In my youth, I always dreaded driving through Providence, Rhode Island. It was so easy to get lost. Like Boston, the streets were apparently former cowpaths. When Interstate 95 and 195 came along, it suddenly became easy to get through the city, as long as you didn't try to go downtown.
Several years ago, I took the train from Baltimore to Providence where I was to connect with a rental car for the rest of the trip to New Bedford, Massachusetts. The weather was beautiful when I left the Pennsylvania Station in Baltimore, but when I got to Providence, they were having a mini-hurricane. The rain and wind were overwhelming.
As instructed, I called the rental office to have them pick me and my luggage up at the train station. The clerk informed me that she no longer had anyone available to pick me up, but since the rental office wasn't too far away (a half mile or so), I should try to walk there.
An elderly lady and I were both scheduled to be picked up and there was no way she could walk that distance, especially in the hurricane. I went outside to get a cab. Plenty of them went hurrying by, but none would even slow down. So, after a while, I got tired of the game and ran out in front of a Checker Cab and he had to stop. I pulled open the back door while he cussed me out and let the drenched old lady in and I jumped in, dripping rivers of water, much to the consternation of the preacher who thought that he had a dry cab all to himself.
We got to the rental office, tipped the driver appropriately (then he stopped cursing) and went up to the frazzled clerk, who looked like she was about to have a seizure. She took care of the dripping old lady, who disappeared into the attached parking garage to obtain her car. (Should elderly people be driving in Providence? Subject of a separate blog, I think.)
The clerk logged me in and gave me the car keys and told me to go to the third floor of the parking garage and get my car. I put my luggage in the back seat, started the car and began my descent to the street and the raging weather outside. At the exit, a large angry looking man asked for some piece of paper that the clerk had neglected to give me. His face got bright red while he made me get out of the car, put my hands on the roof, and submit to a body "frisk".
He was about to call for backup so that I could be appropriately arrested as a car thief. After much pleading, he allowed me to go back to the clerk for the document. I had to leave my wallet and my luggage as collateral. So, it was back through the wind and rain to the clerk, who said, "oops, I forgot". Then, it was back to the parking garage attendant (who was a police officer doing his second job)... I still was looked at by him as a "miscreant" who had tried to get away with something, and was growled at as he gave me back my personal effects. Now I was able to drive off into the hurricane through the mostly unmarked streets of downtown Providence and eventually get to my destination.
Thinking about this experience, when I set off for Providence on the train again last week, I checked the weather to make sure there would be no hurricanes predicted. However, I didn't read the forecast closely enough, because when I got to Providence, it was 28 degrees with a 30 mile gale. At least it wasn't pouring. (I wished I had brought an overcoat though.)
In planning the trip, I had downloaded walking instructions to the rental office, since there is no longer a pickup service, and cabs probably aren't interested in train travelers there (not like at Baltimore). So, when I arrived in the Providence station, I tried to follow my walking instructions... well, there is massive construction where I was supposed to walk, no sidewalks in other parts, no cabs in sight, no street signs, ..... The first person I asked for directions was from Massachusetts and didn't even know where she was. The second person was the proprietor of a cleaning store... she didn't even know the name of the street I was on. The third person told me to go a way that would have taken me back to the train station. The fourth person was a cop on a horse who was too busy to talk to me. The Fifth person sent me off to the "Kennedy Complex" whatever that was... but it had green roofs, so I could see it in the distance. When I got there, I was able to find the street. Now, there were no numbers on the buildings.. and I was looking for number 1. After I went three blocks in the wrong direction, I backtracked and found that the street turned around a corner and went a different way, but there it was.. number 1.
I got my car finally.. it was parked outside of the parking garage so I didn't have to fight with a moonlighting cop again. The car as supposed to be an "upgrade". It stunk of cigarette smoke. It was "sporty".. which means, whenever I got in, even though I'm short, I would bang the top of my head.
Now I could drive out of Providence, just get on 195 and I would be in great shape. You guessed it, the on-ramps were under construction. So, I had the privilege of driving through East Providence and some small towns for a while.
I'm not even going to tell you about my trip back to downtown Providence..... you wouldn't believe it.
Providence seems like a nice city.. my cousin, Charlie, graduated from Brown University and he likes it. And Roger Williams was a good guy, except perhaps for his persecution of Protestants who didn't agree with him. But the Roger Williams park and zoo were nice places to go when I was a kid. Also, the fine company, Cape Cod Ladders, had a plant there. This was the company that I worked for a bit some time ago.. but at the New Bedford plant where I held the record for mismade ladders... but I digress. I have also had some fun flying Southwest into the Providence airport, but I'll leave that for another time.
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