Hello Beantown, part 3

The bar scene in Boston was unlike any I had experienced in Chicago. It wasn't dangerous or sleazy or depressing. It was comforting; a place where people from all walks of life could mingle and mix and ajoin. College-types and thirtysomethings gathered in various pubs throughout the city ( I assume. I can't say I was at every pub in the city) to escape the times recently thrust upon the world. The Second Iraqi War started ten hour previous to our departure toward the east coast. Seemingly, the best way to escape the anger and fear of what was happening was to cluster in taverns and watch the NCAA basketball tournament, which had also begun during our departure toward the east coast.
The stretch of bars near Fanneuil Hall had several places with big bay windows open to the public. We stood in front of the Ball & Hand Tavern which is purportedly the oldest pub in America and watched the end of a game through the window. The weather was unseasonably warm, so it was no sweat off our brow to stand there.
"I love the people inside not even watching the game.", said Lindsay as she noticed a couple having a conversation at a table while the impossibly jam-packed bar went crazy. Soon after this comment, a huge bald man, drink in hand, sitting inside the bar but seperated from us only by the open window turns to us and says, "If they're not careful, they're gonna get tossed out of here. Sheesh."
He shook his head and stared back at the television.
At that moment, a group of pedestrians on the opposite side of the street noticed the crowd of spectators in and around the bar and yelled to anyone who might be listening, "Hey, what's the score?!"
From inside the bar, a chorus would ring back, "61-58!"
The friends surrounding the man yelling from across the street began to laugh. The shouter wasn't satisfied yet though, "Who's up?"
The chorus rebuttled, "Michigan State!"
One last thing, "How much time is left?"
Only one guy inside the bar answered this time. I guess crowds have only so much patience, like when they are asked to clap in rhythm at concerts. The one kind soul to answer the shouter's queery said, "Less than a minute left!"
The shouter, taken aback, said, "Three points! Are you kidding?"
The shouter turned to his four friends, said something quickly and ran across the street to stand next to us in the window. Turning to Kelly, he said, "I can't miss this."
His friends continued walking down the street.

People say they believe in love at first sight. I don't know if I believe it, but I can pinpoint the moment I realized that at some point in my life, I will be living in this city, and that moment was when this guy decided to leave his friends and join strangers standing in front of a bar window.
I love this town. Wait, I'm sorry. I'm in-love with this town.

We regrouped back at the hotel with plans to venture out later in the night. All I had to do was put my shoes back on, but my two girls were adament about needing to "prepare", which was like watching a figurative reenactment of Darwin's Theory of Evolution! Kelly futzed with her hair for a torturous amount of time, while Lindsay switched between skirts and pants and then back again. Meanwhile I'm sitting all alone in the corner of the room like a small child wondering when I get to go outside and play. Enough time passed that I became paranoid. I began wondering just where we were going that these two girls were dolling themselves up so much.
Crap. I've seen how this plays out before.

Two girls - single.
One guy - single.
Girls get dolled up, guy keeps his ratty shirt on - all three go out for the night.
Guy camps Girls' style.
Girls ditch Guy and go flirting off on their own.
Guy sips Smirnoff Ice in the corner pretending he's having the time of his life.
Girls hit it big (the extra two hours in the bathroom pay off).
Guy realizes Smirnoff Ice is a girl's drink and is hit with the urge to go home.
Guy realizes he doesn't know his way home, suddenly wants a smoothie.
Girls have the time of their lives, Guy sleeps in the alleyway behind the pub until the Girls find him the next morning.

I ended up changing my socks and I ran a comb through my hair. I couldn't let those girls show me up.

One of the more pleasent evenings in recent memory was spent in the Italian neighborhood known as the North End. Seemingly one of the oldest parts of town, I noticed a lot of old men hanging outside the numerous italian restaurants. They would compliment all the young girls walking by and ignore the men. The concesus seemed to be that these old shop owners were sweet, but had this been the governmental district instead of the North End, I'm sure they would have been considered crazy.
It felt like an old movie here.
Paul Revere's house was in this neighborhood and it, much like 2/3 of the other buildings, were made of old battered brick that added what mom might call "a wonderful charm" to the city. So many of the restaurants we walked by (we had a hard time deciding where to eat) basked in the pride of their heritage and reveled in their "old country" ways.

It was right after we ate a fine Italian cuisine in the North End that the three of us decided to partake in a night of improvised comedy. Those of you who know me well know that there are few things I enjoy more than live comedy and I was grateful to Lindsay, for making the arrangements. As we arrived at the club, the bouncer asked to see all our driver's licences. We gave them to him; he noticed we were from Illinois (I said I lived right outside of Chicago), and he replied impressed, "Chicago? That's the home of improv comedy there, huh?"
He was correct.
But I suddenly got nervous. I enjoy live comedy, but I don't want to be a part of it and I worried that if word got around to the comedians that someone from comedy's homeland was in the audience, surely they would have zeroed in on me. My assumption was that we were lucky to score tickets on such a short notice and that we'd be stuck near the back of the theater. And as far as I know, they never call people fro mthe back to participate. the hostess showed us into the theater and told us that our seats are in A1, A2 and A3...
...Front row. Center.
Wait. Really?
The place was packed, how the Hell did we get seats right in front?
We spent the first half hour fairly nervous that we'd be asked on stage. And while no one was forced to do anything, Kelly did offer up a few improvosational suggestions. When she was brutally rebuffed by one of the performers both girls thought was cute, Kelly turned to us, embarrassed and said, "I'm never going to talk again."
It was getting a little later now but there was still enough time to visit a pastry shop called Mike's. This place stayed open as late as the bars and probably did better business. From there we went home, not greedy enough to ask anything more from the night.
It was wonderful.

* * * * *

There were a lot of things about Boston that I am leaving out here. I haven't mentioned the abundance of basketball hoops in Massachusetts, nor my follies (plural) at trying to order drinks in the wild pig-toss Boston calls it's taverns, I left out the fact that 2/3 of our little group are snorers, nor did I discuss many minute details of the city itself. This is a travelogue, why would I talk about the destination of my travel.
Often times, unless you live in or plan to revisit a certain place, a person's travel stories are boring and impersonal. Some of you have been to or live in Boston now - maybe you found an outsider's take amusing. some of you have never been and maybe I've convinced you that it's a great place to be. All I know is that I came to Boston with a friend to see a friend and expected very little from the town itself. I assumed that coming from the second City, nothing short of Italy or Spain would impress me.
I was wrong.
I fell in love with the town (take note: I'm saying "in-love" now. That's like four "likes" in a row).
In the end there are only two things that I am sure of. the first is that I had one of the best times of my life in Boston. The second is that I'll be back. I'm not sure when and I'm not sure for how long, but I need to be back so that my body can revisit the place my heart never left.

The End.