I had planned to do another post before leaving Massacusetts, but it was a difficult week. I would have been happy to get to the end of it even if I didn’t have a trip at the end.

Friday really was doing meetings all day and trying to finish packing and watering the plants before I left.

I left my apartment at 2:30 with the idea that I could get the 3:30 Logan Express bus to the airport from Framingham. Logan Express has different locations. It is basically a company that runs a bus service from suburbs to the airport. (https://www.massport.com/logan-airport/to-from-logan/transportation-options/logan-express/)

I know lots of people wonder why I drive into Framingham from Worcester, park at the Logan Express, and then take the bus to the airport instead of driving to the airport. It’s easier and cheaper. Logan Express parking is only $7 a day while long-term parking at Logan is $25 a day.

I also prefer not getting a ride because I like having my car at the bus terminal rather than being in my apartment’s parking lot in case it snows. My apartment has a policy that we have to move our cars for the plow guy. If we have that amount of snow, any one I know that could move the car is going to be busy shoveling out their car and may not be able to get mine out before the plow guy comes. Thus, Logan Express is cheaper, and gives me a lot less headaches.

This morning, I was running behind because of the frozen lock on the dumpster at my apartment (another story that I won’t get into here), but fortunately, I found parking at Logan right away. Bonus that it was in the covered garage, so I won’t have to shovel out car if it snows while I’m gone! And since I found a spot so quickly (and reserved by ticket ahead), I walked to the building and was able to board the 3:30 bus. Plus, because I was mindful of blogging, I actually took a picture of the location of my car, so in two weeks, I won’t be wandering around trying to remember where I left it.

Score for me.

Yes, I am that person who gets to the airport when they tell you to get to the airport, but I really don’t mind. I have TSA pre-check, and I was there even before that opened. Took me no time because we didn’t have to take our shoes off or take anything out of our bags. I was on my way, taking a picture of the Friendly’s at the airport for Rita. And then I sat and sat. But getting there early is a way for dealing with my anxiety, and I was able to do my weekly call with my mom.

Frankly, it was a fairly uneventful trip across country. I flew from Boston to Seattle, a five-hour flight where I slept most of the time. For some reason, I immediately get sleepy on a plane as soons as I buckle my seatbelt. Too bad, too, because when I woke up I realized there were over 600 movies and shows I could have watched for free on the flight.

Then I had a three-hour layover in Seattle. Enough time to have lunch, change my boots for my travel slippers, write in my journal, and read a bunch of webcomics.

The plane that I took from Seattle to Vancouver was one of those smaller planes where the overhead bins really don’t fit standard carryons, so I ended up having to check my bag. I was only worried because nothing had gone wrong yet, but my bag was one of the first ones that came out.

I was too busy trying to bring my heart rate down to worry about my bag though. Am I the only one who gets nervous talking to people at customs? I always have my paperwork, but still feel guilty like they are looking for a reason to recognize that I’m probably too crazy to be allowed in their country.

Border officers are always super serious asking where you are going and how long you are going to be in a place–mundane stuff really, but no matter how many times I’ve done this, I still get nervous. The officer that was helping me asked me where I was going in the typical deadpanned way (I mean they have to ask the same question thousdands of times a day). I should have just said “Toronto” since that is my last spot, but I mumbled and she asked me to repeat, so I (sweating) blurted out “train” “prairies” “mountains” as if I was playing charade, and she was acting out Canadian words. She looked at me blankly for a minute (as if I had lost my mind) and then broke out into a grin, “Oh! You’re going on the train across Canada. How exciting. Have a great trip.”

Whew. International incident avoided.

Once I got out to the waiting area, I called the company to let them know I arrived and within five minutes a very nice man showed up to take me to my hotel. He knew exactly where I was because apparently everyone waits at the two wooden statues. I will have to look these up to see what they mean.

I’m supposed to be going to dinner. Fresh Tracks Canada Reserved dinner for me at a very nice restaurant near the waterfront and the Olympic Cauldron. At the time, I thought it was a great idea, but I didn’t think about the time difference.

People who know me know I eat and sleep early. The reservation is for 7:30 PM, a time lots of people eat dinner, but not me. Also, my body is telling me that it’s three hours later than that, so I’m going to take a bath and go to bed, so I can be rested up for tomorrow.

Sorry, Candace from Fresh Tracks Canada. I’m already messing up your perfect plan.

I’m staying at the Georgian Court, and I really like my room. They even give you yoga mats and have a space next to bed that is open so you can exercise.

Plus, the view out my window is the British Columbia Sports Hall of Fame, which is a really interesting building at night.

Tomorrow, I’m scheduled to go on a tour of Vancouver, so I’m going to bed!

Note: Some of you know that I have a thing for bathrooms, so I took pictures not just of the bathroom in the hotel room, which is rather ordinary, but look at the pictures of the women’s bathroom in the Vancouver airport. See, public restrooms don’t have to be boring!