12:36 TO BOSTON

About noon today, we set out to find the Beverly stop and conquer the train.  The plan was to catch the 12:36, ride to North Station; take the Orange line to State Street and then Blue to the Aquarium.  We agreed ahead of time that we would define success as getting on to begin with and getting back home.  Any other achievements would be considered fortuitous, but not necessary to the final celebration.  Our first break was to find an even closer stop at Montserrat, barely 5 minutes from the house.  We got ticketing info from other passengers, climbed the icy platform and boarded the train. 

üObjective number one successfully completed

At North Station, we exited the terminal and entered the building next door for the underground, color-coded portion of the trip, an icy, windy 35 steps.  At this point, I began rearranging my wardrobe.  The understated, faux-cashmere scarf that I had insouciantly draped across my shoulders hiked up over my head, giving me the look of an elderly immigrant who probably has a great recipe for cabbage soup.  I need longer sleeves, warmer gloves and a serious hat.

Good signage and Hubby’s advanced research brought us directly to the Aquarium – no sweat, so we braved the elements again and walked a short block to Legal Seafood for lunch.  After enjoying incredible food, and a visit with a 15.8 lb lobster (112 years old, $274 cooked any way you want it) we set out on the return trip, feeling like kings of the world.  When we arrived at North Station, we discovered that the commuter trains do not run as frequently on Sunday, so we had to hunker down for a two hour wait.  So much for advanced research…Ugh!

*****And then it happened*****

North Station is tucked beneath a sports venue called the “Garden”; evidently the home of the Bruins and Celtics, if the giant posters are to be believed.  Cavernous and spare, the station is the utilitarian hub for northbound commuter traffic, but about 45 minutes before our train was scheduled, the escalators came alive with Princesses.  The rainbow of acetate gowns and showers of glitter didn’t initially signal anything momentous, but then we saw the crowns – with mouse ears.  Yep – Disney…on Ice.  North Station fairly seethed with little girls.  We saw Belle and Cinderella, Jasmine and Ariel all dressed to the nines, in WINTER finery.  Snow White wore Ugg boots and Pippi’s longstockings under her frock; Tinkerbell accessorized with ladybug Wellies and fuzzy mittens.  Sleeping Beauty’s curls were tucked under some type of Peruvian knit bonnet with yarn braids tumbling over her shoulders.  Of course, not all of the Princesses were in commercial garb.  Many were free-styling: tutus and Christmas dresses and all descriptions of flounces and ruffles, satin and tulle.  I was in awe.  Heck, the sheer number of magic wands with flashing stars ensured that the place was enchanted!!

Eventually, our train was called, and we boarded with our royal coachmates for a pretty uneventful ride back to Montserrat.  We arrived to find the landscape wrapped elegantly in the snow you have been seeing on the news.  We stomped through the 4 – 5 inches that had accumulated in our six hours away to find the Yukon, buried.  Driving home, we followed tracks in the snow to identify the roads, but arrived safe and relatively dry.  Jeans and sox in the dryer; coats and scarves hanging on hooks by the back door; middle-aged bodies cuddled up in flannel jammies and warm slippers. 

üObjective number two successfully completed