Boston Rant

We live in the 'burbs.

We live 20 miles outside of Boston, and my husband happily makes that commute to work on the "Mass Turnpike" every day.

We chose to live outside of Boston, because living IN Boston isn't the most ideal situation for a family with children.

We wanted a big house with an open yard, and lots of room for our children to play in.

Also, parking in Boston is absolutely horrendous.

HORRENDOUS.

Not to mention, it is inevitable that at some point while you are parallel parked (because that's the only kind of parking in Boston), your car will be hit.

And no, people in Boston do not have the common courtesy to leave a nice little note with their phone number and insurance info on your windshield.

My poor husband's truck has taken a beating in Boston.

I don't drive outside of the metro west area (where we live) to go to Boston.

I avoid it at all costs.

The VERY FEW times that I have taken the plunge to drive into "the city", my anxiety flares up, and I become an unhappy and angry person.

I like my comfy bubble here in the 'burbs where I don't have to worry about parallel parking, and I don't have to worry about jerks.

I don't have to walk everywhere because parking is never an issue.

I can drive my happy self anywhere I want without having to worry about taking the dreaded public transportation system.

Last night, I had to drive into Boston alone with two kids to pick up my husband from the airport.

According to my GPS, it was supposed to take 43 minutes to get to the airport from my house.

Ninety minutes later with a screaming baby and bumper to bumper traffic, I made it to the airport in tears while shaking.

Never have I encountered so many selfish and inconsiderate people on the road than I have in Boston.

There was an instance where I was trying to move over into the left lane (in traffic) because I didn't have an EZ Pass for the toll booth.

There was a gentleman in a Mercedes next to me, so I rolled my window down and pleaded with him to let me in.

He looked straight at me, gave me the look of death, shook his head no, and inched up as close as he could to the car in front of him so that I wouldn't even think to get in front of him.

Five cars later, a woman in a minivan (thank God for moms in minivans) let me in.

Jerks I tell you.

I hate Boston.

I needed a Xanax and a new duty station last night.

Rant Over.

Sorry honey, but next time, you're finding your own way home from the airport.

This mama ain't doing that again.