The Other Side

Here it is, the other side. The other side of traveling, of quitting a “safety net” job, of no income for over two months.

While I was in Budapest, I had a panic attack. It was the only one I had on the trip and I haven’t had one since. Leading up to the attack, I kept wondering when “it” would happen. If I would be in public, what would trigger the attack, if I would continue having them throughout the whole trip. Thankfully, I had only one panic attack for the whole entire trip and after, it was as if my mind and body had completed the detox. Being cleansed of a semi-toxic environment and in a space of pure enjoyment.

And now, I’m back. I’ve moved across the country for a second time and I’m trying to find a job. Although the panic hasn’t returned, it is whispering at the edges of my mind, trying to regain control. Part of me is expecting it to come back, swinging hard. The fact of the matter is that I’ve remembered what it’s like to not live in a state of expectant terror, waiting for the next panic attack. I’ve created a mindset that allows me to live without fear. I’ve been able to learn how to better balance what I know logically and how I feel, emotionally. I’ve learned that it’s ok to be both logical and emotional and it’s possible to be both in the same exact moment.


“How long have you been traveling for?”

“A little over a week..”

“Do you like it so far?”

“It’s…well…harder than I expected….”

“Have you traveled before?”

“Yeah..I took a year off in college and lived in Denmark for 10 months.”

“Ok so you know what its like.”

“This time it’s different. I’ve been having anxiety, mostly about money because that’s where the majority of my anxiety comes from….and I want to go home.”

“Sounds rough. It get’s better. I know it’s a cliche, but there are ups and downs. Everyone has them when traveling so you aren’t alone in that. Just be the cliche and go out there and meet people.”

“I’ve been trying…”

“Well, do something. If you remember anything from the New Zealand guy in Budapest, he said to..”

“…do shit?”

“Yeah. Do shit.”

I’ve often heard stories of people making changes in their lives to follow their dreams and essentially every time, it all works out so well for them. They don’t seem to have any difficulties or if they do, its minor and “all worth it in the end.” Coming into this trip, I was hoping that because I was leaving a job that I didn’t love and a life that wasn’t ideal to do something I’ve always dreamed about, it would be easy. That somehow the universe, fates, God would smile kindly on me and say “Hey! This is so exciting. Here’s safe and easy passage to the other side.” Not so.

About a week in, I discovered that one of the hostels I had reserved was listed as “No longer available” on Hostelworld (great site for finding hostels, btw). I sent an email to the email address provided, hoping against all hope that I’d get a response by the end of the day. By the time I returned to my hostel that evening, I hadn’t. So I decided to cancel the reservation and work something else out. I was able to make my itinerary just as good, if not better. Then I started thinking, “Ok Jenna, is this going to cost any more than I had thought.” I did the math, it was roughly the same cost. But then I started to panic.

A panic attack is essentially an unexpected, overwhelming sense of fear that’s crippling. I can’t move, I have trouble breathing, I sweat. I think the world is ending. Sometimes, I’m able to sense that one’s about to start and I’m able to breathe through it so that I don’t reach the stage of almost uncontrollable sobbing. Even then, my chest is tight and the world darkens. I honestly couldn’t tell you what causes my panic attacks. I think they often have to do with money, nothing specific about money, just money.

The first panic attack I ever had was the summer in between my junior and senior years in college. I got off the phone with mom, we had been talking about how it was almost time for me to pay for my car insurance and I started panicking. Sitting on the floor in the kitchen, unable to move, sobbing, sweating. That next year in college, I started saving money like nothing else mattered. Kept myself on a strict budget of only having $100 in my checking account per pay period (every 2 weeks). Thankfully, I had a group of friends who liked to go to the cheap movie theater or spend nights in. I had a few moments of panic, nothing as drastic, which gave me hope. After graduating and moving to New Hampshire, I thought I would be ok. I was able to [barely] make ends meet and I hoped that I would find something soon that would let me save money. I didn’t find anything better and the few friends I did have were having trouble of their own. I started to withdraw. I guess I was depressed but never severe enough to cause me to miss work or not get up in the morning. Life slowed down, almost to a standstill, nights were restless, days were slow, and the panic attacks grew more numerous.

One day I was told I was getting promoted, I had interviewed a month or so before and had been told “Wait.” It was a relatively unexpected promotion but with an added pay raise which meant money into savings. Life began to shift. The few toxic people I had been spending time with were cut out and slowly I started saving. The panic attacks lessened, making occasional appearances. And I realized that, if I allowed myself, I would be able to travel. So I started looking for plane tickets. From Boston to anywhere, anytime. Anything that got me thinking of something, anything else. It helped. I made a few good friends and spent time with them. Became more open with the people at work that I enjoyed talking with so I’d have people to talk to. Bought a one way plane ticket. Started planning. Realized that a good way to help me deal with my anxiety and panic attacks was to just do something little. Make small steps in a direction of something I wanted to do. Spend a few hours at the local coffee shop, drinking coffee, eating scones and looking on Pinterest. Taking care of my friends dogs. Get lunch with a friend. My load became lighter.

I hoped when I left, my load would be gone because I was finally doing something I’ve always wanted to do. I’d spent a year planning and getting ready and here I was, ready. Ready to take a few small challenges, to learn to be more confident in myself. Ready to learn to be alone. And the load stayed with me. The darkness didn’t lift. I got to Copenhagen and it was still there, clouding over me, threatening to never leave.

My last night in Budapest, I had another panic attack. I had already decided to cut my trip short and had spent the day trying to cancel plane tickets and hostels for the last month of the trip. I even decided to shorten my time in the places I was already going, in an attempt to spend less money but still see places I wanted to see. And still the panic attack. And I still worry. I worry that I’m still taking to much time, that I’ve miscalculated something. But I must continue.

Last night, I fully intended to stay at my hostel and get lost somewhere in YouTube. But I didn’t. I drank elderberry Fanta, tried homemade Serbian alcohol, and walked to the top of a hill with people I’ve never met to watch the sunset over Novi Sad. Cliche things. Small things. Because that is how I have to handle my anxiety. My panic attacks. They aren’t going to leave me just because I flew across the ocean.

Fear; an Intro

I type in “Fear Quotes” on Pinterest and one of the first quotes that pops up goes a little something like this; “Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear.” I smile knowingly, glance up briefly from my iPad and shake my head.

The edge of fear is standing on a cliff, miles in the air and the knot in my stomach at the knowledge that I have to jump off. The knot rises in my troat as I get closer to the edge. No matter how many times I tell myself that the path at the bottom of the cliff will be far better than anything I’ve just experienced doesn’t erase the comfort I feel with two feet on the ground. I think I can handle the heartache and pain I’ll go through if I stay because I know what to expect. Yes, heartache and pain will be there at the bottom but they, I, will be different. As long as I jump.

Just over two months. The amount of time I’ll be jumping. There have been moments over the past year and a half where I thought I wouldn’t be able to make the leap.  But here I am, less than a week out and I’m preparing to make the jump. This trip is going to be life changing. I can’t expect it not to be.

Some of you are here because you’re family and you’re worried about me. Some of you because you want to live vicariously through me. And others because I know how to use a good hashtag. For those, and other reasons, you are here and here is where I want you. This is where I’ll record my journey in one of the best ways I know how, writing. And to start off, let me introduce myself.

My name is Jenna, I’m getting lost somewhere in my 20’s and no matter where I happen to be living at the time, I will always be from Maine. The first trip I took to Europe was in high school. I went to prep school and was in a music group (English Hand Bells for those of you curious enough to google it). Every two years our director did tours and my sophomore year, we went to Poland, Czech Republic and Slovakia. Ever since then, I’ve wanted to go back. During college, I took a year off and volunteered at a school in Denmark for 10 months. I thought, somewhere in the middle of those months, that my wanderlust would be (at least semi) cured when I got home. I was, happily, wrong. The past few years, I’ve graduated from college, moved across the country, been challenged in so many ways, and still I know there is something missing. I watch the world around me and talk to people I’ve met and I realize that I have this great opportunity to travel. Not only am I young and single, I don’t own anything, I live with family and I work in food service. Seeing the way our world is, I have come to the belief that so many of the problems we’ve created could be resolved by simply doing our utmost to understand others by taking a moment to lay down our egos and preconceptions, walk in their shoes and listen to their stories.

I’ve struggled a lot the past few months with a lot of fear and perceiptions of my own of what my life needed to look like, whether it had to do with my job, how much I made, or my propensity torwards singleness. Perceptions that have held me back from following my dreams of travel and I’ve finally come to a place where I’ve overcome fear and am ready to step off the cliff. Fear can only control what I allow it to control and I’m done letting it control me.

So welcome, whoever you are, for whatever reason you are here. It’s going to be a great journey.

the beginning

I’ve had several people ask me how it is that I’m affording four months of travel. And really, I shouldn’t be surprised because, a year ago, I was asking the same question. But now, with a dream I’ve had for so long actually coming into being, I’m surprised.  I wish it were as simple as “I’ve been saving money since college,” and when it comes to how I’m financially paying for this trip, it really is that simple. But how I’m affording this trip is much more complicated and difficult than “I saved.”

Life is complex. Doing something, like taking a four month trip, is never as simple as having the money for it. There’s always something to consider; having a job, an apartment lease, a significant other, furniture, stuff. When it comes to stuff, life has been easy on me. I live with my family, I don’t own furniture and dating has been a relatively foreign concept. Everything I own can fit in my Honda Accord. I work at Starbucks, which for some, is a career and many others, just a layover. I’ve always known that the space I currently exist in is easily vacated.  Simply put, there should be nothing keeping me where I am. Except there has been. Myself.

When fighting against something to become better, to prove stronger, the fight doesn’t always seem black or white.  Everyone, on some level, has experienced hell. Whether that be because of someone else’s view shoved on them or from themselves. The past year has required me to walk through a version of hell, challenging thought patterns and behaviors.  It may sound simple but the way it happened, the restless nights and the panic attacks, brought more stress than you may realize. Because of the place I was in, mentally/emotionally etc, I wasn’t able to be any where else. I had to struggle with life and perceptions to be able to afford where I am. Being able to afford this trip isn’t as simple as having the money.  It’s about being in a place where I’m confident in going.

And that is just the beginning.

Florentine Cafe and the Secret of Eating Alone

I wish I could tell you what the secret is to eating alone.  Quite frankly, I haven’t mastered the art after several years of doing it.  Most likely due, in part, to the simple fact that when I do eat alone, I go to the run-of-the-mill fast food joints and avoid anything that seems to fancy. Even when traveling alone, I frequented coffee shops that sell food as a side thought or the local fast-food type Italian place.

I’m sitting in a cafe on Hanover street in the North End of Boston.  Florentine Cafe.  It took about ten minutes of walking back and forth in front of several other cafe’s before walking into this one.  Why didn’t I go in the others?  A combo of how much they cost and being terrified of the people watching me.  I stared at the menu for what felt like another five minutes but was probably less than a minute.  I walked in.

“There’s no hostess.  F***.  What do I do?” I glanced with uncertainty to the guys at the bar.  “Here to eat?” “Yeah.” “How many?” Oh that semi-dreaded question. “Just one,” I managed, holding my index finger to my lips.  “Ok. You can pick a table.” “Oh, now I gotta choose.” I choose a table at the wall, furthest from the door with a good view of the rest of the cafe.  My server, a tall, well-built gentleman with a soft accent, brings my menu and asks if I want something to drink, filling the glass on the table with water. “Water’s fine.”  He drops off a basket of bread and a bottle of olive oil with garlic, rosemary and what looks like pepper.  I order penne with grilled eggplant and some sort of cheese and nibble on the bread while I wait, tearing bits off to dip in the oil.  All the while, I feel hyper-aware of the glances in my direction, questioning the fact that I’m alone.

Normally I avoid eggplant.  It’s one of those foods that lives in my weird texture category.  There’s only been one time I’ve eaten eggplant and enjoyed it.  It was a Greek restaurant, Taverna Hellas, in Vejle, Denmark along the walking street.  They have a veggie platter with an assortment of food from grape leaves to salad.  And the eggplant! It was fried to a crisp in paper-thin circles with bread crumbs clinging to the sides.  It was beautiful.

My server deposits my plate in front of my.  “Cheese?” He asks, a spoon full of parmesan poised over a small bowl. There were already several pieces of cheese in the dish.  “Yes, please.”

I stopped noticing the questioning glances.

Penne was cooked to perfection.  Eggplant was just the right size. Just enough tomato sauce.  And cheese.  I eat slowly, enjoying each bite.  The slightly smokey flavor of the eggplant.  The mild finish of the cheese.

I’ve lived my life searching for meaning in a way that wouldn’t bring attention to me or what I’m doing.  I watch others from the shadows and do things in such a way that doesn’t bring attention.  Coupled with society saying that lunch dates are meant for best friends or parents, being able to accept the message and not let it stop me from the enjoyment of the pleasure alone is often a feat.  Maybe that is the secret.  The quiet acceptance of things or messages that are and choosing not to let those define our individuality or ability.

Whether or not I’ve found the secret to eating alone, Florentine Cafe on Hanover Street is where I start my journey.

New York: Heroes and Villains Fan Fest

It didn’t make sense. At all.  “Why is he declaring a state of emergency? It’s not even snowing!” “Being from California, this doesn’t make sense, even for me. Look, Stephen Amell is saying it’s not snowing.” “I’m going to check Facebook…” “You do that.”  Amber and I sat in our hotel room, patiently waiting for the leaders of Heroes and Villains Fan Fest to post something, anything, about the first day of con being cancelled.  Finally, they did.

It is said that “Every bad situation will have something positive.  Even a stopped clock shows correct time twice a day.” The weekend of Storm Winter Jonas was no different.  For a few months, my college friend Amber and I had been planning to attend a small comic con called Heroes and Villians Fan Fest in New Jersey, just across the river from New York City. We decided to get to the city the day before the con started to explore and see the sites.  As the weekend approached, we watched, apprehensively, as weather reports started appearing about a blizzard that was supposed to hit the east coast. A few days before we left, I got a text from Amber. “So my dad thinks we should get a hotel closer to the convention center because of the weather.”  “That’s not a bad idea,” I texted back. After researching, we choose a hotel, La Quinta, that was less than a mile away from the convention center.  Feeling more confident, we began traveling, Amber on Thursday evening and I, Friday morning. We met at Grand Central Station.

“Amber, they posted something.” “What, what did they say?” “They cancelled the con for tomorrow.” “Man!!! Ok.  What should we do?”  “Well there’s this event on Facebook that some girl named Alyssa created. It’s for those of us who are already here and need something to do.  Maybe something with them?  It looks like a bunch of people are staying over in the Hyatt or Embassy suites.” “Ok.” “Hey! This means we can sleep in!” “Yeah it does!”

Walking into the main waiting area of Grand Central Station, I had a case of what I can only describe as the repeated “Oh my goodness.”  “Oh my goodness” and “wow” played like a broken record infused with a short strain of Taylor Swift’s “Welcome to New York” in my head.  After finding Amber, we stood in the middle and both stared.  Both feeling a bit peckish, we discovered a Chipotle close by, got food and talked. Several hours passed and we decided to walk to Central Park.  We meandered by the ice skating rink and outcroppings of rocks. “You know in the movies, how there’s that fountain thing with that building?” I asked Amber.  “Yeah!” “I’d like to see it. Do you happen to know what it’s called?” “I have no idea.  Google it.” A few taps later, we discovered we were thinking of the Bethesda Terrace and Fountain, where it was, and started walking towards it.

At 9am, the annoying music of my alarm started to play beside my head.  Rolling out of bed, I glanced out the window and say that it was actually snowing.  “Hey, look.  It’s actually snowing!” We shuffled around, putting on appropriate clothes and shoes and headed to breakfast. The TV in the dining room was on the news channel and the news anchor was talking about winter storm Jonas.  “So what should we do?” we asked ourselves as we rode the elevator to our floor.  “Well, I’d like to go over to the other hotel and although I’m not overly fond of walking, I’ll do it,” I said.  “Agreed,” said Amber. “Plus that’s where most of everyone else is.” I could sense an air of hesitation shared between us.  I glanced at Facebook.  “Hey! Alyssa, creator of the event, said she asked about a shuttle from our hotel to the convention center! It looks like she’s staying at this hotel too.  The front desk thought maybe a hour or so for the shuttle to get plowed out.”  “Ohh! Let’s get ready and go then!”

After taking an adequate number of photos and being adequately chilled, Amber and I made our way towards Times Square, by way of the closest Starbucks.  The sun had set by the time we reached Times Square which, we agreed, was most fortunate because we had wanted to see the square after dark anyway.  Lights shown bright as ad’s flashed across huge screens, soundless.  We stood in awe, slowly turning in a vain attempt to see everything.  The staircase at one end, glowing red, beckoned and we answered, climbing to the top.

“I hope they haven’t left yet,” I thought as Amber and I made our way to the hotel lobby.  Upon turning the corner, we saw three people, two guys and a girl who I assumed was Alyssa, standing next to the front desk.  “Are you going to the Hyatt?” I asked, directing my question primarily towards the girl, having recognized her from the Facebook event.  “We’re trying.  We tried walking but we only got so far because the wind was blowing the snow in our face.” “What about the shuttle?” “They said they can’t get a plow truck to come help get it out.  We were thinking of getting a Lyft. If we do, do you want to join?” I glanced at Amber, who nodded.  “Yeah, sure!”

“Lisa is annoyed that the only place we’ve eaten at so far in New York has been Chipotle.  She want’s to live vicariously through us and said we need to get pizza.” We stood on the side walk, pressed up against a building in an attempt to get out of the way while we tried to determine how to get to the bus station.  “Ok,” I mumbled to Amber, while looking on google maps. “Well, the bus takes us right to the convention center so maybe if we start walking that way to the station, we’ll find something that isn’t sit down and we can just get a slice.” “Sounds good,” she replied. We soon discovered that the bus station had a pizza shop in it and both got a slice after purchasing our bus tickets.  After trudging up a staircase to our gate, standing in line, and getting on the bus, we bit into our pizza, savoring the mix of sauce, cheese, and crust. Eventually we got to the convention center and picked up Amber’s pass at will call. After consulting google maps for the thousandth time, we navigated across the freeway to our hotel, La Quinta.

“Hey look! Someone responded to my Lyft request named Amaan!” declared Alyssa “I better tell him not to come into the parking lot or he’ll get stuck.”  While we waited for Amaan to arrive, we introduced ourselves, Travis and Chris stood on either side of Alyssa, and discussed our excitement about being in New Jersey for the con.  Eventually Amaan got to the hotel and, against our suggestion, pulled into the parking lot.  After piling into his car, he drove around and proceeded to get stuck. “We can help push,” Alyssa suggested mildly.  A minute or so later, we shoved out of the car, in search of shovels. Upon discovering two, Travis and Chris began to clear a path in front of the car, with eventual success. When we arrived at the Hyatt, we discovered a long line for Lord Mesa, an artist who was one of the featured guests at the con.  “Well, we could stay here but it looks like there are more people over at the Embassy Suites. And they’re saying something about Stephen Amell maybe staying at that hotel.”  A few moments passed and the decision was made to go to the Embassy.  The hotel had a more open lobby than the Hyatt with many more people, including some who had dressed up as different characters from TV shows and movies. After spending about 30 minutes at the Embassy, hunger began to make itself more and more known.  “Is anyone else hungry?” asked Chris.  “I want a drink and I’m annoyed they haven’t opened the bar,” stated Travis. The dilemma then became what to do about getting food.  Rumors were circulating about Stephen Amell wasn’t actually staying at the Embassy but was making his way to where we were.  We bounced around a few ideas, including going to Chipotle or Houlians. Eventually someone noticed a group of people eating pizza and discovered the pizza was from Carrabbas.  “Let’s just get pizza from Carrabbas.  We can bring it back here, if we want, in case some one shows up.” Travis pointed out that on one of the maps of the area there was a phone number and Alyssa called ahead and ordered two cheese pizzas. On the walk over, we bumped into two of Alyssa’s friends, Ramon and Ashley and they decided to join us.  Upon entering Carrabba’s we made an interesting discovery.

The rest of Friday evening, Amber and I spent watching Facebook and Twitter, trying to discover anything we could about the fate of the con.  At some point, Governor Chris Christie called a state of emergency for the area and then it was a matter of time for the people in charge of the con to cancel the first day.  About an hour of Christie announced a state of emergency, a tweet appeared on Twitter, letting us know that the first day of con was cancelled.  Disheartened, we climbed into bed with the intention to sleep in a bit.

“Guys,” whispered Amber.  “That’s Stephen Amell, that’s Stephen Amell!!!” Seated in the bar area of Carrabbas at a rectangular table sat a group of people, most of whom we didn’t recognize.  When we had walked in one of the heads facing away from us turned and we realized who it was.  Seated next to Amell was Teddy Sears and Robbie Amell.  Having already ordered our pizza, we figured it would be ok for us to sit at one of the tables in the bar area and wait. Towards the beginning of the time we spent at Carrabba’s we decided not to post anything on social media about the actors being at the table next to us.  “Let’s try to respect their privacy,” we agreed.  Eventually, because Carrabbas was one of the few places open close to the convention center, it became crowded.  Stephen Amell got up at one point and started taking pictures with people and we all got up and got photos with him.  Some time passed and all of a sudden we realized that John Barrowman and Katrina Law had walked in to join the crowd. Almost as soon as Katrina Law walked in, Chris started to blush and said, “Guys, she’s so cool!”  As she walked past our table, I turned and tapped her on the shoulder.  Pointing to Chris, I told her, “He’s, like, in love with you.” “Well I love you too,” she said to Chris.

Eventually, I had to leave because I was volunteering at the Nocking Point event that was happening.  As I walked out the door, I noticed Katrina Law standing with several other people, arms out stretched.  “Come make snow angels with us!” she exclaimed.  It took a second to register what she was saying but as soon as it did, I bounded over and got into line.  One the count of three, we fell back and made snow angels.  At the Nocking Point event, hosted by Stephen Amell and his business partner Drew, some of the other volunteers and I helped load boxes onto dollies and took them to the panel area of the convention center.  Once done and having received our volunteer shirts, two other girls and I were walking when Stephen Amell passed us and said “Hi.” “Hey,” I replied and kept walking.  A few steps later, I slowed, the other girls caught up and hissed, “You just got a casual hi from Stephen Amell!!!” “I know!!” I managed.

For the first part of the evening I helped other volunteers direct attendees into lines depending on what type of ticket they had.  Once we finished, one of the girls, Rory, and I headed into the party area to mingle with others.  The entertainment for the evening was John Barrowman and Stephen Amell singing.  After they were done, music played and people danced.  Eventually the night ended and Amber and I began our walk back to our hotel, thankful that when we got to the bridge, Ramon drove past and offered us a ride.  Over the course of the day, Amber and I had discovered that our transportation home on Sunday had been delayed or cancelled and once we reached the hotel, we extended our stay one more night.

Sunday morning came with Amber muttering, “It’s 7am.”  “Ahh man,” I moaned, bummed that I hadn’t gotten up when my alarm went off and hopeful that, although I was supposed to be at the convention center at that same moment, they would still let me volunteer. After throwing on my clothes, I went downstairs, hoping against all hope that I would be able to find a ride.  I passed Chris on my way out.  “Aren’t you supposed to be there by now?” He asked. “Yeah, I woke up late,” I mumbled.  Thankfully there were a few cars out front and I approached one and knocked on the window.  “Are you guys headed to the convention center?” I asked.  “Yeah we are,” replied the girl in the front seat.  “Do you mind at all if I ride with you?” “Sure!”

After arriving at the convention center, I made my way to the panel area and checked in.  We were all handed two different wristbands, one for when we were volunteering and one when we weren’t.  We were also given a food/meal ticket and two autograph vouchers.  I had been assigned security as my post for the con.  The first few hours I spent directing people to lines where they could wait to be let in. I thought it was quite cool when Stephen and Robbie Amell walked by and we exchanged “Hi’s” and “How’s it going.” Then one of the other volunteers and I were stationed at the entrance to direct people towards the exit in an effort to alleviate traffic jams. Several actors walked past us including Erin Richards (who had on really cool pants which I noticed before I realized who it was), Robbie Kay, and Robin Lord Taylor.  After my six hour shift ended, the Arrow panel was about to begin and I found a seat in the back to sit and rest my feet and listen. The cast discussed different aspects of the show and answered questions.

When the panel finished, I meandered through the vendors, looking at what they had to sell and eventually running into Amber, who had spent most of the morning with Chris. With hurting feet, we found a spot to sit next to Robbie Kay’s booth where Ashely was volunteering.  When Amber went to her photo ops, I walked around a bit more and tried to decide who to have sign my shirt.  The volunteers swapped suggestions, saying who was signing shirts and not taking the autograph vouchers vs who was taking them.  Karen Gillan wasn’t signing shirts but just as she was about to leave, I went up and said hi.  I ended up having Robbie Amell, Erin Richards (who didn’t take my autograph voucher), and Sean Pertwee.

I met back up with Amber and Chris around five and we decided to go eat before going to our respective places of rest.  We decided to go to Carrabbas again and saw Robbie Amell for the second time and joked that none of us would ever be able to go to Carrabbas again without thinking of New York or expecting to see someone famous.  We decided to get dessert for Chris’ birthday and spent time talking and laughing. Once Amber and I got to our hotel, I asked about different transportation for the morning, and we watched some TV.

Monday morning came bright and early and I was at the bus stop waiting for the bus at 7am.  My rescheduled train for the morning was delayed for about 20 minutes and being already early, I decided to go over a few blocks to get coffee and an everything bagel.  It was one of the best bagels I’ve ever had.  Once I reached Boston, I spent some time eating and writing at Quincy Market before catching a bus to Dover.