A Massachusetts Manifestation: Part 1

My first job out of college took me on an unforgettable adventure. I visited 17 schools across 13 states and Canada. Trust me, it was a rollercoaster of late-nights, early morning flights, and countless Alani Nu’s.

In this series, I'm sharing travel stories from my time as a sorority consultant.

Are you ready to buckle up and join the ride?  

Xoxo, lala

Where’s a place you’re hoping to go to? 

I stared down at the booklet on the desk in front of me. We had gotten them as a memory keepsake, something to fill out and look back on while on the road. One of the pages had a map of the U.S. on it - as you travel, you color in the states you go to. 

This page was more of a fun questionnaire - how much did your suitcase weigh on the way here, who’s most likely to miss a flight, what restaurant chain you’re wanting to try, etc. 

I scanned through the places on my mental bucket list. It didn’t take long for one state in particular to jump out at me. Brown, orange, and red leaves flashed in my mind. I grabbed the pen on the table and scribbled down: 

Massachusetts in the fall. 

Honestly, I’m not sure where this desire came from. I hadn’t really been to the east coast much - minus a couple trips to New York City. I didn’t know much about Massachusetts. Other than its capital is Boston and the people there have an amazing accent. 

When we got our first round of schedules before hitting the road, the closest I was getting to the east coast was a school in southeast Missouri (not quite east coast.) 

I was wrapping up a visit to the University of British Columbia when I spotted something strange in one of my airline apps. 

A plane ticket to BOS. 

BOS as in Boston? I had been told I was flying into Lexington, Kentucky. 

This wasn’t unusual - your schedule was subject to change at all times and our travel agent was the one booking our tickets. Priorities change, and we were trained to change with them. 

Not long after this, my manager called me. She let me know I was, in fact, now going to Massachusetts. 

I was going to be in Cambridge, Massachusetts on October 10 - Massachusetts in the fall. 

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My flight from Cleveland to Boston was just under two hours. I was a mixture of exhaustion and excitement. Exhausted because it was an early morning flight - excited because I had manifested this visit. I was sure of it. 

An hour and a half after I landed, I was in Cambridge. I was dropped off at the chapter’s space, where another consultant was. She would be here with me for three days, transitioning me into the projects she was working on. 

That first night, her and I got dinner at The Maharaja, an Indian restaurant in Harvard Square. We split warm vegetable samosas and spiced chicken tikka masala. 

We caught up, exchanging both funny and not-so funny stories of our time on the road. This was her second time at Harvard, and she gave me the rundown on the location and what I needed to know. 

What I needed to know was that Tatte, Bluestone Lane, and Blue Bottle Coffee were the best coffee shops in Harvard Square. Pinocchio's Pizza was an iconic pizza place and we needed to go asap. 

The square had a subway station, but she found the buses much easier to use. The university was beautiful to go on walks around, but she also liked to walk along the Charles River. 

Of course, she also caught me up on work stuff. But that was the information I kept with me to survive. 

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The next day, we got breakfast at Bluestone Lane, sharing work ideas and coming up with game plans. 

We walked alongside the Charles on our lunch break, talking about things only the two of us could understand, as two girls on this crazy adventure. 

Later in the afternoon, we decided both the bus and subway were actually too confusing to figure out, so we walked 20 minutes to the nearest Trader Joe’s to pick up snacks for a work event we were hosting that night. We trudged through the uneven sidewalks, wheeling our laptop bags and struggling to carry the brown paper grocery bags. We were quite the sight to see. 

After our workday ended, we tried Pinocchio’s. Photos of Mark Zuckerberg lined the walls. I think that’s what made the place iconic - not so much the pizza, but rather the Facebook founder’s shrine. 

After she left for good, I focused on work and tried to ignore the familiar loneliness that came with life on the road. 

I still kept her recommendations in the back of my mind. If I had to meet up with someone, I’d suggest Blue Bottle as the meeting space. On my lunch break, I’d walk around campus, trying to remember the buildings she mentioned as her favorites. 

The first time I went on a walk around campus, I couldn't lie, I was star-struck. I mean, it is Harvard. 

The rust-colored brick buildings with the dark autumn leaves looked like an image straight off of a “dark academia” themed Pinterest board. It was undeniably breathtaking. 

Of course, I had to pay homage to the OG sorority girl, Elle Woods. I stopped in front of the Harvard Law School building, taking in the glass windows and giant pillars.

The front entrance to the building had a phrase in Latin etched into it: NON SVB HOMINE SED ​SVB DEO ET LEGE. 

“Not under man but God and Law.” What, like it’s hard to translate Latin? 

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On my last night in Cambridge, I had one last thing I had been dying to do while in Massachusetts:

Try a lobster roll in New England. 

Once I wrapped up work, I walked around the corner and down the block, my boots scuffing on the rainy sidewalk. 

Harvard Square at night was much quieter than during the day. The students were in for the night. The tourists too. There weren’t nearly as many cars and buses. 

I stepped in front of the restaurant, closing my umbrella and shaking the raindrops off. 

Once inside, the hostess asked for how many. 

“Just…one.” 

Table for one. Humbling. 

I sat at my table quietly, placing my order once the waiter came around. Suddenly, I started to feel insecure about being at a restaurant alone. 

Should I call someone? Facetime? Who would be free on a Thursday night at 8:30 p.m? 

My thoughts were interrupted by a plate, now thrust in my view.

“Here’s the lobster roll, miss.” 

The waiter placed the dish in front of me. The lobster was spilling out of the toasted bun. A lemon wedge was off to the side, waiting to be squeezed. 

“Thank you.” I smiled.

The lobster roll was absolutely delicious. 

It was the perfect send-off meal to a visit I had planted into the universe through pen and paper. 

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