08-02-2016, 03:17 AM
Never eat in the hotel. It is much too expensive and it doesn't have a lot of flavor or character. (Unless it is free. Then stomach the drivel) We opted to go to the South Street diner for breakfast before out interview with Mr. Domolky. It was a bit of a walk to get there. So, we had to leave right at seven to be able to get there, eat, and get back. Stop me if you heard this. To sum up. We had to eat in the hotel.
Saying you are meeting someone on Beacon Street, in my estimation, was like saying you knew someone in Bel Air or atop Nob Hill. It just doesn't happen. But in this case it did. George Domolky owns the first floor of a three story apartment across the street from the Boston Gardens. It was quite the transition driving the mile from our hotel with it's transients and litter filled streets to the rarefied air of the Boston Garden.
It was the one day of rain, so I was pretty sure our interference for the morning was going to be thunder booming during all the recordings. But it wasn't the case. I had a bit of a problem getting to his house since there was a trick to getting there that wasn't on Google Maps and there were a lot of confusing one way streets. Turns out you needed to make the turn towards Storrow Dr and make a sharp right under the Arthur Fiedler overpass to get behind his apartment. All these words mean nothing to you.
Mr. Domolky was very gracious. Again, an 84 year old man apologized for not helping carry the heavy gear to the apartment. Meanwhile the 14 year old sought out the lightest thing he could carry.
The apartment was gorgeous, complete with a crystal chandelier over our filming area. Once we got all the gear in, I had to go take the car and park it under Boston Common since there was no parking near Domolky's house.
The interview went well. Mr. Domolky had some very good and clear opinions about Piller. He had some stories. He brought up the fact that his fencing sister was on a Hungarian stamp. She made it a point to send a letter to him with her stamp on it. We are interviewing Lidia when we get to Budapest. Domolky even had some good insights into Piller we hadn't heard before. But still nothing before the end of World War 2.
The only noise related issue was the people clogging in the apartment above us. Mr. Domolky told HK that they had just gotten into the apartment after the flood repair. A water main had broken or been left running in the apartment above them and flooded their apartment. As we wrapped up the interview, some contractors showed up to do some work. Mrs. Domolky couldn't get rid of us fast enough. Plus, they were heading to Cape Cod in the afternoon.
HK decided since there was a car and driver, namely me, that we all should go to see the USS Constitution. No problem. Except that HK jr would have preferred to be back in the hotel.
We got nice and lost on the way there. Since we drove by the Bunker Hill monument, we decided to stop in after lunch. As a quick note, maybe climbing the 300 odd steps to the top of the Bunker Hill monument after a full lunch at the Warren Tavern wasn't the best idea. But it was an easier climb than the last time I did it with the Queen.
After the climb HK jr made it known he would much rather head to the hotel than to see some dumb old ship. I told him the car was heading to the ship so he might as well get inside.
Sadly, the USS constitution was in dry dock for repairs so we couldn't go aboard. We did walk through the museum which was full of screaming children. I had seen it before so I spent some time on the phone while HK and HK jr looked at all the exhibits.
The ride to the hotel took a lot longer than expected because of afternoon traffic and, well Boston drivers. Amazingly, I did not kill any of them.
For dinner, we went to our favorite Dim Sum place, the Warner Cafe. We ordered more food than the last time and it still came out to be about ten bucks per person. I'm glad I don't live in this town because I would go there every day and weigh a thousand pounds.
Originally, I was just go to put HK and HK jr in a cab or on a bus to the airport for their departure, but I weakened and offered to drive them if they couldn't find another way of getting there. They couldn't find another way. But it wasn't too bad. There was an express carpool lane from basically our hotel through the Ted Williams Tunnel to the airport. If it took more than ten minutes to get there, it was"t by much.
I spent the rest of the day doing memory lane things. I popped into Harvard Yard to look at the school. I went by my grandfather's house to make sure it was still standing. I visited with my Aunt Eileen, where I was spending the night. I spent a lot of time talking with her. More time than I spend talking with anybody. I had lunch with my cousins from the McKenna side of the family. I had dinner with cousins from the Lynch side of the family. The dinner was at this monstrosity of a Chinese Restaurant, called Kowloon. It was two floors of Chinese kitsch. There must have been seating for a thousand at this place. Yes, I picked up the check to the confusion of my dinner mates.
Sunday, I was up at the crack for the drive to Findley Lake. Eight hours of excitement on the Mass Turnpike and the New York Thruway. On this journey, I've been marveling at how cheap gas is here on the East Coast. But they make up for that by making me pay to drive on the Freeways. I paid $12 bucks on the Mass Turnpike. I paid another $9 for the New York Thruway. Whatever I save in gas, I make up for in tolls.
Despite my no turning from the route policy, I opted to see Niagara Falls. It was only ten miles off my route and suddenly the car was making the left turn on the to the frontage road. It was a fine stop. Billions of people were there. The view, as they say, was pretty poor from the American side. I could have paid $28 bucks and taken the elevator to the base of the falls and gotten on the boat, but it was $28 to get on a boat. Plus the line was incredibly long. I should have brought the drone with me.
I drove an hour beyond my stop for the night at Findley Lakes. I was looking for this small route to the hotel. Well, I was looking for a bathroom, actually, and I pulled right by it. At the gas station where I stopped, Google Maps said it was only about fifteen miles to my destination. Great. After about thirty minutes of driving, I checked the map again and was informed, I was now 45 minutes from destination. Wait! What?
At the gas station, I had already passed my turn. It was fifteen miles behind me. So, I turned around and drove another forty five minutes to my lovely Holiday Inn Express out in the middle of nowhere. I passed several Holiday Inns on my way to the one I reserved for the night. Nothing like bonus driving after an eight hour day of driving.
Monday was more driving through Indiana, Ohio, and Illinois. There were more tolls and I'm having a problem getting cash since the Wells Fargo branches are few and far between or completely non-existent in this neck of the woods.
I'm learning all about service areas. If you are on a toll road, the game is not to take an actual exit and have to pay a toll. Then you get another ticket to get back on. So, on toll roads, I'm sure you all know this, they have service areas where there is food and gas and restrooms and it is all part of the toll road. And there is such great food at these service areas. Man, am I eating a lot of crap.
Monday's drive ended with me 7 miles from destination and according to Google Maps, my good friend, I only had another ninety minutes of driving. I learned later that 4 big rigs had crashed in front of me on the I-80 just outside of Joliet. I sat in the middle of corn fields for about thirty minutes.
And yes, since we were stopped and I am a fool, I launched the drone to take a picture of the line of semis in front of me. I had to hurry, since as soon as I did, the people around me got into there cars to take off. But they only took off to drive backwards up the on ramp. I followed them and made my escape to the side road. This road was packed but it did have the benefit of moving. It only took me another twenty minutes from there to get to my hotel, the lovely Fairfield Inn in Ottawa.
Tomorrow, Nebraska. Or today. The time change of gaining an hour by coming into central time has popped me awake early. The beautiful breakfast buffet won't be served until 6 and I'm eating before I get on the road.
Saying you are meeting someone on Beacon Street, in my estimation, was like saying you knew someone in Bel Air or atop Nob Hill. It just doesn't happen. But in this case it did. George Domolky owns the first floor of a three story apartment across the street from the Boston Gardens. It was quite the transition driving the mile from our hotel with it's transients and litter filled streets to the rarefied air of the Boston Garden.
It was the one day of rain, so I was pretty sure our interference for the morning was going to be thunder booming during all the recordings. But it wasn't the case. I had a bit of a problem getting to his house since there was a trick to getting there that wasn't on Google Maps and there were a lot of confusing one way streets. Turns out you needed to make the turn towards Storrow Dr and make a sharp right under the Arthur Fiedler overpass to get behind his apartment. All these words mean nothing to you.
Mr. Domolky was very gracious. Again, an 84 year old man apologized for not helping carry the heavy gear to the apartment. Meanwhile the 14 year old sought out the lightest thing he could carry.
The apartment was gorgeous, complete with a crystal chandelier over our filming area. Once we got all the gear in, I had to go take the car and park it under Boston Common since there was no parking near Domolky's house.
The interview went well. Mr. Domolky had some very good and clear opinions about Piller. He had some stories. He brought up the fact that his fencing sister was on a Hungarian stamp. She made it a point to send a letter to him with her stamp on it. We are interviewing Lidia when we get to Budapest. Domolky even had some good insights into Piller we hadn't heard before. But still nothing before the end of World War 2.
The only noise related issue was the people clogging in the apartment above us. Mr. Domolky told HK that they had just gotten into the apartment after the flood repair. A water main had broken or been left running in the apartment above them and flooded their apartment. As we wrapped up the interview, some contractors showed up to do some work. Mrs. Domolky couldn't get rid of us fast enough. Plus, they were heading to Cape Cod in the afternoon.
HK decided since there was a car and driver, namely me, that we all should go to see the USS Constitution. No problem. Except that HK jr would have preferred to be back in the hotel.
We got nice and lost on the way there. Since we drove by the Bunker Hill monument, we decided to stop in after lunch. As a quick note, maybe climbing the 300 odd steps to the top of the Bunker Hill monument after a full lunch at the Warren Tavern wasn't the best idea. But it was an easier climb than the last time I did it with the Queen.
After the climb HK jr made it known he would much rather head to the hotel than to see some dumb old ship. I told him the car was heading to the ship so he might as well get inside.
Sadly, the USS constitution was in dry dock for repairs so we couldn't go aboard. We did walk through the museum which was full of screaming children. I had seen it before so I spent some time on the phone while HK and HK jr looked at all the exhibits.
The ride to the hotel took a lot longer than expected because of afternoon traffic and, well Boston drivers. Amazingly, I did not kill any of them.
For dinner, we went to our favorite Dim Sum place, the Warner Cafe. We ordered more food than the last time and it still came out to be about ten bucks per person. I'm glad I don't live in this town because I would go there every day and weigh a thousand pounds.
Originally, I was just go to put HK and HK jr in a cab or on a bus to the airport for their departure, but I weakened and offered to drive them if they couldn't find another way of getting there. They couldn't find another way. But it wasn't too bad. There was an express carpool lane from basically our hotel through the Ted Williams Tunnel to the airport. If it took more than ten minutes to get there, it was"t by much.
I spent the rest of the day doing memory lane things. I popped into Harvard Yard to look at the school. I went by my grandfather's house to make sure it was still standing. I visited with my Aunt Eileen, where I was spending the night. I spent a lot of time talking with her. More time than I spend talking with anybody. I had lunch with my cousins from the McKenna side of the family. I had dinner with cousins from the Lynch side of the family. The dinner was at this monstrosity of a Chinese Restaurant, called Kowloon. It was two floors of Chinese kitsch. There must have been seating for a thousand at this place. Yes, I picked up the check to the confusion of my dinner mates.
Sunday, I was up at the crack for the drive to Findley Lake. Eight hours of excitement on the Mass Turnpike and the New York Thruway. On this journey, I've been marveling at how cheap gas is here on the East Coast. But they make up for that by making me pay to drive on the Freeways. I paid $12 bucks on the Mass Turnpike. I paid another $9 for the New York Thruway. Whatever I save in gas, I make up for in tolls.
Despite my no turning from the route policy, I opted to see Niagara Falls. It was only ten miles off my route and suddenly the car was making the left turn on the to the frontage road. It was a fine stop. Billions of people were there. The view, as they say, was pretty poor from the American side. I could have paid $28 bucks and taken the elevator to the base of the falls and gotten on the boat, but it was $28 to get on a boat. Plus the line was incredibly long. I should have brought the drone with me.
I drove an hour beyond my stop for the night at Findley Lakes. I was looking for this small route to the hotel. Well, I was looking for a bathroom, actually, and I pulled right by it. At the gas station where I stopped, Google Maps said it was only about fifteen miles to my destination. Great. After about thirty minutes of driving, I checked the map again and was informed, I was now 45 minutes from destination. Wait! What?
At the gas station, I had already passed my turn. It was fifteen miles behind me. So, I turned around and drove another forty five minutes to my lovely Holiday Inn Express out in the middle of nowhere. I passed several Holiday Inns on my way to the one I reserved for the night. Nothing like bonus driving after an eight hour day of driving.
Monday was more driving through Indiana, Ohio, and Illinois. There were more tolls and I'm having a problem getting cash since the Wells Fargo branches are few and far between or completely non-existent in this neck of the woods.
I'm learning all about service areas. If you are on a toll road, the game is not to take an actual exit and have to pay a toll. Then you get another ticket to get back on. So, on toll roads, I'm sure you all know this, they have service areas where there is food and gas and restrooms and it is all part of the toll road. And there is such great food at these service areas. Man, am I eating a lot of crap.
Monday's drive ended with me 7 miles from destination and according to Google Maps, my good friend, I only had another ninety minutes of driving. I learned later that 4 big rigs had crashed in front of me on the I-80 just outside of Joliet. I sat in the middle of corn fields for about thirty minutes.
And yes, since we were stopped and I am a fool, I launched the drone to take a picture of the line of semis in front of me. I had to hurry, since as soon as I did, the people around me got into there cars to take off. But they only took off to drive backwards up the on ramp. I followed them and made my escape to the side road. This road was packed but it did have the benefit of moving. It only took me another twenty minutes from there to get to my hotel, the lovely Fairfield Inn in Ottawa.
Tomorrow, Nebraska. Or today. The time change of gaining an hour by coming into central time has popped me awake early. The beautiful breakfast buffet won't be served until 6 and I'm eating before I get on the road.
As a matter of fact, my anger does keep me warm