Oddly Specific Places to Cry in Boston

I watched crocodile tears roll down my cheeks and knew that it was the end of an era and the beginning of a legacy. I realized that day that it hurt more to smile than to cry. As I grew up, my crying got more professional and moved from a one woman show in my mirror, to a five star performance surrounded by my adoring fans (uncomfortable pedestrians.) To me, crying in public is one of the chicest things a person can do. It requires commitment, over active tear ducts, and a sort of magic melodrama that you have to be born with. If you think you have what it takes to master the art of water works, visit my top picks and report back to me. Better yet, tell me in person because you will 100 percent find me at any of these spots telling you to never change.

1. BPL Outside Staircase on a Wednesday in the Rain

These steps are sacred. As I think about that hallowed ground, I get flooded with my French actress complex and I can only see in Sepia. Crying outside in the rain is one of the most melodramatic breakdowns a person can have, and after seven hours of watching videos of aggressive performance artists instead of actually writing a paper about them, you will be ready for a release. One tip is to never let the rain one up you. It is complimentary and there to transform you into the silent film star you are. If people say anything to you respond with “Pas s’anglais” and your chic points will skyrocket.

2.  The Third Duck in the Public Garden  

The third duck stands for everything a public crier believes in. She is original, real, and clearly also crying. Unlike the rest of the poser ducks, she doesn’t give a shit about what people think of her. Her stunning back arch and mysterious downward glance makes her the perfect pedestal for your catharsis. Even though she is beautiful, she also has an ugly duckling facade. It is so relatable that no one will even think it’s weird that you are 20 and dry heaving on a duck. However, if little kids ask if you’re okay, say no and run away because the third duck lives for the shock value (her butt is up in the air after all.)

3. Bathrooms with Codes You Memorized

Not only am I brilliant and perfect, but I also have 17 different bathroom codes written down in my planner (obviously I don’t have a planner, they are in my iPhone notes). This is the place you go when the cry is no longer aesthetically pleasing. This is for the snot trains, the coughing fits, and the face-into-the-hand-dryer-confidence-boost. The coded bathroom is your sanctuary; it is your hiding place and your temple. Only you can unlock the chamber of privacy with the codes you worked so hard on typing and because of your dedication, take your sweet ass time. Ignore every knock, every “ma’am are you okay in there?’ and every impulse to leave. This is your house honey, don’t ever forget it.

4. An Uber Your One Night Stand Paid For

You lock eyes with your driver and, for a second, you feel like you’re floating. First of all, ignore this‒you are just coming down from the one night stand high. You aren’t in love, you’re just a little overwhelmed. By this point, we both know that weeping is the only way to sort through your ~feelings~. He was cute, not psycho, funny (good funny‒like Jim from The Office funny), and called you an Uber. Your heels don’t hurt anymore and your driver can tell. You are both happy. WARNING: this moment can be easily ruined if you realize it's 6 a.m., you’re still drunk, and have 39 missed calls from your boss. Good job, you little hopeless romantic.

5. Into your Omelet at Brunch after Your Card Gets Declined  

Goat cheese, spinach, egg whites: everything is perfect. Boozy brunch is usually cute and gossipy, but today, it is pathetic. Your mom told you she transferred 30 dollars into your account so you could buy food (alcohol) and you assumed the money went through. You’re on your third mimosa when the waitress comes back and says the most common phrase in the entire dictionary of college: “do you have another card? This one isn’t working.” Silence, death, tears. As someone who is in this position every Sunday, I have the best advice ever: DO NOT REMAIN CALM. Weep, sob, scream, or make up some bullshit story about being robbed. All you have to do here is perform and if you have ever cried in public, I’m sure you know exactly what I mean.

Text by Jenny Griffin