Don't get me wrong; I'd love to visit the States on a holiday, but to have to do it on business is a real chore. I'd been over to Boston once before, about six years ago. Technology meant that it wasn't really necessary anymore, but for some reason the Company Directors decided that I should be out there in person when the new Server went on-line.
I travelled over on Sunday so that I could be in the office first thing on Monday morning. It was a relatively relaxed journey – I didn't have to check in until after lunchtime.
Although it was a flight of over seven and a half hours, the time went fairly quickly. They were showing a couple of films I hadn't seen yet and I had also taken a book with me to read. And when I got bored with both of those, I watched the display of the flight path. The gradual curve that we had taken over the Atlantic suddenly changed as we were put into a holding pattern and made a full 360 degrees turn before continuing on down to the runway. From the angle of approach I could just about make out the hotel that I was supposed to be staying at.
The last time I went through Boston Logan was not long after 9/11 and the security personnel were very jumpy. They were still very careful this time, but more relaxed and as a result within half an hour of landing I was out on the street and getting into a taxi. It was a 50:50 chance that I would get a Bostonian of Irish or Italian descent, this time the badge declared him to be Michael Flaherty. It was a short, but pleasant ride as the driver was one of those who like to chat to his customers.
The Marriott Long Wharf looked just the same as I remembered it. I paid the driver and walked in carrying my own bag (a small one). Although it was only about 6pm, my body clock was still thinking it was five hours later, so I was glad to get into my room and sit down. I really didn't feel like going out, but I knew that I needed to eat, so I ordered up a pizza from Room Service. They're so much more prompt in the US. I had hardly got to grips with the TV and its choice of channels when there was a knock on the door. I signed for the food and iced beer and sat down to eat.
I managed to keep myself awake until about 9pm, before getting into bed. Amazingly, I slept until exactly 7am the next morning, just as my alarm was about to go off. This basically allowed me a nice leisurely shower, breakfast and then walk to the Boston office.
The restaurant looks out over the harbour and on a glorious day such as this it looked truly beautiful. As I said, I'd love to go there as a tourist, but this was a business trip.
As it turned out, my work was almost completed in two days, but because of the time difference with the UK, I was going to have to go in again first thing in the morning to make one last test. I went out in the evening to Quincy Market, where I knew that I could get seemingly any nationality of food under the sun. For some reason I fancied the idea of Thai cooking and made for Bangkok Express where I ordered up Satay Kai Chicken. It wasn't a disappointment. After allowing the meal to digest, I still felt I had a little room and indulged my sweet tooth at Joeys Gelateria.
I stayed out walking around for the rest of the evening before making my way back to the hotel. I had a beer in the bar, but was by now feeling a little tired so made my way to bed.
So, once again I arose at 7am, showered, dressed and then headed downstairs for breakfast.
Having eaten well the night before, I wasn't particularly hungry – certainly not enough to need a cooked breakfast. So, I decided upon toast, juice and coffee.
They have a toast making machine in the restaurant. You choose your slice of bread and place it on the metal conveyor belt. The bread moves into the works, being heated rapidly, turns and comes back out underneath. I have to be honest; the first time I came across it, I hadn't got a clue how it worked – but I was fortunate enough to see somebody else using it and simply copied them. The woman who was standing in front of the apparatus looking bemused was older than me, but I couldn't really be certain by how much. She was dressed in dark grey trousers and matching jacket and she wore her hair fairly short. In her three inch high heeled shoes I would guess that she was around 5' 10", or about three inches shorter than I am.
I walked up and said, "Can I help? I know it can be a bit difficult to get the hang of it."
"Thank goodness! Another English voice! I was dreading having to ask somebody and look daft."
Face to face I realised that she was probably in her mid-fifties, but that she was still very attractive. I couldn't help noticing the impressive cleavage that she was displaying in the "V" of her blouse. The suit she was wearing was snug fitting and it looked as though she had very nice curves, but little excess. All this I took in, in a matter of seconds. I got myself back on track as I explained how she could make her toast. I placed my own bread in behind hers and waited for it to arrive.
"Are you with someone," she asked. "Or shall we sit together and form our own little British enclave?"
"Why not? It would be nice to have company for once."
We moved to the far side of the restaurant area, next to a window and overlooking the harbour. On a blue-sky day such as this the view was magnificent.
"I'm Janie, by the way," she said.
"Alex," I replied. "I'm over here for a few days on business, how about you?"
"I'm on the last leg of a tour of the Company's offices. I just got in from Dallas late last night. I've got a meeting at 11am followed by a lunch. After that I'm supposed to be taken out to the warehouse to be given a guided tour." She raised her eyebrows to emphasise her lack of interest in the prospect. "Then I'm supposed to have another two meetings tomorrow – morning and afternoon.
"So, what about you? How long are you over here for?" she asked.
"Me? Three days, more or less. I work in IT. I really didn't need to be here as we can do most things remotely nowadays, but somebody got in a panic and insisted that I came over. To be on the safe side, I've got three and a half days to get things right and smooth a few people's wrinkles."
We chatted amiably while we ate our breakfasts. Eventually though, I decided that I needed to return to my room to get ready to leave. It was a pleasant interlude and at the time I thought that this was all it was.
The Boston office was a half hour walk from the hotel. I spent the day overseeing the network, tidying up and doing a few favours.
I strolled back to Long Wharf and made my way up to my room on the sixth floor. The television held my interest for no more than thirty minutes and pretty soon I remembered breakfast – and Janie. I wondered if she had returned to the hotel yet and decided to stroll downstairs and see if I could spot her. I wandered around, made a single drink last an eternity in the bar, but by 7pm I was both hungry and convinced that she wasn't around.
I left the hotel and headed for Quincy Market again. I didn't really know what I wanted to eat, but in the end walked into the Durgin Park restaurant. I was glad I did; the food was classic American – the portions likewise. I sat at the bar and ordered a drink before deciding on my meal and then ate it where I sat. I had no interest in moving away as the bartender was an absolute riot. He seemed to be able to make almost anybody laugh and keep them amused for hours.
After a few more beers I eventually settled my bill made my way outside. I would have stayed longer, but my body still hadn't quite adjusted to US time and I had to be up early in the morning again.
I slept soundly and was only awoken by my alarm going off. I got up showered, shaved and got dressed. I was dressed casually again, wearing jeans and an open-necked shirt.
It was another nice day outside, so having loaded my breakfast tray I headed over to the same table that I had been at the previous morning. I'd only been there for five minutes, totally absorbed in the view, when I heard a voice behind me.
"Good morning handsome. I hoped I might see you again."
