#Exhausting
Picture me getting out of a taxi at Boston's north station with two duffles, a day pack, ear phones still in, irie eyed, pants sagging to low, and my skateboard under my arm (obviously). After giving the cab driver too big of a tip I waddled my way through the crowd and just made it on the outbound train to Beverly Farms.
#Waddling
Most people who live in Boston travel via train to the beaches close to my grandparents house on the weekend. Since this was a saturday morning it was peak hour for bleach white Bostonians to have any chance at catching some rays at the beach. So while I was sweating my tits off acting as the world's strongest man, there are numerous Beantown locals lathering themselves in sun screen and making sure to drink plenty of icy cold fresh dank pure amazing refreshing water right next to me. Sweet.
#Shoobies
I proceeded to pull some random photo off the internet relating to my perception:
I finally made it to my grandparents house and had about 8 hours before my Uncle Billy drove me back to the airport for my flight to Spain...
What did I do for those 8 hours? I spent some quality time with my grandparents asking them if they need any chores done, praying over and over again they will say no. Because my g-rents are the coolest people ever I just relaxed, threw some horse shoes with my uncle, ate some delicious roast beef sandwiches, and laid by the pool. Nene and Papa's house is as follows:
#800HaleSt.
After dinner, Uncle Billy drove me to the airport. I think he was a little bitter considering the Celtics were just starting game 7. You know how everyone says to be at least an hour and a half early for all flights especially int'l ones? Yea not this time. I arrived with only 50 minutes to check in and get through security. Thankfully my bags were checked and security didn't have to search my ridiculous looking curly hair for illegal substances.
#FashionablyLate
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