartford. Although I was having my doubts about staying west on this highway, I figured with Hartford in Connecticut (at least halfway towards New York), I might as well go that way and maybe when I get to Hartford they'll be other signs about how to get back to civilization in New York. It was back onto the I-84 W for me and the numbers kept going down, now near the 50's, when all of a sudden I looked up and saw a sign for the I-91 S, which I needed. I couldn't believe my eyes, and needed to see another one to make sure it wasn't a mirage. Not only wasn't it what I needed, but it was indeed located at exit 86. Apparently, after the numbers to down from 70's-60's-50's, it magically turns into 90 and then goes down towards the 80's. I tried not to attempt to figure it out, I just got on the thing once the exit came. I could've stayed on the I-91 S and made the connection to the final step of the I-95 S, but the directions I had said it would be quicker if I detoured off to the CT-15 S. I was very skeptic of getting of the I-91 S and entering the unknown, but technically the directions had been working out to this point, in a weird sort of way, so I took to the two lane CT route and slowly drove on the foggy lonely highway. Once in a while a sports car would flash by at 90 mph, which I thought was insane, but for the most part I was all alone out in the wilderness. A good twenty minutes later I saw the sign for the I-95 S and I couldn't believe this madness was just about to end. I drove slowly to make sure I got on it alright and that there were no more tricks up the highway's sleeve. I was on it indeed; never in my life was I so happy to see the I-95, I would accept all its traffic as long as it would get me to bed. I didn't get home until about 4am and it was one of the longest nights of my life.
Trying to escape Boston that night has caused me to hate the Red Sox even more....
