My husband, Paul, and I recently took a day trip to Boston. Since I had slept nearly the entire train ride from Portland, coffee was the first item on our agenda when we arrived in the city.
Paul and I made our way to the Boston Public Market. We like to take an annual trip to the Hub each summer, and had gone to the market in 2015, but it was closed on Tuesdays at that point. We were happy that, this year, it’s open every day.
Everything at the market is locally made or grown. I immediately spotted a doughnut stand. I enjoy a well-made doughnut from time to time; or, more precisely, a piece of Paul’s doughnut. These were gourmet treats, with flavors like “Vanilla Bean.” Paul stayed to order a doughnut and I went to the next aisle to get my beverage.
I asked for an iced coffee with room for cream. The young man behind the cash register said, “We’re out of cream.” I then noticed a handwritten sign affixed to the counter that said, “Sorry we’re out of cream!”
“Well, do you have anything else to put in it?”
“We have milk.”
OK, that was fine. In fact, they also had soy milk, which was even better. Both coffee and doughnut were delicious, or, as I like to say, “worth the calories.”
We proceeded on to the Boston Public Library, where we toured the so-called “People’s Palace,” and had lunch in its magnificent courtyard. Next, we visited the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum on the Fenway. This is one of my favorite places in Boston, but we hadn’t visited it since it underwent a major expansion and renovation. We were not disappointed.
It was time to head back to North Station. I was thirsty, so we stopped at an Au Bon Pain café for a snack. I ordered an iced coffee. There was a self-serve urn next to the soda dispenser. I placed my cup under the ice spigot, but nothing happened. Was it motion-sensitive? I waved my cup around. Nothing.
I decided to put a little iced coffee in my cup. Maybe the urn kept it cold. I tasted it and it was cool enough for me. I don’t like freezing-cold beverages. A man arrived beside me and tried to dispense ice. No cubes fell. “I think it’s broken,” I told him unhelpfully. He called for help. The cashier came over and said, “Sometimes you have to hit it.”
I waited a moment to see if perhaps I could get a couple of ice cubes, but the darn thing wouldn’t budge. When I went to sit down, she was still hitting it, and I think I heard a crash that either indicated icy success or the demise of the ice dispenser.
We had a light supper and boarded the train. After we passed Haverhill, I decided I wanted a cup of coffee. The nice young man in the café car discovered he was out of coffee and had to make a new pot. He apologized for the wait, and said he wouldn’t charge me for the coffee. I thanked him and gave him a generous tip. We made small talk while the coffee was brewing. Then he poured me about 3/4 of a large cup. “We’ve run out of lids,” he said, apologetically. “I can give you a little more, but I don’t want you to spill it…”
“That’s fine, “ I said. “I’m a bit of a klutz, so I don’t need any more than that.”
What are the chances that there would be malfunctions at every place I bought coffee? I can’t even remember if I’ve ever before had a barista tell me there was no more cream. Ice machines can be troublesome, I will admit. But every gas station mini-mart in the country has thousands of coffee cup lids in stock. Maybe Amtrak should find out how they do it.
I just haven’t had many coffee issues at all in my life. There was the time the Coolatta machine at Dunkin' Donuts broke down, but I didn’t let that ruin my day. I once asked Paul to pick up a $1 iced coffee at McDonald’s for me (I was studying for a big test). He came home with the drink and said, “You told me $1. That was more like $2.40!”
I looked at the cup. “Yep. That’s what the price is at Dunkin’ Donuts.”
It was interesting to me that there was no problem at all with my lunch beverage in Boston, which was lemonade. Hmm….maybe the universe was trying to tell me to drink less coffee.
My father affectionately called my mother “the coffee hound” because of her love of java. As I approach my dotage, I understand why she needed the energy boost. But the sad fact is, I can drink a cup of coffee as a car passenger and fall asleep fifteen minutes later. The motion of the vehicle lulls me into slumberland, and even caffeine can’t save me.
We saw some beautiful architecture and amazing art work in Boston. We enjoyed watching people, and ate good food. Everything went the way we planned it—except for my coffee conundrums. But what good is travel without a little adventure?
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