Tag Archives: boston harbor

The Mursday Effect Chapter 7: On the Road Again (Kind Of)

“Where the hell are we going?” Bridget yelled, the bumper of the truck now lost to the unforgiving asphalt.

“Where we’re going, we don’t need roads,” Darren said.

“Oh my God, shut up,” Bridget shot back. “We don’t have time for Back to the Future references.”

“I mean, technically he’s not wrong,” Retrograde said, hands clenching the steering wheel with white knuckles. “We are going in the harbor, so really, there aren’t roads. Good one, Darren.”

Bridget rolled her eyes as Darren flashed a satisfied grin.

“Do you have a charter or something? What kind of boat are we talking? At this point, you could tell me we’re using a piece of broken-off ceiling tile from Walsh to get all the way to Nova Scotia,” Bridget said.

“That’s not a terrible idea, but that’s not what we’re doing,” Retrograde said, a smirk creeping up his face.

“Oh thank God,” said George, who we didn’t forget about but wasn’t necessary to the narrative until now.

“No,” Retrograde said, his smirk getting bigger. “We’re going to steal a boat.”

Normally this would be quite alarming, but everyone was pretty jaded at this point.

The quartet made it to the harbor, the New England Aquarium offering affordable fun for the whole family just steps away from historic Boston!

“Okay, here we go,” Retrograde said, making his way out to a dock.

“Hello, everyone! Welcome to our whale watching tour!” said a cheery guide dressed in all yellow.

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to ask you to get off the boat,” Retrograde said, the tiniest bit of authority in his voice.

“Okay, have a good day!” the teen said, dropping his air of care and concern. “Do what you want. I get paid minimum wage—”

“That’s great, see you later,” they all said hurriedly.

Having taken control of the boat, Retrograde fiddled with the standard navigation equipment that boats have. After a few minutes, the boat lurched forward, entering the choppy waters. After a half hour in the open waters, giant whales broke through the surface. It was beautiful.

“What an amazing and powerful representation of nature,” Darren said.

“I actually am not going to tell you to shut up this time,” Bridget said, hardly believing the words coming out of her mouth. “Because it’s nice, but also because we have to stay on this boat for hours.”

Retrograde sat at the helm, pushing buttons and doing more nautical things. He was like the old guy from Jaws.

After several hours of wandering around the boat, George came up to the deck to confer with his acquaintances.

“So, I was reading about Nova Scotia, and did you know that one of the guys from The Mamas and The Papas was from there?” he said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bridget said, clearly missing some gaps of knowledge about folk rock in the 1960s.

“Well, he is,” George said. “Maybe we can go to a museum while we’re there.”

“Museums are just curations of what people want us to see and not what actually happened,” Darren said.

Suddenly, Retrograde yelled from his perch in the boat.

“Nova Scotia, here we come!” he shouted, pointing to a green area in front of them.

“Wow, that wasn’t so bad,” Bridget said. “It’s almost as if someone condensed our entire journey for the sake of maintaining a word count.”

The four hopped off the boat, tying it to a worn-down rope.

“That’s not our problem anymore,” Retrograde said as he walked away. The boat was already drifting back out and nearing a jetty.

A sign toward the shore had WELCOME TO NOVA SCOTIA written in Comic Sans. They had made it.

“Now what? Nova Scotia is probably huge!” Darren said.

“Compared with the rest of Canada, that’s pretty accurate. There’s almost 1 million people here, and it’s the second-most populated area in Canada,” George said. He was trying out a new thing, in which he tried to be helpful and knowledgeable to befriend others.

“Luckily for us, I have a codebreaker with me. It shouldn’t be long before we find the code that tells us our location,” Retrograde said, puffing up his chest with importance.

He took out what looked like a regular piece of paper and placed it over the welcome sign. It now read “WEL VA TIA.”

“Perfect!” he shouted. The others looked at him like he was crazy, which is saying something. “I know exactly where this is. On to Well Varied Tiaras.”

“Are you kidding me?” Bridget said. “You just took out a piece of paper and covered up some letters.”

“I know,” Retrograde said. “But we’re going with it. Let’s go.”

Featured Image by Zoe Fanning / Heights Editor

A Late Encounter With The Harbor

This past weekend I marched from the Mod parking lot to Gasson and back carrying a large cardboard sign that read, “THE DOOM INCARNATE HAS ARRIVED. YE, THE FEAR WILL SOON BE UPON YOU.” As I walked many of my admirers stopped and said hello, smiling at me congenially.

“You fools,” I yelled in return. “Can’t you smell the bacon?”

“I don’t get it,” they whispered concernedly to each other. “Is he trying to be funny?”

After my 3576th march back to Gasson, sign hoisted against my shoulder, I was stopped by my favorite professor, and personal mentor, Winston Vatraizmet Hufflepants.

“Archer, dear God! What’s gotten into you?” he asked.

“The wheelchair assassins are coming for me,” I said. “Outsized mutant infants and feral hamsters!”

“All right, little buddy,” Professor Hufflepants said. “You’ve been reading a little bit too much. Let’s go get you some coffee and see if maybe we can find your mind somewhere.”

So, an hour later, I sat with Professor Hufflepants in The Chocolate Bar sipping a Chai Mochachino Double Whip Fire Fart Latteissimo.

“I’ve been a bit overwhelmed by life,” I said. “My every day, and extraordinarily relatable, college student struggles are really getting to me. Let me tell you right now, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, harder than being a college student. My problems are gigantic, absurd, and unconquerable. Not a single other human being on this big, green earth has it as hard as I do, and, by relation, as hard as other college students who can completely, 100 percent relate to this column. I mean conversation.”

Professor Hufflepants sighed.

“Your problems are infinitesimal and your self-pity is vomit-inducing,” Professor Hufflepants said. “Go do something enjoyable and stop being a useless child.”

“I was thinking of buying a couple of peacocks, moving to a farm in Georgia, and living out the rest of my life writing fantastic short stories,” I said. “What do you think of that?”

“Oh my God,” Professor Hufflepants said. “Insufferable, you’re absolutely insufferable.”

“Thanks for the help Big P Huffy Huffmeister,” I said. “I think I’ll go do something fantastically worthwhile right now.”

“Never call me that again.”

And so I found myself only two hours later sitting on a slow-moving B line train into the city. It was time to attempt a city appreciation experiment known as “Simple Pleasures.” Although, of course, I know every single nuance of Boston and have a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of the various attractions, I decided to forget that and just appreciate one great part of the city: the harbor.

One of the key points of Boston’s existence is the fact that it is on an ocean. Believe it or not, the majority of the country is nowhere near an ocean. So, while you’re here, it is imperative that you appreciate the water.

From Revere Beach down to Boston, there is plenty of shoreline to explore. Personally, I enjoy walking from Faneuil Hall down to the Long Wharf while listening to The Departed soundtrack (Howard Shore) and pretending I’m doing something interesting with my life.

As it gets colder you might say, “Hey Archer, I don’t want to go to the ocean because it’s freezing outside and my teeny little toes will get cold.”

To that I say, “Shut up.”

Cold weather makes the ocean even cooler. You can stand on the beach, boardwalk, or wharf while wearing a black jacket bundled up around your neck and grimacing at the water. Isn’t that all anyone could ever want? All you kids these days with your uptempo music and your internets no longer appreciate staring at the water and grimacing. Listen to a little Bobby Darin and appreciate the lapping waves, you poor excuse for a scumbag.

If you’re looking for a nice, solitary way to wind-down from a hard week of living, go check out a gigantic pit of salt water. It’s dramatic, it’s cinematic, and it’s Archermatic. That’s all I have to say.

That’s not really all I have to say. I’m obliged to warn you that if you don’t take my advice and head on down to the long wharf/ocean area you will almost assuredly end up walking up and down campus carrying an insane-message-emblazoned sign, so what I’m telling you is in your best interest. Keep that in mind as you learn to appreciate the simple things.

Featured Image by Francisco Ruela / Heights Graphic