Day 47

Patriots' Day, April 15, 2013.

In Massachusetts, Patriots' Day is an official state holiday commemorating the Battles of Lexington and Concord, the first battles of the Revolutionary War.  It is celebrated every third Monday in April, and most widely marked by the running of the Boston Marathon.

The Red Sox also play every Patriots’ Day beginning at 11am, making it a great package deal for the sports fan.  The vast majority of the runners are making their way past the 25th mile marker in Kenmore Square just as the baseball game is finishing up and the stadium is clearing out.  I have probably attended the Sox/Marathon twin bill about 6 times in my life (between visits up from Texas and living here).  It’s just an amazingly awesome experience!  

So it was only natural that Austin and I were seated in the grandstand seats behind the first base line that day.  Beautiful blue skies.  Spring chill in the air.  A Sox win.  And a quick visit with friends from Connecticut.

By the time we made it into Kenmore Square, the crowd lining the street was 10-15 deep.  We were able to find some holes to peek through and cheer a few runners on. Packed like sardines, we inched toward the subway entrance.

“Do you want to go to the finish line and watch?  Or just head back home?” I asked Austin.

“Let’s go home.”

“You sure?  I know a back way… we can skip the crowds.”

“Yeah, I’m just kinda tired.”

“No worries, buddy.”

So we slowly fought our way down into Kenmore and onto the Green Line.  Jammed into the train car what seemed like the rest of humanity, we unloaded quite a few of them at the next stop.  It happened to be the closest stop open to the Finish Line.

After waiting for another long minute without moving, a voice came over the speaker announcing that everyone must get off the train.  The station was being evacuated.  I rolled my eyes at the inconvenience.  Seriously?  (Little did we know then, that the bomb had just exploded above ground at the finish line.)

As we exited the doors at the top of the station, I made a split-second decision NOT to turn left toward Boylston Street, simply to avoid the crowds in order to get back to our car the quickest way possible.  I tried to check twitter to see what was going on.  Couldn’t get through.  I tried calling Rob.  Couldn’t connect.  I realized something big was happening.  So I texted Rob we were ok.  I texted my sister we were ok.  Just in case.

As we walked down the back alley, police were beginning to throw up barricades.  I overheard one officer mention the possibility of a “secondary” explosion.  I’m not a rocket scientist… but I quickly realized that meant “primary” had occurred.  I decided then to lead us as far away as possible from any potential targets.

We camped out for a few minutes on the sidewalk of one of the Back Bay streets as the sounds of ambulances and emergency vehicles grew louder and more frequent.  I eventually found an MBTA officer who was able to tell me that all of Boston was shut down, but Cambridge was still running (which is where our van was parked).  Eventually we walked across the Mass Ave bridge, along with hundreds of our closest friends, into Central Square and onto the Red Line.  By 7pm that evening and 3+ miles of walking, we were home safely.

I am heartbroken over so many things that day.  I am also thankful for so many things that day.  Had Austin agreed to go to the finish line, we would have been extremely close the the second bomb that went off.  Also, had we turned left after exiting upon evacuation, his little eyes would have seen much devastation, blood, and things he could never unremember.  

We went back to the Sox game for Patriots game the following year.  It was and important and healing step for us both.