So, I was doing pretty well. I had about 3 weeks under my belt of no sugar and my body had settled in really nicely.
However, I knew danger was lurking as I considered my trip to Boston.
I haven’t fully committed my mind to the proposition of being sugar abstinent on vacation. There are a lot of social pressures to break up with my diet while I’m away from home.
So I Did.
The First Place I Ate Sugar was at Mr. Bartley’s in Boston
My Boston living brother billed this place as the best burger in Boston. It was good. It was damn good. I’ve had only one better burger on the East Coast, and that was last year’s trip to Washington D.C.
This Next Burger was from Good Stuff Eatery in D.C. – The mango sauce is unreal and I’ve crowned this:
The Best Burger I’ve ever Eaten
Anyways, I ordered a Double Chocolate milkshake at Mr. Bartley’s. And it was delicious. No shame in telling you that.
I spent some time in Boston on Walden Pond, the place of Henry David Thoreau – where he taught us to live deliberately, find stillness and enjoy the contemplative life. The 1.7 mile hike around the pond was spiritually haunting. I felt a peace there:
Thoreau passed away at the age of 45. He was hiking around in the rain and developed a bronchitis. Right before death his Aunt told him that it was “time to make peace with God.” Thoreau answered “I didn’t know we ever quarreled.”
After a Chocolate Shake – Dessert Downhill
After the chocolate shake I felt that the vacation was sugar broke anyways, so I went downhill after that. Literally any sugar thing you can think of I put in my mouth. I even went to the grocery store and got some of those mini apple hostess pies that I remember craving as I kid. Scarfed those down, no problem.
Trouble with TSA
On the plane ride home I re-committed myself to sugar free living.
TSA pulled my carry on aside and rummaged through it. I wish TSA would go to hell. In a nice way.
They drive me crazy.
So the TSA agent pulled out all of my underwear, looking for whatever they were looking for. She was putting a lot of pressure on the zipper, I could tell. And my luggage is cheap crap.
When she was satisfied that I wasn’t carrying a bomb in my travel luggage, she tried to zip it all back up. But it wouldn’t zip.
Than she tried harder.
and harder and harder and harder
Finally the zipper broke and came off the track.
There were clothes everywhere.
I asked her, “What should I do now”?
She looked at me with incredulity and said:
“I don’t have any Solutions for broken luggage”
I smiled. Life at this point was so ironically cruel that I summoned Thoreau and went meditative. TSA Tape popped into my mind.
I asked her if they had any?
I taped my suitcase up and went on my way.