It was a beautiful day and our heads were clearing from all the salvia and brewskies. Naturally it was time for a re-clouding. We found Ami's bar and bellied up but sadly I was informed that she had injured herself the night prior and took the day off :( She later told me that she got drunk, fell and hurt her ass bone (or, Coccyx, if you will) So me and Casey went ahead and had a couple overpriced drinks and appetizers before moving on into the cold and sunny coldiness...
We journied around the financial district a bit until Casey couldn't feel her hands anymore. Now you wouldn't expect a glove purchase in Boston in 35 degree weather to be difficult. But after a trip to TJ Maxx, CVS and street vendors we were still hella gloveless and like, "Whuu..?!?"
The lady at TJ Maxx (more like TJ minimum. Hah!) had the nerve to tell us without cracking a smile that the winter clothing season had ended and that there would be NOWHERE to buy gloves anymore....
Reeeeal smart, Boston. It's winter there 8 months out of the year but you'd better fuckin' get ready for it by March 1st! Anyways, long story short, it gave us the chance to wander into Chinatown where there were gloves aplenty. And clean, quiet streets that you wouldn't even dream of finding in SF or NY's C-towns.
After a bit more tourism we headed to the MIT/sciency nerd district to meet Leile at his dreary office job as a professors assistant. Casey had to help him figure out some ridiculous request his boss had given him for a word document with no lines seperating tables or something. *Yawn*
We couldn't get outta' there fast enough. Leile had told me about a secret MIT bar called the "Muddy river" inside one of the classroom halls. Apparently some construction workers and homeless people had taken a liking to the cheap ass beer also and began going there to mingle with the computer programmer crowd. Sounded like fun to me!
It was a nice little place actually. It was super strange walking through this giant old dormitory building to get to it though. We ordered up some pitchers of Bud for $6each and were loving it. That is...until we noticed that some people around us had not just regular old pitchers of Bud....but GREEN pitchers of Bud!! Wtf?! Where was this coming from?! We had asked around the days prior but it seemed that most places had ended this grand tradition for fear of altering the taste of the beer and for the general unhealthiness of drinking that much food coloring. We asked the bartender to hook us up and he said, "Welp. That's not up t'me ya' see. You gotta' ask ol' scrappy over yonder."
Okay, that's not really how he talked. But that's secretly how I wish all bartenders sounded. But anyway, yeah, fuckin' creepy. The food coloring was just coming out of the pocket of some old irish dude sitting at the bar by himself. Leile asked if he could score off of him and he graced us with a couple squirts. Hooray!
By then we were getting hungry and Leile, being the plan master for the day, had found out that one of his favorite bar/restaurant/bowling alleys was doing free "candlepin" bowling at 9. Now...if you've never heard of candlepin bowling, consider yourself lucky. It's a New England bastardization of real bowling. They use super tiny, handheld balls and you basically just huck them at suuuper skinny little pins as hard as you can with no hope of aiming. But it was free and the place sounded fun so we headed off to Jamaica Plains.
Upon arrival, we were met by Ami (sore butt and all) and Leile's GF. We sat down to dinner and a round of "Brubakers" which is a dirty old bottle of beer that is apparently the Boston hipster version of Pabst. The food at this place, (the Milky Way), was really fucking good. It was funny, the rest of the place was a dirty old bar but the dining area was all trendy and fancy looking. We drank, we talked, we laughed, we ate. It was a grand ol' time. A DJ spinning "real vinyl" as his advertisement had touted began playing old Dub 45's when Grifto, the hipster clown prince of Ireland proceeded to lose his mind on the dancefloor!
Hahahaha!! So funny...anyways. We played a few rounds of CP bowling and got properly smashed. I almost got into a fight with a couple townies at the bar when I remarked out loud to them that I was mad at not being able to get irish carbombs anywhere and they retorted with a big shit-eating grin that perhaps it was because of "my attitude". We got into a little back and forth about where I was from and how it was insulting to order carbombs. Oh man, I was steamed. Me and Leile actually went back to look for them after I delivered the beers but they had taken off. Fearing my unholy wrath :)
We a-l-m-o-s-t missed the last train back to Leile's which would have been pure balls. But thankfully we made it home in one piece. One DRUNK piece. But that wasn't the end, goddamnit! We were set on drinking at least one freaking carbomb before leaving this state. So Leilers rounded up some bootleg fixin's and we had our final drink in Boston while laughing in the face of irish history and all the idiots who complained about us calling them carbombers.
Dumbasses. The next morning Casey and I met up with my brother who had just returned from Italy and had some Cuban sandwiches. He saw us off to the Fung-Wah and we rode off into the sunset like Seamus O' Toolahan at the battle of Crossberry, whippin' dynamite at housewives and children with a bottle of whiskey at the ready.
THE END
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