Right when I thought I had finally settled enough to accept the Texas weird-isms as normalcy in my new life, it was time to visit Erin, my college roommate, in New England. Talk about contrasting cultures.
After driving to Austin in a violent mist and BARELY making my connection in Nashville, I landed in Boston.
Erin and I had a quick running-through-a-meadow-of-flowers moment, then we jumped in the car to brave the Boston streets. For real, though, bravery was needed; almost immediately after getting on the road, a man flailing out of a truck window kindly reminded Erin to turn on her headlights (hence, the post title), then we got hopelessly turned around and *almost* got stuck on a road that I was told is the traffic equivalent of purgatory.
After some quick problem solving (“There’s a museum! Those are safe. Park there.”), we set off to grab foods and roam around the West/North End.
The conclusion I made after 10 minutes of winding through cobblestone streets, past bars, preppy college kids, and edgy Bostonians: I could totally live here.
Yet, the weekend was not made for big city plans. Erin and I had some redneck things to do. Off to New Hampshire we went.
After driving for an hour and a half through complete darkness on twisty roads, where I thought the forest was definitely going to swallow us whole, we arrived at the House of Erin and were greeted by the biggest puff ball (“dog”) that I’ve ever met.
Then my old person lifestyle kicked in, and I passed out for the night.
When I woke up to this the next morning, I knew I had made a great destination choice to get away from work for a few days.
I forgot to mention that what originally sparked my plane ticket purchase was an event in my calendar titled “Chicken Roast in NH!” It was mostly a joke… but actually not at all because that’s exactly where we went.
We strolled on down the road to the next door neighbor’s barn, where we were greeted by a whole mess of people in jeans, work boots, and ball caps and a flatbed trailer covered in a table cloth and full of food. I could not be more excited. Erin and I raised our glasses of sangria (one step above jungle juice but still very college) to our country upbringings, and dug in.
Hours passed by in a whirlwind of pickup trucks, family friends, and an army of grilled chickens before we called it a day.
Or, we would have called it a day if Erin’s dad hadn’t force fed us his signature margaritas (the signature being that they’re REALLY STRONG).
The next day we climbed to the top of the world. No biggie.
… then counteracted all the super fit outdoors-y hiking exercise with New Hampshire’s best ice cream. SURPRISE! It wasn’t Ben & Jerry’s.
The long drives had me feeling a little claustrophobic. I guess I never realized that I’m not a forest animal.
The next day brought a clearing in the trees, though, because we had some ‘sploring to do. I needed another taste of Bahston.
AND IT TASTED SO GOOOOOOOOOOOD…
I exercised mine and Abi’s tried-and-true method of understanding the personality of a city: walk into the first H&M you can find. My suspicions were correct, and Bostonians like their edgy/preppy combo. It was beautiful.
Once Erin and I realized we really shouldn’t be shopping because we still haven’t become insta-rich, we settled on a toast to being alive and not homeless post-graduation.
We strolled some more. Took in the sights. I had a moment where I thought I was in Scotland.
Then, sadly, it was time for me to mosey on back to San Antone. For my first vacation since being a “real person”, I couldn’t have asked for a better mix of relaxation and sightseeing. Thanks, Erin, my dear!
The fun part will be getting to see how she handles the Texan life when she comes to visit in November. MUAHAHAHA.