Watching Tragedy Unfold on Facebook

Social media is never more powerful than when something horrible happens.  To be able to watch people come together with the common cause of disseminating important information as quickly as possible and to as many people as possible, and to cut through the chaos to try to pass on the facts as they become available... It's heartwarming in the midst of tragedy.

I watched yesterday's news of the explosions at the Boston Marathon break on Facebook as it was happening by friends who live and work in the area, and it was almost impossible to wrap my head around it.

I lived in Boston and Cambridge for the 5 years before moving here to Copenhagen, and was lucky enough to work with some really fantastic radio producers and reporters.  Watching them spring into action from across an ocean to pass on as much information by as many social media networks as possible was truly impressive.

For all the criticism that people have for social media and how it can bring out the worst in people, yesterday was a perfect example of how it can also act as someone's only lifeline when disaster strikes and the phone lines are too jammed to check in on loved ones.

It makes me think about 12 years ago.  At 20-years-old, I was living in New York City and taking night classes.  On 9/11, my mother spent hours trying to call to make sure I was safe, but the phone lines were jammed.  It was after 11am when she was finally able to call.

A little peace of mind in the midst of tragedy can go a long way, and I was relieved to be able to check in on friends in the Boston area all the way from here in Denmark.

Everyone I know in Boston is safe.  I hope the same for you and your friends and family as well.

I Can Has Context?

The truth is, the fact that I'm moving to Denmark hasn't completely sunk in.

Intellectually, I know it.  We've emptied our apartment.  I've picked up my new passport with my married name on it.  We've checked in for our flights online.  My brain has all of the correct information.

And yet... it's a life change that I don't actually have any context for.  So, emotionally, it feels like any other move.

Actually, it feels easier, as I wasn't the one packing up all of our things.  The movers did that (as is often the case with international moves).

I'm in for a bigger culture shock than my brain is allowing me to comprehend at the moment.

We ship off tomorrow.  For tonight, I say...

Farewell, Boston.  Farewell, Cambridge.

Farewell, America.  Don't make a mess of the place while I'm gone.

Massholes - A Special Breed of Unpleasant

Back in January, I wrote about the things that I will miss when we move to Denmark this summer.

Yesterday, however, I was reminded that there are also things that I will not miss.

Now, maybe this kind of thing happens in any big city, and I certainly saw plenty of it in New York, but I have a feeling that the two incidents that I witnessed yesterday were more typical of Boston than almost anywhere else.

Let's start yesterday morning: I had some errands to run, but my first stop didn't open until 10am.  So, I stopped by a local diner for some breakfast.  I could tell the waitress had a bad attitude immediately.  I stood waiting to be seated for a good 5 minutes while she finished her conversation.  After she seated me, she went to clear a couple of tables, only to return to the coworker she'd been chatting with earlier to loudly complain about the size of the tips she'd been getting that morning. "Four dollahs from three tables!  Four dollahs!"  A little while later, after clearing another table "A dollah twenty-five?  That's what he leaves?!" Perhaps her tips are so small because she complains so loudly about her small tips.

Rumor has it that tipping isn't as customary in Denmark, unless the waiter does a really excellent job. Waiters there are paid a living wage.

Later in the day, I was slowly making my way out of Boston through some typical mid-day traffic, and I see the driver of the minivan in front of me give the finger to an old man on crutches who was trying to cross the street.  At a cross-walk.  Where he's supposed to cross the street.  I'm sorry, was he inconveniencing you?  Oh, Boston.  Oh, Massholes.  What am I gonna do with you.

I'm sure there are rude people everywhere, but there's a special breed of self-important jerks in Boston that you rarely find anywhere else.

And that is something that I will not miss.

Home is Where...?

Do we feel more or less at home in different places because of the specific characteristics of a place?

Or do we just feel at home in some places more than others, and then start pointing to the things we like about it as justification?

I lean towards the former, mostly because I generally prefer to put concrete answers to things if I can.  But the truth is, I don't know.

We have been staying at a hotel in Rhode Island during the week while my fiance works on a project here.  Having me here means that he doesn't have to commute back to Boston every night to see me.  It's been a huge stress relief for both of us.  Yesterday, though, I drove back up to our apartment to pick up a few things, and was reminded of something I've always felt about the Boston area...

I've always felt like a visitor there.

When I mentioned this to my fiance, he commented on how quickly I seemed to settle in at the hotel.  And it's true.  For whatever reason, I do feel more at home here than in Boston.  Not that I would want to stay here.  We have yet to find a restaurant in the area that isn't a chain, and there's really nothing to do outside the hotel besides go to malls or movies.  Or chain restaurants.

Nowhere that I've lived or visited has ever made me feel more uncomfortable in my own skin than Boston.  I've met great people in Boston, had lots of fun times, found plenty of places that I like to hang out.  And yet... it's just never been right.

I think I knew, from the moment I moved here in 2008, that I wouldn't be staying.

Though, I never could have predicted that I'd be moving to Denmark.  I have a good feeling about it.  I hope it feels like home.

The "Great" Bridal Expo: or How Not to Run a Bridal Show

Most brides-to-be bring their mothers or bridesmaids to these bridal shows.  Most shows are alright, especially if they serve drinks and have lots of cake vendors offering up samples.

As my mother and all of my bridesmaids live in other states, I asked my poor fiance if I could drag him along.  He wasn't excited about the prospect, but I would have been concerned if he had been.  He was a good sport though, which is always appreciated.

The "Great Bridal Expo" at the Boston Park Plaza Hotel started at noon on Sunday, but we arrived around one o'clock.  We entered through the lobby, and there was no sign of a bridal show at all.  Just hotel guests and employees milling about. 

And then we looked up...

On the balcony that surrounded the lobby was a line than snaked all the way around the place.  We tried to find either the beginning or the end of the line and couldn't seem to find it.

Frustrated and hungry, we went off to find some lunch.  A little food goes a long way to improve patience, so we decided to give it another shot after we'd eaten. 

This time, we went in through the back entrance, and there it was.  And... almost no line left at all.  I barely had time to fill out my registration form before we got to the check-in table.

As for the "expo" itself?  One small reception hall packed shoulder to shoulder with brides and bridesmaids and mothers (and even a few fiances), but almost no vendors worth more than a brief glance.  I think we spent less than 10 minutes circling the place.  A few tux shops, a few jewelry places, one bakery that didn't bring any cake (!!), and then a bunch of dentists and plastic surgeons (...for the bride who's just not good enough to get married yet?  Come on...).

Where were all the good vendors?

At the OTHER bridal show.  The one at Fenway.  The one I didn't even know about.

D'oh.

Ruby Reviews a Comedy Revue

This blog is not about Denmark, or anything related to the Danish language.  And it's not even about the wedding!

Nope, this is a little review of last night's Bill Bailey show at the House of Blues in Boston.  If you're not familiar with the fine work of Mr. Bailey, here's a little (hour-long) taste:

Last night's show was fully hilarious, but it did have some slightly awkward moments.  we'll start with the crowd.  Now, as you can see in that youtube video, he tends to draw a pretty massive crowd in the UK.  Sadly, not so much here.  We were excited when we got there and were told our balcony seats were being upgraded to floor seats, only to find that they were doing this because even the floor hadn't sold out.  The floor was maybe 2/3 full.

So the show started, and laughter ensued.  The crowd, while totally engaged, was also totally bizarre.  The heckling included shouts of "Enthusiasm!" and "You're Bill Bailey!"

All in all, it was a great time, but in the end, he left the stage and we thought the show was over.  Some folks were expecting an encore, but maybe 1/3 of the crowd started to leave... and then he came back on stage for his encore.  Awkward.

Thing is... this then happened A SECOND TIME!  To be fair, this time, while a bunch of the crowd had gotten up to leave, a loud percentage had stayed chanting his name.  And he came back with his glass of wine saying "What do you want??  I already have my wine!"  He graciously did another song, left again, and the sound folks put on music cuing us that it really was the end this time.

It really was a lot of fun, but I have a feeling he finished this, the last show on his tour, on a bit of a "WTF" note.

Now...This is a story all about how...

Who starts a blog title with Fresh Prince lyrics but doesn't finish them?

This chick.

Anyway, I figure a bit of background is in order. So, I'll get you up to speed on some recent history:

In the Fall of 2008, right in the midst of the recession, my company basically gave me an ultimatum. Move to Boston (where, after one miserable semester of college, I ran screaming and swore I'd never go back) and keep my job, or stay in the already economically depressed city where I was... without a job. I grudgingly went with the former.

The next two years were some of my worst. With two cancer diagnoses in the family, one of which took me to a funeral on my birthday, a tumor of my own (thankfully benign) followed by surgery, plus the advance of the recession leading to pay cuts at work... twice, and all topped off with the death of a beloved family pet... 2009 could have been better.

While recovering from surgery that year, my oldest friend came to visit for a few days. The girl is always putting ideas in my head. I mentioned wanting to travel some day, and she insisted that I somehow move overseas. She made it sound so simple! I could just go! I seriously considered it while she was there, and then promptly lost all faith that I could make it happen.

2010 was a small improvement, but still riddled with heartbreak and frustration and that feeling that had been eating at me that I just wasn't... home.

In the Fall of 2010, a charming Englishman came into my life. The first time I met him, I thought, "I don't know if he's flirting, or just English..." In America on a two-year contract with his Denmark-based company. And what did he want? He wanted nothing more than to bring me with him when he moved back to Europe.

In April of 2011, he proposed on bended knee. In May of 2012, we'll be married.

I won't lie, I sometimes feel like my life has become an embarrassment of riches. But I am looking forward to the adventures to come.

At some point karma changed its mind about me, and I am okay with that.