Posts Tagged With: parking in Boston

Day 2505: It all worked out

When things are challenging at work and elsewhere, I like to share my personal epic stories with my fiancé, Michael.

Michael (who until recently was just my boyfriend) used to respond — after I had finished weaving my latest saga of ups and downs, twists and turns, backs and forths, and tos and fros — like so:

Everybody loves you, Ann.

Maybe because we’re all sadder and wiser these days (as we realize that not EVERYBODY loves us), Michael’s go-to response to my personal stories is now this:

It all worked out.

“It all worked out” as a response to my stories evokes ups and downs, twists and turns, backs and forths, and tos and fros in me, including:

  • laughter,
  • annoyance,
  • calm,
  • mind-reading,
  • agreement,
  • worry that my story might not have been as riveting in the telling as I had hoped,
  • acceptance,
  • sarcasm,
  • epiphanies, and
  • often a resolution to tell the same story to somebody who was there or who knows the people who were there (because, as they say, “you had to be there”).

Yesterday, I told Michael that my next blog post was going to be titled “It all worked out.”  We’ll see how that works out.

Last night,  I went to the 25th anniversary of Cam Neely‘s huge charity event, Comics Come Home, at the Boston Garden.  I had some anxiety and worry about parking and getting to the venue, where I was meeting Julie, one of my co-workers.

This anxiety and worry seemed well founded when I encountered troubling signs at the parking garage where I had pre-paid for a space through the app Park Whiz.




It appeared that I was going to have to pay $36 – $48 to get my car out, after paying $17 last week to Park Whiz to reserve a space at this garage.  I called the phone number in the Park Whiz app and reached a nice human being who told me that, when I returned from the event at the Garden, I should buzz the attendant who should let me out. SHOULD, I thought, wondering how this was going to work out.

I then worked my way over to the Boston Garden through twists and turns, backs and forths, and tos and fros, as Google Maps gave me confusing and sometimes incorrect information.  (I am thankful there were minimal ups and downs, because I do not like working out on hills.)  When Google Maps was telling me that I was still a five-minute walk away from the Garden, I asked two nearby policeman, “This may be a stupid question, but where’s The Garden?”  As I expected, they pointed and replied, “It’s right here.”  Then, when I told the security people at the doors that I had a pacemaker, they worked it out so I could avoid the metal detectors, which can make pacemakers stop working correctly. Soon I was back inside the Garden, where I had seen Larry Bird, Robert Parish, and the other Boston Celtics work out so many wins during the 1980s.









It might be difficult to work out from those photos that the comedians last night included host Denis Leary, Bill Burr, Steven Wright, Pete Holmes, John MulaneyLenny Clarke, and Kelly MacFarland (who WORKED it, girl!).

After the amazing show, my co-worker Julie accompanied me back to the parking garage because neither of us were sure how this was going to work out.  We buzzed the attendant, who said he could NOT let me out and that I was going to have to pay full price and settle up with Park Whiz.  When we argued with him, he hung up on us.  I called Park Whiz again and when I started to explain the situation, a different nice human being on the other end asked, “Is this Ann?”  She apologized for the hassle and told me that they had spoken to management of the garage and that they were supposed to let me out.  Then I lost phone reception with her.  Julie contacted the attendant again and the nice Park Whiz person called me back and asked if she could somehow talk to the attendant. As I was trying to work this out, I heard the parking attendant say this to Julie through the intercomm:

You know what? I’m sick of this!  People are telling me different things. I’ll just let you out. Okay?  Bring your car around.  I’ll recognize you.

I got into my little yellow car, drove to the exit, and, after a few moments, the unseen parking attendant lifted the gate so I could work my way out. After driving into better phone reception, I called Park Whiz again. It was after midnight, past the time the first nice Park Whiz person had said they would still be answering the phones.  However, I easily reached more nice people, who apologized for the confusion and the miscommunications and who gave me a credit for future Park Whiz bookings.

Julie insisted on working her way home via an Uber, refusing my offers to drive her there.  Later, I texted her this:

Thank you so much!  You are my hero!

She replied:

Thanks for a fun night!

I look forward to seeing her tomorrow, back at work.

When I got home to Michael last night, the first thing I said to him was, “It all worked out.”

Here‘s Denis Leary working it out in a song he performed last night with The Enablers.


That’s how they work things out in Boston.

Thanks to all who help me work things out at this daily blog, including YOU.




Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 29 Comments

Day 2225: Small Mouth Sounds

Yesterday, for my birthday, I saw a great production of the wonderful play Small Mouth Sounds, about a group of six people at a silent retreat.

Before the play started, my boyfriend Michael made a small mouth sound when he noticed the incredible coincidence of his twin brother (who never goes to the theater) attending the same performance of the play.  About 40 minutes into the play,  I made a small mouth sound when I realized that I had neglected to leave my car key with the valet at the parking garage which was a twenty-minute walk away from the theater.  I made several small mouth sounds as I wrestled with the decision of whether to disturb people in the theater to try to contact the parking garage or to stay in my seat and allow my keyless car to perhaps create havoc where I had left it.

Michael and I made small mouth sounds as we communicated silently about my dilemma, echoing the action in the play, where the characters had taken a vow of silence for a five-day mindfulness retreat. Michael mouthed and gestured “Call them!”  It took me ten minutes to decide what to do while my brain made small sounds (interfering with my ability to hear the small sounds of the play) like these:

How could I have done that?  Why am I realizing NOW that I forgot to leave the key? Wouldn’t it have been more effective if that thought had occurred to me during our long and circuitous walk to the theater?  Could it have been the fear of being late for the play or the distraction of immediately being asked directions by another theater goer who was also confused about where the play was and who accompanied us on our search for the location? Why didn’t the parking valet run after us after realizing that I had forgotten to leave the key? Why haven’t they tried to contact me through the parking app? Have they towed my car?  Is this going to ruin my or anybody else’s day?  How do I get out of this long row of people and unobtrusively leave the theater when the audience is staring at each other across the center stage and the actors are maintaining such a delicate and effective balance of comedy and tragedy in this almost-silent 110-minute play without an intermission?

Eventually, I made the smallest sounds possible leaving the theater and contacting the parking garage, finally reaching somebody who made small and kind mouth sounds reassuring me that my car and everything else was okay.

After the play, Michael and his twin brother made small mouth sounds telling me what I had missed during my absence, including the cute guy in the play getting completely naked.  I made a small mouth sound indicating that I thought they were kidding, but they weren’t.

Michael and I made our way back to the parking garage, making small mouth sounds all the way. There, the nice parking attendant, who had made small mouth sounds with me on the phone, told me I had left the car running, so the valet had no trouble parking it and getting it out of the way.  While he was talking to us about this, he made a small mouth sound when he was informed that SOMEBODY ELSE had just left the parking garage without leaving their key.  Because that car wasn’t running, somebody ran after that other forgetful parker, making large mouth sounds to call him back.

Then, Michael and I went to my favorite restaurant, Bistro 5, where I made small mouth sounds eating the 5-course chocolate tasting menu. I hope that didn’t disturb Michael, who probably has the genetic tendency of being bothered by the small mouth sounds of other people chewing food.

You may make small mouth sounds when you look at my latest photos:














I look forward to using that gift from Michael of the USB microphone to record the small mouth sounds of my original songs.

I also look forward to seeing my friend and comedian’s comedian Ron Lynch in L.A. at his Tomorrow Show on March 3. Here  and here are YouTube videos of Ron and audience members making many mouth sounds at the Bridgetown Comedy Festival.

I’ll be making small mouth sounds of appreciation for any comment you leave, below.

I’m now making large mouth sounds of gratitude for all who helped me create this post and — of course!  — YOU.


Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

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