Thanksgiving. Jean in the hospital. Emily, Michelle, David and myself visit John and Larry. Well, to get technical Larry is visiting too. But it is one of the houses where he grew up, it is certainly his home. He arrived at two this morning.
I waited til ten to do a little noodling on the piano. Smoked my second puff of cigarette then too. I smoke two cigarettes a day. Two strong, nasty cigarettes. Well, I don’t find them nasty, they’re smooth and tasty to me, but I know they’re nasty to others. Anyway, everyone knew I had to be on my train at 1510. So I was responsible for the slight rush with which supper was prepared. By eleven things were starting to cook. Larry had been up for a bit. John had long since got the turkey in the oven. David and I had hung out a bit, discussing a little school, a little music, a little Ireland. I peeled the potatoes. I was trying hard to be helpful, we’re all rather self-sufficient yankee types. But I have a lot too learn. I experimentally poke at the taters with the masher before cooking them. I didn’t really need anyone to explain to me that that was not going to work, but I did ask for confirmation. Just in case I had somehow grown fantastically weak or something. And, perhaps, because I don’t mind playing the fool. In friendly environs at any rate. I’d had a banana for breakfast. I was ready. We did munch a bit in the last hour, three kinds of crackers, brie, dill havarti, a blue cheese and chicken and beef pates all having been nicely arranged by Emily. This is actually about when Michelle arrived. I stuck with the dill havarti, Simple palate that I have. The meal was fantastic. John had done all the actual cooking, save the squash which Larry had done. It was all fantastic.
So I was in pretty good shape to make my train. I had to skip dessert, but that's quite alright, I'm not a huge fan of sugar; tho it did sound tasty. I left with plenty of time to catch the T or a cab, but I had the bright idea of walking. It wasn't too bad out, rather cold but I was well bundled. And I'd made the walk before, Larry had told me it wasn't more than fifteen or twenty minutes walked right, and I had half an hour. Of course, the last time I'd walked it I got lost. Yes, that happened again. The common is a little disorienting, I think, all the exits look similar, the statue is the only real landmark and it seems I never figured out which side that is. It must be west while I was thinking south. So the minutes ticked off as I realized I must be going the wrong way and started asking for directions. Some nice Asian kids tried to be helpful, but I should have had a clue they didn't really know which way I wanted to go when they said -Back Bay South Station?
You may know those are two different stations. I knew full well that those are two different stations. But I went off in the direction they pointed. But I guess I had a clue something might be ammiss because I asked for directions again only a few minutes after. Of a cabby of all people. He was quite helpful actually, though I'm sure he's rather have had me as a fare. But, being down to my last twenty dollars of cash I was uneager to spend it on a distance I knew I still had time to walk. But the minuted were still passing as I came to a triangular intersection he hadn't really described. He did say -Go through Chinatown, but neither street looked more so than the other. I bore right. Wrong, but not by too much. I did get into Chinatown, but the first person I asked, trying to stay on course, was a middle aged asian woman who either didn't know, didn't speak much english or didn't like the looks of me, for her reply was simply -No, no!
I was fairly certain I was at least headed the right general direction, so I proceeded. Then a homeless guy asked me for change. Well, I didn't have change and didn't have time to break the twenty for him, but he told me where the station was anyway. I was minutes away, but it was departure time for my train. I jogged a bit, hoping it might be a few minutes late. As I ran into the station I hear the final boarding call for some train; but I didn't here Penn Station on its list of stops. I almost ran for it anyway, but decided to look at the board instead. There was nothing bound for Penn there, but I knew that it was frequently a station stop on the Washington train, and there was one up, with no departure nor arrival time. Had I missed my train? I rifled my baggage for the ticket. Yes, that was the train number. I asked a porter. My train had not arrived yet.

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