The opposite of a case of the Mondays.

The World Trade Center Boston and part of Boston Bay. Not the best photo but all I had was my phone.

It’s 7:15am and I am in a Boston hotel room, seated in a chair which I’ve turned to face the window, my feet on the ledge, looking over Boston Harbor. We slept with the curtains open since the water is most of what’s out the window and all evening and into the overnight watched planes take off and land across the bay at Logan. I am watching Monday morning air traffic now; the planes of business travelers heading diagonally up into the sky and onward. Last night we watched all the little specks of light coming from each direction of the night sky make their way to the same spot in the air where the planes would line up and take turns landing. We watched as the specks, a common sight on any night, lowered and turned from indiscernible dots to winged planes as they sped down the runway. (A less common sight.)

That’s what happening out and across and up. Below me, trucks bearing company names like The Clam Man, Atlantic Coast Banquet and Constitution Seafoods are heading onto and parking along the fishing boat-lined piers. At first I thought I had missed the morning boat traffic (arriving late as I did at 7:15) but now I realize that this is a delivery point for the boats and these trucks are coming to pick up their share of the catch that came in overnight (hence all the boats that that weren’t docked when we went to bed last night being there now) to bring to restaurants and markets and wherever else fish is sold. A swarm of Seagulls gather in the sky over men driving forklifts, moving giant crates and packing the trucks. Whether there is an open-air fish market or some sort of regulatory process going on inside the long brick buildings which line the pier, I am unsure, but I would like nothing more than to go down and poke around. Out in the bay, fishing boats of all sizes are passing through, heading out to the Atlantic or wherever fishermen go on a Monday morning. (How I would love to observe the Monday morning routine of a fisherman.)

In the hotel lobby, travelers are getting their morning coffee and across the street suited men and women are heading into the World Trade Center Boston.

I am at this window, computer in my lap, latte on the table next to me doing one of my favorite things; watching a city wake up.

Dan was scheduled to stay in Boston last night in order to make an early conference at the Seaport World Trade Center this morning and when his co-worker bailed on staying the night, he asked me to join him. We arrived here in the late afternoon yesterday, still able to enjoy the 70-degree weather. We happened upon a Christmas Festival and sampled soups and dips and shared a cranberry pistachio scone as we walked the aisles of artists’ booths, homemade jewelry, food stalls, Christmas crafts and more. For dinner we had clam chowder, calamari served with hot pepper relish, sweet and spicy chicken lollipops and pulled pork sliders served on cornbread with a glass of wine (me) and a Dark ‘n Stormy (Dan). We ate early watching the sky darken over the water and caught the end of the Patriots game on TV. Tired from travel (we jaunted down to RI the day before and got the car fixed, my hair cut and saw relatives from both of our families in less than 24 hours), we headed up to our room and marveled at the fact that 5:15 feels like 10pm with the darkness coming so early. We both worked for a bit, watched a movie (Angels and Demons not Debbie Does Dallas), ordered a brownie sundae to the room and spent a night in a hotel Dan and Lola style.

I almost didn’t join Dan, feeling like I needed the night at home especially since sisters #3 and #4 and GBFFE (gay best friend forever extraordinaire, Mattie for the new readers---did you notice the member count is up to 18?!) are coming up today for a few nights. But I am so, so glad I didn’t pass up the opportunity to live a night and a morning and a day (I’m working here until 2pm) totally differently than every other. A Sunday night and a Monday morning are typically spent the same way, week after week. When I looked out the window last night and this morning, everything felt different and was different. I love that.

I love hotel living---new cities, sampling new shampoos, new views---and I would like it to make up a larger percentage of my life. Last night as Dan and I worked---me on my laptop, Dan on the hotel desktop---a Sunday night lineup of classical music on the radio, I realized I was living one of my fantasies for just a night. Part of the dream for me is that Dan and I travel around city to city on book tours, romping around by day, attending book discussions in the evening and having hotel slumber parties and writing by windows at night. Last night I got a taste of it. Glad I didn’t opt to just clean the apartment instead.

Dan and I headed down for breakfast before his meeting. When I got back I made the call, asking for a later check-out so I didn’t have to rush out. I’m planning to hang out in the room (it really is a great view) writing for the day. Maybe I’ll order some coffee, a little lunch. Maybe I’ll even see how Debbie’s doing in Dallas.