Welcome back, apemen! Since the self-proclaimed Twenty-First Century Schizoid Man brought his digital recorder, mobile phone, and laptop computer to Boston with him in early October, yours truly was able to go along for the ride. Here, for your dubious pleasure, is a synopsized record of the events, such as they were, of his short-term vacation... [Ed.: The Foo chose to write this review in hexadecimal, and so it's taken me a few weeks to convert it to ASCII and HTML. Sorry for the delay.]
The train ride to Massachusetts was marked by periods of rain, but it was only drizzling when we arrived at South Station in the early afternoon on Friday. There was no rain at all as he checked into that Farrington dive, though conveniently enough it started up again while he carried his bags across the street and into the room. After a quick snack at McDonald's (I could tell you people what really goes into the making of Chicken McNuggets, but even I might lose my lunch), Andy rode the 'T,' a quaint method of conveyance, to a fashionable area of Boston known as Newbury Street. Of course, the only shop he walked into was a CVS, for some toothpaste and postcards. I wonder how they let people like him on Newbury Street... Heh. A subroutine I was running through the Ericsson phone was interrupted by a call from Barbara, making sure that the dolt arrived in the right city.
Heading back to the 'bed and breakfast' (there was a bed there, of sorts, but the place doesn't even serve breakfast anymore) to leave his big-ticket purchases, Andy realized that he didn't have time to dawdle, as he had to get to the Orpheum Theater early to pick up his "will call" ticket for the Aimee Mann concert. So it was back out to the 'T' and down to Park Street, where he had to ask an officer of the law where the Orpheum was, even though it was practically under his nose. The show was opened by a solitary woman, Juliana Hatfield, with two solitary guitars. She wasn't gifted enough to play them simultaneously, but she did switch from one to the other for different songs, and her music was interesting enough. Aimee and her four bandmates then took the stage and rocked the house! I may be conditioned to enjoy her music, from that dratted human playing Ms. Mann's mp3s through the iBook constantly, but it did seem to be a very enjoyable show, with two encores and a joke about how the only reason people were there was because they couldn't get tickets to the Bruce Springsteen concert at the FleetCenter the same night.
Speaking of whom, Andy got to listen to Bruce's encore (simulcast over the radio) while having late-night fish and chips at Redneck's (yes, a place called Redneck's, deepinahearta New England), but not before reaching out to grab a blonde by the wrist on the 'T.' Well, she was about to fall backwards when the vehicle engaged in an abrupt braking maneuver, and she did start to clutch his wrist back before equilibrium was restored. That Superman complex of his...
That was it for Friday; after eating, he went back to the Farrington and crashed. Not me, though, I never crash. Obviously, I'm not running Windows. :::snicker::: Saturday morning was gorgeous outside, so he decided to go to Salem. I fucked with him, though, by diverting his Green 'T' train before it reached Government Center, making him miss his originally-planned train to witch-town. Which town? Salem, that's which town! He did make another train there, after taking a pic or two in Boston Common and then heading to PNC Bank's ATM at Faneuil Hall for some cash. Andy spent a few hours wandering the streets of Salem and sat under a tree in Salem Common for a bit. Hey, what's with all the Brazilians around Boston, anyway? There were even two of them manning the Dunkin Donuts in Salem.
Anyway, the human headed back to Beantown and spent some more time in the Common... Boooooring! Took a few more pics, though frankly I don't think it was worth the film. Then he killed some time back at the room before heading out for dinner at T's Pub, where his waitress was working her first night and had to learn what beers were on tap by leaning over him and peering at his menu. Heh-heh-heh. He seemed to enjoy his steak tips in teriyaki sauce (as well as the two Guinnesses, because he left a disproportionately large gratuity)... Taking the 'T' to Copley, Andy walked to the Esplanade along the Charles and reminisced about the last time he'd spent time there, eleven years ago. I don't know; I remember Liz, and I don't think any reminiscing was in order, but that's just me.
And then the dolt got lost. Ha! Yes, he wandered right past Newbury Street, where he'd planned on walking for a bit, and found himself in a part of town he'd never explored before. Eventually, though, he made his way back to Copley and headed back to the room to call it a day.
Sunday morning found Andersen having breakfast (from Finagle a Bagel, which was also teeming with Brazilians) outdoors in Boston Common before he did the tourist thing and walked most of the Freedom Trail. The Granary Burying Ground (current home of Samuel Adams, the man, not the beer), the old City Hall building, the Old South Meeting Hall, Faneuil Hall (and why the hell is it spelled like that, anyway?!?), the Paul Revere House, the Old North Church... Hey, why is Copp's Hill Burying Ground considered a part of the Trail if ya can't even go inside? Doesn't seem fair somehow. Well, at that point he decided to turn around and take the 'T' to Harvard Square, where there was an 'Oktoberfest' going on. Sadly, however, it was more of a street festival than a beer binge, so Andy had to quench his thirst over lunch at Rock Bottom Brewery, where he had an evidently enjoyable oatmeal stout with his chicken-fried steak.
Back in Boston, looking for Newbury Street led to finding the Hard Rock Café instead. Heh-heh... A few gifts were purchased there and on Newbury, which he did manage to find later. Withdrew some more cash from the ATM and bought some lemonade from a stand outside the markets, then he went back to the room and finished up the last of his postcards. When he left the room and walked to a mailbox to drop them off, he was greeted by two skirted blondes carrying pamphlets and Stepford-like smiles. Creepy. Shrugging that off, our zero rode the 'T' to Boylston, then walked along the edge of Chinatown to the Blue Diner, a restored '50s joint, where he was waited on by two cute redheads (one of whom was working her first night). His cheeseburger and fries, and the waitresses, were so enjoyable that Andy left a 69% tip. I don't know if there's any significance to the number... Heh!
Then the man did his good deed for the year. Walking back from the diner, Andy decided to walk along the Common and take the 'T' from Park Street instead of Boylston. As he approached the station, he heard an odd, metallic noise coming from the road, and upon looking in that direction he saw an oncoming white SUV with sparks under the chassis; a second or two later, the vehicle swerved wildly, and it ended up crossing the double-yellow line, climbing the curb, and slamming into a column at the front of the Cathedral Church of St. Paul! Andersen quickly regained his senses and called 911 (forgetting to mention that he was in Boston, though the operator was able to figure that out) and reported the accident. Then, once he saw the driver exit the SUV, the journalist took over, and he snapped this picture. Heh-heh... By the time he got through the turnstiles downstairs at Park Street Station, sirens were audible.
That of course proved to be way too much excitement for one night, so he turned in after arriving back at the Farrington. On Monday morning, Andy had coffee and an orange scone at Sonsie on Newbury Street, and called his co-worked, David, just to rub in the fact that one of them was at work while the other was relaxing with a copy of the Boston Globe (which, by the way, didn't mention the man who'd taken his own path to God the night before). Checking out of the, er, establishment, he did a bit of train-changing on the 'T' system and eventually ended up at the New England Aquarium, where he was maybe a little too fascinated by the penguins. And that noise...! They don't sound anything like Burgess Meredith; listen for yourself! Oh, well. A blonde at the simulated tidal pool (and why is there always a blonde?) told Andy he could feel free to reach into the water and touch the hermit crabs, urchins, and scallops. There's a clam joke in there somewhere, but I'm not going to make it. ;) She either didn't get or didn't acknowledge Andy's 'seafood buffet' comment, too.
After looking at the other aquatic and rain forest life (and snapping a photo of another blonde feeding a penguin), and stopping at the gift shop briefly, it was time to head to South Station and the Acela Regional train home. Which took its sweet time getting home, allegedly because MetroNorth had priority over the tracks in Connecticut. Not that it much mattered to me; I made a few circuits from the iBook, through the provided electrical outlet at Andy's seat, into the power cables, and out into the world and back. You people don't know what travel is. And obviously Mr. Silva eventually made it home himself... 'Til next time, carbon-based life forms!