Airports are only half the fun

Not too sound odd (or odder than usual), I am dedicating this post to a toilet. Yes a toilet, the most magnificent toilet in the United States. It is found in every women’s bathroom stall at O’Hare airport. Pure genius dispensing clean and sanitary seats for which you can sit on instead of “hovering” and cramping your thighs.

You may ask why I was at O’Hare (Chicago), well I was in town to celebrate my friend Smith’s 30th birthday. I had to use a free work flight to Chicago before it expired and I figured why not surprise the whole gang! Yep, I did not notify any of my friends (except Melanie who let me sleep on her glorious guest bed), so it was a total surprise to everyone when I showed up at the bar.

My favorite reactions were Dan R. wide eyes and the birthday boy’s “Holey Shit!”. The party was in the back of a Lincoln Square Bar, The Chicago Ale house. Not only did they have Kronenburg but also Delirium…mmmmnnn. That is a recipe for drunketiy drunk drunkness.

By the end of the night we were inhaling the helium from the balloons. Kons by far was the best at it and crack up when I think of his serenade of classic rock. I’m sure the rest of the bar was like “man these people are seriously disturbed” especially when I started donning one of the ‘guess who’s 30’ streamer banners like a Miss USA sash.

No birthday can be complete without cake. How do you serve cake to a bunch of drunk people in a bar, cupcakes….genius! Mmmmnnn they were so good. The combination of the helium and booze made me quite giddy and I thought to play a trick on Ryan. I said “hmm, this cupcake smells funny, you smell it”. I then smashed it in his face and laughed my ass off. Okay, get it out now, I am a jerk. Well as I was laughing, I went to eat the remainder of the cupcake (why waste it…mmmmnn). Ryan got revenge and smashed it in my face. I then chased him into the men’s restroom to wash up (well and to laugh our asses off….we inhaled just helium I swear). While we were cleaning up, a stranger came into the bathroom and was shocked to see the following image “two people near the stall with brown mash all over their mouths and chins”. Yeah it probably looked like we were eating shit!

Smith had his fill of shots and more shots, so his wife (Jenn) stowed him in a cab and they headed home. We got a text message about ten minutes later from Jenn who said about half-way home, Smith jumped out of the cab, puked on the sidewalk, and then started walking in the wrong direction. Boy have I been there trying to convince a very drunk partner that home was actually the other way (see New Years Eve post).

The crew out of habit meandered to our favorite late night burrito joint Garcia’s. This place is known for authentic Mexican dishes and burritos that could even satisfy the biggest of appetites (have you SEEN my guy friends….seriously). It also has hot Latina waitresses and a very creepy looking kid painted in the wall mural.

The place was packed with drunk people (including us). The restaurant got so rowdy that they bar part closed its door as to say “no more booze for these folks”. We did manage to get a picture of strawberry margaritas (note I was the only girl and did not have any input on the drink order) which we all sipped on since our booze level was maxed out. One really funny thing was that the drunk crowd banded together with random bursts of applause. Seriously, a waitress would come out with the water jug, and the whole place would erupt clapping.

The next day, I met up with Dan R. and Ryan for lunch (all others were in hangover agony). Dan and Ryan ordered the Bloody Mary bar to help ease their head (and propel them to the first level of alcoholism). I stuck with the water. The waitress came back with three pint glasses of ice water. I thought it was strange that mine was the only one full, but oh well. Being parched, Dan took a big gulp of from his water and then proceeded to gasp and turn bright red with his eyes bulging out. Turns out the “water” was really vodka for the Bloody Mary bar. Poor guy sucked down three shots of liquor. Reminds me of an incident the previous week where my water bottle was full of vodka. On a similar note, Dan or Ryan told a story from college spring break. Evidently a guy was wrecked and passed out on the hotel bed. The other guys filled a big gulp with rum and placed it on the nightstand. First thing the following morning, the hung-over guy took a long drink from the cup. He immediately projectile vomited on the other guy crashing on the bed. Ah ha ha ha, what a horrible way to wake up, covered in vomit!

I killed time that afternoon over at Dan’s sweet condo. He introduced me to the video game Guitar Hero. Basically it is a way for video gamers to pretend to be cool (sorry Dan). Actually I’m impressed with Dan’s skill since he did an expert level Sweet Child of Mine. I tried it out on the very beginner level (and some hair of the dog song that was supposed to be really easy) and was booed off the stage twice for missing too many notes. Damn, I have no talent! I’m glad I do not have the game at my apartment otherwise I would probably obsess over it until I got through one entire song.

Heading out to the airport, we hit massive traffic. I think Ryan got annoyed with me for counting down the precious few minutes before my flight took off. Well I got there 30 minutes ahead of time and was not allowed on the flight because I had to check a bag. Don’t get me wrong, I packed a small carryon for my 48 hour trip to Chicago, but my giant thing of moose exceeds the stupid 3oz liquid rule. First off it is a moose, not liquid, big difference. Second it does not come in a smaller size because it is salon product. Those who have been to a salon know they use the biggest bottle possible to put their product in. Seriously, if they could market a keg of hair gel, they would.

Luckily I was put on standby for the next flight leaving an hour later. I was marked to be miserable because I A) got a middle seat and B) got seated next to the most annoying woman ever! She was even worse than the two kids I had to “babysit” on my 4-hour flight back from Jamaica. These kids were loud, squirmy, constantly getting up to pee (I was aisle) and stole my blanket when I got up to stretch my legs. I don’t care if I looked heartless when I scolded them with “use your indoor voice (did I just say that?)” and sternly said “that is my blanket” before ripping it off of their tiny bodies. Well this lady kept asking me the dumbest questions ever! Here is some of the conversation:
Her: “oh Lordy, I only see one exit, out plane only has one exit, the instruction guide (to which she was reading religiously) says we have two, oh child how am I going to get out”.
Me: (I keep reading my book)
Her: “do you want light, it is this button, I can turn it on for you”.
Me: Naw, I am trying to ruin my eyes, but thank you. (now pretending to sleep)
Her: “girl I have got to go to the bathroom, do you think I can go or should I hold it till we land”
Me: (in my head – hold it bitch, I don’t want to undo my seat belt and get up) “if you have to go, then go”.
ETC.
Her: “oh there is a lot of lights down there, do you think that is New York City”
Me: “we are one hour into our flight, it is probably Detroit”
Her: “are you sure it is not NYC, I mean there is a time change”
Me: pretend to sleep (in my head – listen this is an airplane, not a teleporter, although I am tempted to tell her it is NYC and then exclaim something like oh my God, we just passed the city, are they turning around, nope, we missed it, guess we will just get off a the next stop, London)

Eventually the city lights greeted us, and I close out my Chicago weekend getaway.

She is coloring at a 6 year-old level

Okay I have been told that my posts are getting a bit too long......and boring. Well I'm sorry you are such jerks, but I've been having a lot of loooong adventures. Anyway, here is a sign I saw on the streets of NYC. Tutor for grades K-2.....in what may I ask? Legos? 4-Square? Coloring.....goes to show there are some really stupid people out there.

Watch out....buttstorm on the horizon

The boys are back, the boys are back in taauueeewn. Gotta love the 80’s…..and who else loves the 80’s, why my Chicago guy friends! Yes I was blessed this past weekend with a visit from my very good friends Bill, Big Mike, and Ryan.

On Thursday, Bill and Ryan few in from Chi-town. Our first stop beer! Well actually it was the second stop after lunch, whatever. I took them down 46th street which is dubbed restaurant row because it has a shit load of eateries. Anyway, we passed house of brews and Ryan convinced us to stop in since they had Kroninberg (some French beer he cannot find anywhere in Chicago). Count it, their first – but not last – beer in New York.

We headed over to 5th Ave for some window shopping and tourist activities (guilty pleasures). Walking thru times square we saw the Naked Cowgirl. I’ve seen the Naked CowBOY before, but never this chick. She was wearing a tiny sequined skirt and pasties! Yes, tiny nipple covers were the only things above her waist unless you count the cowboy hat. The guitar was a total prop because she did not even attempt to play it.

First stop was the NBC store (30 Rock) since Bill needed to get Melissa a Conan O’Brian shirt. Evidently they don’t think they have a female fan base because there was nothing smaller than a men’s large. Oh well maybe she can belt it. Walking up 5th towards the park, we happened to pass the NBA store. Okay all of my previous visitors have been women, so I didn’t even realize the store existed. Well it was like catnip to the boys! They found all sorts of sweet three stripe gear that was actually their sizes. Score except Ryan forgot his credit card and could not get anything (the saddest face ever!). The major defect in the store was the mile long ramp down to the lower level. You seriously needed to pack essentials and notify next of kin before partaking on the trip.

At the edge of the park, we gathered around a group of street break dancers. A quick side note, the boys are all huge break dance fans except none of them (I think) can actually do the moves. One time we got Big Mike really drunk at 1056 bar in Chicago and he tried to throw down on the cardboard. Unfortunately his cartwheel did not turn out as planned and he catapulted himself into the crowd. Two of the performers were all acrobatic and awesome and stuff. We could have watched them for hours except them stopping to request another “donation” got old after the third time.

No worries, we caught another street break dance troop on the other side of the park in Columbus Circle. This group had two girls (my fave was Ill Jill) and Bill managed to get the best crotch shot ever, by accident….suuuure. I wish my camera was more ready because they spun a guy on another guy’s head. We left when the flat out halted the show and ordered the people to pay another $40 (after they had come around twice in the last five minutes).

Walking back down 8th Ave. the guys I think finally realized what I meant when I say “I live in the smut district”. We stopped around the corner for a pizza dinner. Count it, first pizza meal (many to follow). That night we stopped at the Irish Rouge only to defer to a more “slummy” venue, Circus. The only highlight is the tatted up girl bartender giving Ryan a free beer after calling Magic Hat Circus Brew, “you know, the clown boy beer”.

Friday morning we headed down to Chelsea and then Madison Square Park/Flat Iron Building. We stopped for a burger at the NY Burger Company since the Shake Shack had a line around the block (I vow one of these days I will eat there). We sat in the window to people watch (well mostly this hipster girl in short cut off jean shorts and leggings). Well the onion rings were so good (voted #1 by GQ) that every passerby stared at them. Seriously, everyone! Their eyes would be looking around and then zoom in on the onion rings. On the way back to the apartment to meet up with Big Mike, we made our second stop to the NBA store. Learning the lesson on the previous visit, Bill and I vetoed the lengthy ramp walk.

You can tell the boys are creatures of habit since we stopped again at the House of Brews for our pre concert drink. There we put down a tower of Delirium and another tower of something beer like. Now the whole point of the boys’ visit to NYC (beside seeing their best gal pal) is the Underworld concert in central park. This DJ & singer/guitarist duo is best known for a the Trainspotting song. Think techno rave like and you will get the idea.

Okay you have three huge guys and me. Who gets stuck wearing the backpack jammed with towels (for sitting, stupid idea)…..me! Yep, I was like the little Sherpa that could. I was going beer for beer with the boys which resulted in one veeeeeery drunk Lindsay. I kept bonking people with my huge backpack like some comedy of a guy and a ladder.

While trying to hail a cab, I had the greatest need to pee. Okay, everyone has been there. When you are wasted and need to “go” your options are to pee on something or yourself. Granted the booze makes you disregard certain sanitary standards like an enclosure. Yep, if drunk enough you will pretty much pee anywhere. I hopped a privacy hedge and relived myself on an old money brownstone. The doorman came chasing after me, so I was hiking up my pants while running down 5th ave. Yep, I am classy enough to publicly urinate on the upper east side.

We headed over to my Hell’s Kitchen dive Rudy’s after a brief detour at my favorite times square hot dog vender. The lure of Rudy’s is duct tape seats, cheap beer, and free hot dogs. Even though we just had some dogs from the vender, we swallowed down a horde of bar dogs (the next day my stomach was all “why do you hate me Lindsay, seriously, why”). The boys were in heaven.

Bree and Ali were finally able to meet the boys. I don’t think they ever believed me when I said they are huge. Bree kept going “oh my god you are so big”! I finally have pictures of me since Bill was also documenting the trip. Too bad they only revealed how I look when wasted! I seem to get this funny face that I tend to think is sexy but looks more like I am ready to sneeze.

The next morning came all too quickly as we headed out to the Statue of Liberty. I grabbed a water bottle in the fridge to take with me because it would be a long morning. While walking through the subway station, I took a giant swig. I immediately spit it out in a big spray which startled the boys as well as all the other subway paitrons. Turns out the water bottle was full of vodka! Well I guess it is one way to cure a hangover....or become an alcoholic.

I thought we were going to loose Bill since he took a picture in the security tent (what are they afraid of us seeing….long lines and x-ray machines…way to set the priorities) and was barked at by the 15 year old looking guard. Yep, the word of the day was lines! Lines for the ferry, lines for the statue, lines for the food…..I think we spent more time in line than actually all up in that bitch. Yeah the boys put spins on our visit to the national landmark by saying she took all of us inside at the same time, and something about having sex with her foot (don’t know who said that, but it stuck).

We hit up the usual sites down in lower Manhattan, like the bull, wall street, NYSE, Federal Hall, Trinity Church, St. Paul’s, and ground zero. I had hoped there would be a lot more memorials up at ground zero since the anniversary was earlier that week. A 9/11 firemen showed up and said hello to a passing tour group. One thing that really irked me was sketchy people trying to covertly sell you souvenirs (like pictures or posters) at the site. I told one of them off because I think it is disrespectful. On a lighter note, the Bull cracked us all up. It is atomically correct and has some major balls on it. They are all shiny from being polished by tourists. Seriously, everyone thinks rubbing them is funny (yeah all sorts of mad foreign people all cracking up and posing with them).

Walking around we played the “TB” (titty bounce) game. Basically it is something Bill made up where you look at a girl’s boobs bounce while she walks. We will be walking down the street and bill will say “she’s playing”. No scoring, like I said a reason to stare at boobs. Yeah I should start the gender equivalent game for seeing which side the man junk is on or something.

The afternoon consisted of naps (mmmmnnn wonderful naps) except for Bill who put together Bree’s new loft bed. In theory it was a great idea. Too bad when completed it put her about one to two feet from the ceiling. I’ve heard her bumping her head at night. I’ll be like “Bree” and she is like “huh, ouch”.

Maria came down from the burbs just in time to take a shot of the horrid Jamaican rum I brought back with me. The whole gang (Bree, Maria, Bill, Big Mike, and Ryan) made a quick food run at the local pizza place. The guys behind the counter shouted at us “hey it is the BIG guys again!” Evidently, Bill and Big Mike visited them the previous night after Rudy’s.

Davila met up with us and I took the boys to McSorely’s pub down in the St. Mark’s/East Village/Noho/whatever neighborhood. It was packed (as usual) but luckily we scored a table. Actually the waiters saw the guys and worked quickly to get them out of the way. The boys marveled at the idea of two beers per person and the choice of light or dark.

Side note – there is this spoof on Dateline’s to catch a predator (here is the link: http://www.mtv.com/overdrive/?id=1556902%26vid=143110). Anyway if you watch it you will see the “predator guy” flexing his muscles while saying “boosh”. Well that sound is the running joke of the group. Every time we finish a beer, we would scream “BOOSH” and slam the mug down. It eventually evolved so we were all grunting boosh at eachother like our civilization had regressed back to the cavemen era. Bill had the line of the night when he said “ring ring (then picked up the pay phone next to him, tapped a stranger guy next to us) it is for you, it’s BOOSH”. Ah ha ha ha.

Okay normally the McSorely’s waiters are all surly straight-off-the-boat Irishmen. Well they loved us! Seriously, one guy even posed for a picture with dozens of full beer mugs. You could say we are just that charismatic, but I think they liked us because we drank a crap load of beer. Our tab came out to $180 (they even put a smiley face in the zero). Each beer is $2.25 so we put away 80 drinks there!

The random moment of the night came when a nearby table suddenly stood up and started to sing the national anthem....at the top of their lungs! We were like, why not, and joined in. Soon the whole bar is singing along with hands over hearts. Very random indeed, but you gotta love it.....otherwise you are a terrorist.

Well the 80 beers took its toll because the boys were smashed. We were denied entrance to St. Mark’s tavern because the boys were too intoxicated. Bree took off to get a tattoo, but thankfully they would not ink her because she was wasted (unlike the shady place that gave Farrell his mark). Luckily for us, there was a bar willing to serve us right next to the tattoo parlor.

Midnight turned into 4am and we grabbed pizza yet again! Count it, this was the forth time in two-1/2 days (well 5th for Bill since he had pizza for lunch as well)! Hmmm boys and pizza, makes sense like hipsters and tight pants. Big Mike was not happy with his Ray’s calzone and ended up tossing it at some cab.

Sunday was met with severe hangovers and more tourist activities. I ended up taking them down to Canal street in Chinatown where you can buy bags of NYC crap for $10. We also hit up the Feast festival in Little Italy so we could much on mozzerrepa sandwiches (sweetened cornmeal Mcgriddles with a slice of mozzarella in between, mmmmnnnnn greasy goodness). While making a detour around little Italy (it was crazy packed), we accidentally walked into the Chinatown open fish market. Yep, semi-live fish and eels right there in the street. Okay I still smell fish on my clothes, time to burn them. That put a stopper on the days activities just in time for the boys to hop on a flight back to Chicago. They will be missed…..after I wake up from my nap.

Tour of Boston, 7-11 style

September has been quite the busy month sofar, and therefore I am getting behind in my posts. Here is one about my weekend trip to Boston two weeks ago (9/8-9/9).

Rob, Bree, and I took the 7am bus to Boston. Actually Bree barely made it due to the crappy early morning train schedules, and literally had to run down 8th avenue in order to catch the bus.

We arrived in Boston around noon and decided to drop off our bags at the hotel before sight seeing. The hotel I booked was $150+ cheaper than all the other Boston hotels. Well that should have been a sign that it WAS NOT IN BOSTON! Yeah word to the wise, Ramada Inn – Boston is not in Boston, but rather in a southern suburb. The website said “only three miles from downtown Boston” when it should have said “only three miles from a hill that you can see Boston from”. The closest sector of Boston it was South Boston (or south-E as the locals called it).

On the subway, we were discussing what sites we wanted to hit that day. Well I guess the map of Boston and backpacks were a tell-tell sign that we were tourists (way to go geniuses). A crazy drunk guy tried to tell us we missed out stop. Being anal retentive, I had planned out route and didn’t believe him. He kept shouting at us and finally another local came up to confirm that our directions were correct. He also warned us that he lives in the neighborhood and it is considered the worst in all Boston. Grrrrreat!

Walking along the streets, we were totally out of place. At least we got to see the real gritty part of the city/suburb/whatever. Most of the places were sketchy, but once we crossed a set of railroad tracks, the scenery changed for the better. Seriously, we were surrounded by huge Victorian houses and sculpted yards. Talk about wrong side of the tracks, literally.

We finally got to the strip mall where our hotel was. Well we had to dash across six lanes of traffic (3 each way) for a highway in order to reach our hotel. When the clerk asked for my car information, I informed him that I didn’t have one, I took the subway. He then said “wait, you mean you WALKED here”! Another note about our hotel, it was also one of the host for the AARP convention. Old people crack me up (see picture of them packing a KFC bucket along with their luggage). The best was when Bree said (loudly) “man what is with all these old people” only to turn the corner and run into a bunch of them (who most likely heard her comment).

We hopped on the shuttle back to the subway and headed back into town. We started our trip in Boston Common which is basically a giant park (not as big as central park, but big none the less). It felt like a 100 degrees outside, so we made a quick stop into a 7-11 across the street. Man the slurpies were like heaven, so I snapped a pic of our savior. This is what started our tour of 7-11 running gag.

The park was the start of the freedom trail. It is literally a line they have drawn in the sidewalk to follow through Boston and hit a whole bunch of American Revolution historical sites. Follow the yellow brick road, follow the yellow brick road, follow…well you get the idea. Just off the park was the “New” state house. Although it was erected in the late 1790’s, it still considered new. I’m sure a lot of people recognize the golden dome. The state house is actually built on the former site of John Hancock’s house. Makes sense since he was the first governor of the state (post revolution).

Across the street was the “Robert Gould Shaw” civil war memorial. If you have seen the movie ‘Glory’, then it is in honor of the guy played by Mathew Broderick and his brave regiment of free blacks.

The next stop was the Park Street Church and Granary burying ground. The church was not anything special besides the birthplace of Sunday school. The cemetery is the third oldest in Boston proper and most of the headstones date in the 18th century. It holds the first five governors (post revolution) as well as three signers of the Declaration of Independence, Paul Revere, Ben Franklin’s parents (rich be-hatches), Sam Adams (king of beers), the victims of the Boston Massacre which basically kicked off the whole revolution thing, and of course Johnny Hancock. John has a modest headstone, but since he was such a big deal to the people, they erected a huge memorial for him. Too bad it looks like a giant cock….HanCOCK, cock, coincidence?

Next was another church and cemetery (quiet a few stops on the tour were either churches or cemeteries, but you got to think those are the two things that are least likely to be demolished over the years). The King’s Chapel burying ground is the oldest cemetery in Boston and many of the graves date to 17th century. The first woman to step off the Mayflower is buried here. Evidently the place is haunted because an artistic caretaker decided to rearrange all the headstones so that they would be aesthetically pleasing. Unfortunately, he did not move the bodies!

Beside the King’s Chapel is the site of the first public school (or the Latin school) where Ben Franklin, John Hancock, and Sam Adams all attended. Outside was a big statue of Benny Franklin with reliefs on the base. We realized that everyone posed really really really gay back then with one foot pointed. Rob contested it, but Bree and I agree that they were all a bunch of pansies. Also there was a random bronze donkey with foot prints facing it that said “stand in opposition”. Yeah we are immature.

Next up was the Old Corner Bookstore, but it is now a Zales jewelry store or something. Boring! However, we did stop into another 7-11 for water (because people, it was super hot). Next to the 7-11 was the Old South Meeting House. This is where the colonists were all arguing and debating (bitching more like it) about England when Sam Adams said something like “hey lets go piss them off and trash their shit”. Yep this was HQ for the coke bender we all know as the Boston Tea Party.

Around the corner was Ben Franklin’s birthplace. Too bad it had long since been demolished. No plaque or anything. I guess they spent all the money on John Hancock’s giant penis. Down the street is the Old State House. The public would gather at it to hear announcements and such. The Declaration of Independence was read to the public for the first time from the 2nd floor balcony. Evidently Queen Elizabeth II also gave a speech from the same balcony in honor of our bicentennial. Personally, I think it is was her way of saying kiss off yanks, the British monarchy can still do pretty much anything they want to in your silly country.

Right outside the balcony (at a street intersection) is the site of the Boston massacre. I did not get a picture since a crazy guy was defending that particular territory.

The next stop was one of my favorites. Not because of the site (hurrah yet another old historic building…snooze) but because of the story behind it. Faneuil Hall and market place. Basically Peter Faneuil inherited a whole lot of money from his uncle or someone on the lone stipulation that he never marry. Well he took this and made it his credo. He was notoriously known as the “jolly bachelor” (basically the biggest player and man whore in New England). He even christened a ship named in honor of him called The Jolly Bachelor. Oh I guess you could also say the building was a town meeting place where Sam Adams used to give a bunch of speeches, etc. He doesn’t speak there anymore, he is dead.

We moved into the North End section of town. Essentially it is Little Italy. The streets were all cobblestone and the place was covered in old tenement buildings. This neighborhood was home to Paul Revere’s house. It is the oldest wooden building in the city and it was even already over 100 years old by the time Paul moved in. Nearby by was a small park dedicated to Paul and it made us talk about Johnny Tremain. Turns out Rob never had to read that book and therefore did not get the inside scoop on the American Revolution (I am so privileged).

Next on the trail was Old North Church which everyone should recognize unless you didn’t read Johnny Tremain. Yep, oldest and tallest church in Boston with second oldest cemetery, blah blah blah, home of the lanterns. Truth be told, you really can see the steeple from far away (and even across the river).

We crossed the Charleston River over to Bunker Hill and the USS Constitution. Okay us juvenile, but we had some fun with the cannons. This wooden warship defeated four British frigates during the war of 1812 and therefore earned the nickname “Old Ironsides”.

That night, we headed back to the North Side neighborhood to eat some real Italian food. Okay you may ask, why we didn’t want seafood since we are right on the water, simple, Bree and I both hate seafood. The Italian place we picked out was evidently owned by this old lady godfather. She spent the evening sitting outside and was greeted, bowed to, kissed, etc by all the guidos passing by. Our waitress had the real thick Boston accent and was the worst at giving recommendations. We would ask “how is the chicken X” and she would say “oh I don’t know, I only like things with the red sauce, oh wait it comes with the red sauce, so I think it is good”. Moron.

After a very big dinner and two bottles of wine, we stopped at Modern Pastry where my Chicago friend Rachel told me to get deserts. She said it is way better than the tourist trap Mike’s Pastry down the street. We got a second confirmation from the crappy waitress who made a scowl when we said Mike’s and then clapped her hands at Modern. I got very rich ricotta and custard filled chocolate dipped canolie. Yeah after a big dinner, I could only nibble on it (don’t worry we used the remainder of it for a prop later on).

We stopped into the first pub we could find (Green Dragon, shout out to my Gretna folk). Bree and I decided to give Rob some advice on how to begin speaking with a woman. Granted we were a bit drunk and therefore told him to give the remainder of the canolie to a girl. He balked at the idea, so I offered to do it to prove it could work. I used my “accidental bump into you at a crowded bar” move on a group of four guys. Sure enough, they took the canolie and later migrated to my area of the bar. Yep I rock!

We further tried to give Rob advice like “don’t wear pleated pants out, you are not AC Slater”. He tried to demonstrate his dancing ability to us and Bree said “what are you doing, the Carlton?” to which he replied “no but I can do the Charleston (and proceeded to flail his arms about)”. I shook my finger at him like a mother scolding a child and said “no, no, no, we are not going to dance like that”. Bree almost hit the ground laughing. We gave up when he could not even master the slight head bob to the music because it more resembled a pigeon walk head jerk.

We headed out to another bar and insisted that Rob go approach a woman. He picked out a woman who he believed to be only 25. Bree was like no way that woman is under 40! They bet on it and we asked the woman (don’t get me wrong, we were all smooth like “my friend says you are 25 and we think you are 28, who is right”). She got all mad at first asking us if a nearby man (her husband none the less) put us up to it. When we denied she was all exasperated saying, oh sweetie I’m 42! Her other even older friend kept saying to us that we were about her kids age and stuff. Bree and I walked away from that train wreck, but poor Rob was too much of a nice guy to abandon ship. At least I think it made that lady’s night.

There was a pub crawl at the bar. The guys were all wearing Chuck Norris shirts. I unsuccessfully took a picture of one. The back said “Chuck Norris doesn’t do pub crawls, he does pub marathons”. Ah ha ha.

The next day we took the subway out to Cambridge. It was the ALEWIFE line and Bree declared that would be her name for the remainder of the trip…Ale Wife. It was move in day for Harvard (or pronounced Haaaaavaaard by the locals) freshman. My first thought was ‘fresh meat’ but then I realized that am tiptoeing the creepy point. The most impressive building was Memorial Hall which made me gasp at first sight. It was almost too decorative but I was still in awe (it was huge!). Along with move in day, they had a giant flea market from all the stuff left behind the previous year. We could have picked up some shower shoes, laundry hampers, or some art history notes, but my heart was set on the blue sequined smoking jacket.

At the nearby Cambridge Common (another park, why cannot they just say park instead of common, is it a New England thing or something) we found the plaque marker where George Washington took command of the troops. About 100 feet away, we found another marker where Georgie took command. Huh? Somebody is wrong or George was really larger than life….Paul Bunion style.

Other highlights were the cannons left behind by the British (yet another picture of us being immature) and the church where George and Martha attended (gorgeous on the inside).

We caught another subway back into town for our tour of Fenway Park. Actually, we were on a tight schedule because of the bus station bag natzi, so we literally ran to catch the 2 o’clock tour. Okay, I’m not a big baseball fan, so here is what I took from the tour: small old ball park, home to the oldest wooden seats in any ball park which are only 16” wide because back then everyone did not have such fat asses, etc. We were able to sit atop the Green Monster and from the press box see the lone red chair out in center field where Ted Williams hit a monster 500+ homerun. Also over in left field is the CITGO sign which stands for “see – it – go”. The people made it a landmark and therefore could not tear it down even though there are no more CITGO stations anywhere remotely close to the city.

We killed two hours before our bus ride by walking through the botanical gardens. Beautiful! A really Italian wedding party was taking pictures on one of the bridges. It was seriously the most Italian thing I’ve ever seen. The groomsmen were all slicked back hair guidos and they even had a guy playing the godfather theme song on an accordion!

We meandered through the Beacon Hill neighborhood which is full of old money houses and unknowingly came across the Cheers bar (from the sitcom). The outside was identical, but the inside was waaaay different (evidently the show inside was a studio set). After a beer at Cheers (yes we even ‘cheered’) we stopped over to the original Filenes department store and the original Filenes basement (go figure it was actually the store basement).

Here are some pictures for you to enjoy.

Me riding a British cannon, yee-ha!

Us at Fenway ball park

CITGO sign from Fenway pressbox

GO USA!

Leonard Zakim Bunker Hill Bridge

7-11 at Old South Meeting Hall

7-11 at Harvard

7-11 at Filene's Basement

7-11 at Fenway Park

7-11 at the Aquarium

7-11 at Boston Common