Boston
Unlike my first ever flight just a few years before, this was uneventful. A quick refresher, the first flight was from Kathmandu, Nepal to London Heathrow, via transfer at New Delhi. On the second leg of the journey, on an Air India B-747, just after take off from New Delhi Airport, one of the engines blew-up, with near catastrophic consequences. But that is a different story, which you can read about on page 85 of my first e-book.
To be fair, it was nearly 50 years ago as I write this, so some things are somewhat vague.
I was allowed into the country. That was the extent of my preplaning, getting to the US. I had no plan as to where I was going to go, nor how long I was going to stay. With one possible exception, visiting Pete's sister. That story in due time.
I left the airport with my huge rucksack on my back. With a Union Flag sewn on to the red material and a tourist type Union Flag on a plastic stick, stuck out the top of my rucksack. I suspect I picked up a local map of Boston at the airport, an headed towards the Massachusetts Turnpike, on foot. I did a lot of walking, and not a lot of getting on transport that costs money. I guess I headed out of the city for a similar reason, to avoid spending money. Cities tend to be expensive places.
Fortunately, the airport and the turnpike are not a huge distance apart. I am not sure where I was, neither now nor then, but I had found the top of an entry ramp to the Massachusetts Turnpike and it was probably about 6PM. I had my thumb out for a lift for cars entering the ramp.
A VW Beetle pulled up. The driver was a young woman who asked where I was going and then suggested I would not have a lot of luck at this time of day. Instead, she took me to her home, in a block of flats, or should I say residential apartments. After dinner we sat on big cushions in the lounge, I don't recall there being a sofa. She worked during the day but was also a singer / songwriter. She sat in shorts and tee-shirt playing an acoustic guitar and singing. We also talked a lot. I seem to recall it was hot and therefore no air-conditioning. I told of my travels. It is nice to have someone who wants to listen.
However, she had to go to work in the morning and it was already very late.
She insisted that I take her bed, and she would sleep on the floor, in the lounge.
Her bed was huge, plenty of space for two without compromise. After about ten minutes, I was still uncomfortable that I had her bed. From a British perspective, not very gentlemanly. I knocked on the lounge door suggested that we swopped or share the ample space. No, it appears that the American way is to give up your bed.
I hope I did not distress her, leave her anxious overnight after knocking on her door. After all, she had invited a total stranger into her flat, who she knew nothing about.
Morning came, breakfast was made and eaten. All was well. She left for work leaving me inside. Would she be happy if I was still there when she returned. Could I find my way back if I went into Boston and did some tourist things.
She was a lovely person, and I think took on a risk inviting a stranger in.
However, as much as a siding door moment her picking me up was, leaving was even bigger. Stay and spend more time with her in Boston, or go on for more of the unknown. I never did know the address of her flat.
