More Boston
It actually warms my heart to see so many Subarus here in the Boston area. You know you'’re in good company when you see Subarus because that means you'’re among people that enjoy and hopefully protect the environment. That seems to be the vibe I get whenever I'm in a city with a fair amount of Subies on the roads. The environment is usually moutainous, or hikable, or worthy of being utilized. I guess any city could be utilized, but how much fun can you have in the open flat, plains?
I met a great couple last night via bumming a cigarette. I like to smoke when I drink, it'’s an all or nothing proposition, you know? When I flub or goof, I do it big style. There's no in-between when it comes to screwing-up. So, anyway it turns-out they're from Ireland and are in Boston on vacation. They were so very nice to invite me to join them for dinner, even though I already ate dinner, I went along for the company. We talked about this and that and the difference in healthcare in Ireland and the U.S. UK is ahead of us as far as taking care of their people's healthcare needs, even though, according to the wife they don'’t do so well when it comes to natal and prenatal care for women. To continue, they are generally pleased with their healthcare system while I tell them here, it'’s expensive and if you'’re middle-class you're screwed. In fact, if you're middle class you'’re screwed in a number of areas: taxes, healthcare, insurance, mortgage, etc. Better be impoverished or filthy rich to get ahead. (I'’m looking at this sticky stuff on my keyboard and still don'’t know where it came from, it goes across the 7, 8, 9, and "“I"” keys.) They finish dinner and I finish my Agave Margaritas, which are very good BTW. Then we head off to a bar I found earlier in the night after I got back from walking down to the waterfront in Boston. There, we order a hard cider per their recommendation. I usually don't drink ciders, too sweet, but this one turns out to be very good , and here's a hint from the Irish: Drink your cider on ice, I did, and it really makes the drink better. There'’s a cover band playing and I enjoy that little too much and am told to back-off by the bouncer, apparently they don't go for intense devils horns in the bands face. But, before that the couple and I talk about how the English stole America from the American Indians and India from the Indians. Paul, Irish gent, tells me that I remind him of his father and if his father was there with us, he'’d push Paul aside and we'd be having a great conversation. His father was a history professor. Which is weird because as I spew BS from my mouth I can stand to the side and listen to myself and think "shut up you fool, you have no idea what you're talking about". However, I can't hear myself and keep on talking. When I return from the cover band I notice my new "friends" have left me. I'm too drunk to be sad and only look at my watch to make sure I can make the 12 AM train back to the hotel...it's only 11:45 PM. The train ride is fuzzy and I know I fell asleep, and how I knew to get off at the right stop is anybody's guess. I do remember now walking into the lobby and asking the young guy at the counter if I can charge a jelly roll to my room, which explains the sticky stuff on my keyboard. Can you imagine a guy staggering in to the hotel lobby, waving at you as he walks to the elevators, does a 180 swings by the pantry, grabs a jelly roll and incoherently asks if he can charge it to his room? Who knows what I said, maybe it was something like this: "Hey! Canna sharge this duma voom? Hanks." What a slobbering fool.
I met a great couple last night via bumming a cigarette. I like to smoke when I drink, it'’s an all or nothing proposition, you know? When I flub or goof, I do it big style. There's no in-between when it comes to screwing-up. So, anyway it turns-out they're from Ireland and are in Boston on vacation. They were so very nice to invite me to join them for dinner, even though I already ate dinner, I went along for the company. We talked about this and that and the difference in healthcare in Ireland and the U.S. UK is ahead of us as far as taking care of their people's healthcare needs, even though, according to the wife they don'’t do so well when it comes to natal and prenatal care for women. To continue, they are generally pleased with their healthcare system while I tell them here, it'’s expensive and if you'’re middle-class you're screwed. In fact, if you're middle class you'’re screwed in a number of areas: taxes, healthcare, insurance, mortgage, etc. Better be impoverished or filthy rich to get ahead. (I'’m looking at this sticky stuff on my keyboard and still don'’t know where it came from, it goes across the 7, 8, 9, and "“I"” keys.) They finish dinner and I finish my Agave Margaritas, which are very good BTW. Then we head off to a bar I found earlier in the night after I got back from walking down to the waterfront in Boston. There, we order a hard cider per their recommendation. I usually don't drink ciders, too sweet, but this one turns out to be very good , and here's a hint from the Irish: Drink your cider on ice, I did, and it really makes the drink better. There'’s a cover band playing and I enjoy that little too much and am told to back-off by the bouncer, apparently they don't go for intense devils horns in the bands face. But, before that the couple and I talk about how the English stole America from the American Indians and India from the Indians. Paul, Irish gent, tells me that I remind him of his father and if his father was there with us, he'’d push Paul aside and we'd be having a great conversation. His father was a history professor. Which is weird because as I spew BS from my mouth I can stand to the side and listen to myself and think "shut up you fool, you have no idea what you're talking about". However, I can't hear myself and keep on talking. When I return from the cover band I notice my new "friends" have left me. I'm too drunk to be sad and only look at my watch to make sure I can make the 12 AM train back to the hotel...it's only 11:45 PM. The train ride is fuzzy and I know I fell asleep, and how I knew to get off at the right stop is anybody's guess. I do remember now walking into the lobby and asking the young guy at the counter if I can charge a jelly roll to my room, which explains the sticky stuff on my keyboard. Can you imagine a guy staggering in to the hotel lobby, waving at you as he walks to the elevators, does a 180 swings by the pantry, grabs a jelly roll and incoherently asks if he can charge it to his room? Who knows what I said, maybe it was something like this: "Hey! Canna sharge this duma voom? Hanks." What a slobbering fool.
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