Here We Go Again

Ringing in the new year means heading into Boston to see all the ice sculptures artists create for the city's First Night celebration.  This tradition arose from my desire to get out and go somewhere after a few years of watching those Three Stooges marathons on TV.  One of my friends would join me but since he moved away in 2011, I've been making the trip into the city by myself.

Boston's winding streets and subway lines became familiar to me during my college years but I never developed a great love for the place thanks in part to many encounters with strange or antisocial people.  It's like they were drawn to me and in my frustration I joked there must be an "idiot magnet" somewhere inside my soul.  After college, I continued to visit Boston for a few years but the increases in gas prices and transit fares made trips into the city rare.

For First Night, all public transportation is free after 8 PM so that's enough incentive to return to Boston.  I like to drive to the city of Revere and then take a rapid transit train the rest of the way.  Sometimes when I stand on the subway platform, it feels like a thousand wonderful possibilities await.  Who will I see?  Will anyone interact with me?  Every now and then you hear stories about a couple who got married on a bus or a train because that's where they first met.  It doesn't take long for someone to derail this tinge of optimism, however.

During the final hours of 2016, a guy waiting for the train asked me why I was carrying a tripod.  When I told him it was to take time exposed photographs of the ice sculptures, he added, "I know that but where's your camera?"  I replied, "In my pocket.  I have a cheap camera that's pretty small."  I was put off by his backhanded officiousness.  Instead of being interested in my photography hobby, the sight of a tripod without a camera didn't sit right with him.  Was this interaction a bad omen?

When the train finally arrived, I took a seat at the far end of the car and tried to relax.  At the very next stop, a drunk woman and her boyfriend shuffled in and plunked themselves down in the seat across from me.  She appeared to be heroin addict with a prematurely aged face and slurred speech that was almost unintelligible.  Her boyfriend acted tough by lacing his remarks with profanities.  I thought to myself, "Here we go again."

She pulled a bottle of beer out of her jacket and asked me if I had a bottle opener.  I shook my head no.  She then decided to walk around the train to ask the other passengers while her boyfriend got mad.  She came back with the opened bottle and the two decided to argue loudly.  It was a sad sight brought on by many years of addiction but most of my fellow passengers just laughed and pointed.  The woman then bit her boyfriend on the forehead so he shoved her and swore.  She made up to him by hugging and later straddling him.  Two girls nearby decided to record the scene on their smart phone.  Even a few passengers in the next car took notice.  The woman's bottle of beer spilled all over the place and the two argued once more.  The guy looked at me in disgust and said, "Don't ever get married."  I had seen enough.  When the train stopped at the next station, I fled to the rear car.  The passengers there who had observed the spectacle asked me what it was all about.  I replied, "Substance abuse."

The incident left me feeling cold and I found myself wondering why I had to see such ugliness from the world.  The woman was basically a walking corpse.  Should I have said something to her about getting help?  Would it have made a difference or would her boyfriend have told me to mind my own business?  He did look very tough.  I then wondered why God had to put these people in my path.  Was it a test or was the incident meant to humble me?  As I walked by fancy restaurants filled with well-dressed New Year's Eve revelers, I thought about how the wealthy have the means to insulate themselves from such things.  You're not likely to meet people on the fringe of society while taking a limousine into Boston.

One of the ice sculptures for Boston's 2017 First Night 

I managed to photograph the ice sculptures that night but walking around the city by myself only made me feel disconnected.  After the midnight fireworks, I headed back to the subway and gave directions to a young couple who had their drunk friend in tow.  The return trip to Revere was pretty quiet since the subway car wasn't crowded.  I reflected on the two extremes that have constantly plagued me in my travels over the years: I'm either all alone or people really bother me.  It's hard not to be jaded.