Will Bueché

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Cambridge Marriott

Posted in Personal by Will on Thursday, September 16th, 2004 ~ 6pm

Why does driving to some places give me the frikkin’ willies? I’m to drive out beyond from where I usually travel to the far edge of Cambridge, basically the closest you can get to Boston without actually being in Boston. I haven’t set foot in Boston in probably ten years. I’m thinking it the lack of a natural environment that freaks me out. There’s a hotel there, which I am to go to, which is essentially sitting in a concrete wasteland. If I overshoot where I am going, I will wind up at best on a semi-highway and at worst I will be stuck on a bridge into Boston. Adding to the navigation terror is that I am to be there, at that location, during rush hour. I am to arrive at about the start of rush hour (the term “hour” not being accurate), and I am to leave two hours later, also at rush hour. So I’m not even getting the luxury of being able to scout this location out while traffic is low. I’ll be driving defensively at the height of the worst traffic Boston can provide, to a place I haven’t been to, in a section of town I purposefully stay away from (due to that whole “concrete wasteland”vibe it has). Not happy. Might take a taxi, but even those suck, and maybe even suck worse when you are stuck in rush hour traffic. It’s a close call between weather being stuck in your own car during rush hour gridlock is better or worse than being trapped in a taxi during rush hour gridlock. In your own car, you can at least puke or fart without upsetting anyone, but on the other hand, even if you were in your own car, puking would probably involve having to pull over and give up driving anyway. So it’s a tough call. I don’t know.

The last time I went to that part of town was…well I dont remember how many years ago it was, but I know it was for jury duty in a courthouse near there. So that should give you an idea of how much I do not want to go there… it took the threat of jail to get me there a few years ago. This time, my presence there is to fulfill an interview request that has been made of me. That’s right… not only do I need to not puke on the way over, I have to look good for the interview.

I suspect what I will do is get there an hour early, thus skipping the first part of the rush hour. That does mean having to hang out in a sterile lobby of a hotel for an hour, which, can I just add, also gives me the freakin’ willies? The chemically sterilized deadness of hotels – lobbies, rooms, you name it, is like a freakin’ dead zone Steven King would write about. It’s like life has been stomped out.

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