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Walden: A Modern Transcendentalist Mecca: Tuesday - The Descent


Tuesday - The Descent
http://www.flickr.com/photos/105686585@N04/collections/72157641760200233/

Like Hawks Descending on their unprotected prey;
We plunged upon the Massachusetts Bay,
Conquistadors of the brilliant light of day,
Surveyors saturated in Mother Nature’s way.

I
n order to spend as much time in Massachusetts as possible, and given that the days are shorter and we lose three hours heading East; my wife and I had planned to catch the 8:00am flight out of LAX, Tuesday morning, November 5th. However, to depart at 8am, one must arrive at the airport at about 6am. On a normal day and at an average time; it takes just over an hour to drive from Corona to LA. But in the morning, at rush-hour; the whole multiverse comes crawling down the 91, and one can spend over two hours on the road. In an effort to beat this morning deluge; we decided to leave Corona at 4. But this meant waking up at 3am, and my musician lifestyle usually keeps me up until 3am. Though it was no easy task, and a test of mind over matter; I was able to get up a little earlier each day, and then a little earlier, and still earlier the next, and by the time we left home, not only was I fully adjusted; but I was totally prepared for the time difference back East as well.

                As the plane descended upon Boston, I felt like some majestic hawk gliding with my feathers outstretched over my glorious kingdom, and spying my prey as I gawked at the lush scenery and the copious ponds. I giggled almost like an infant; my eyes glowing, and my face exploding with astonishment at the sight below me. I grinned liked the Grinch, or like some nefarious banker like a Rothschild or Rockefeller, or even still; like some conquistador like Cortes or Columbus, for it was as if the whole wilderness was mine for the taking. But I did not dream of riches or wealth, nor of conquest or empire, no, on the contrary; like the crew of the Star Trek Enterprise, like Kirk or Picard; I was on a voyage with a mission to seek out new life, and to boldly go where I had never gone before.

                With my thrift-store coat, and Christmas-gift scarf and beanie, I was as warm and adequately equipped as all the locals. Still; the chill was so cold it burned my face, and it reminded me of a childhood memory. Growing up, at my elementary school, there was this ancient slide that was a favorite of mine every recess. I recollect that on a sizzling SoCal afternoon, that slide would burn so hot that the metal felt somehow cold-as-ice on my skin. And in the winter, on a chilly morning, the metal would be so cold that it felt like hell-fire against my body. And so, like the sting of angry bees; this was the crippling kind of cold that I felt in Massachusetts.

Though the sun was quickly setting; we arrived in Boston with just enough time to pick up our rental car and find a place for soup in the city before we got on the road to our motel in Danvers. The highways were an absolute mess (and I thought southern California drivers were crazy!), those Massachusetts drivers have no regard, respect, or sympathy for anyone on the road. They would cut us off left and right, tailgate us constantly, and speed and brake at the last minute on slippery wet highways. As if that weren’t bad enough; the highways do not have special lanes for entering or exiting; it is every man for himself. If you need to exit the highway to go to a store or gas station, usually you would have to circle around, go under or over the highway, circle to head back toward the highway going the opposite direction, circle to get back on the highway, circle to get off, and then circle to turn into the lot of your destination. Insanity! But wait, it gets worse! Most of the streets do not have street signs, or if they do, they are invisible! So needless to say, we got so twist-turned around; I needed ginger each night to quell my queasy stomach. In fact, we found ourselves so tense from the frustration that we were ready to murder each other or some innocent bystander at any moment. Were it not for the abundance of tree-filled skylines outside the vehicle; I probably would not be alive to write this tale, or worse; I would be writing it from jail, awaiting arraignment for the manslaughter of someone's beloved.  Miraculously, we somehow arrived safely at our motel room just in time for bed, for we certainly needed our rest to prepare for Wednesday’s adventures…

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