I arrived in Boston on Sunday morning in the midst of a storm. Well, two storms actually. A torrential downpour washed over the area while I was still about an hour outside of the city. The deluge became so severe that police were dispatched to block lanes of the highway so cars wouldn’t drive through the lakes that were forming on the roads. At one point, the rain was so thick that all I could see was the red brake lights of stopped traffic.

The second storm I came upon once I reached my destination. September 1st in Boston is Moving Day the same way April 15th is Tax Day. Everyone’s rushed, anxious and a little nuts. I now live in Allston, a nest for all the newly arrived college students, with its central location between Harvard, BU and BC (among others). My move-in along with my 3 new roommates went relatively quick, though we did have to pick our moments to strike.

After dropping off my boxes and clothes in the new apartment, I drove my rental car back to the airport. Other than a couple of missed turns and the absolute bollocks idea of driving into Brooklyn on the Saturday night before Labor Day, this road trip couldn’t have gone any smoother, a considerable contrast to my previous road trip. The car was returned without a scratch, I never once ran out of gas, and I didn’t have to soothe myself to sleep with Sigur Rós while huddling for warmth in the back seat. Overall, a success.

That success of my latest cross-country road trip is undeniably due to the many friends I’ve made over the years who provided me meals, whiskey and places to stay along the way. So many great friends who are really my extended family. I don’t list names here, but I hope they know who they are.

Of course, my entire life is a cross-country road trip, and a lengthy portion of my excursion has just begun.

Boston. City 9. Year 9. “Before me stretches the portentous mesmerizing road of a new year.”

Let’s begin.