December 21, 2003
Beantown
Missy’s dad needed one more trip before the new year to maintain Ultra-Unobtanium status on his frequent flier program, so he and my mother-in-law decided to take a pre-Christmas weekend in Boston. Since I’m hanging in Newport without much to do besides work, I went ahead and drove up for the day.
It was a beautiful winter solstice, mid-to-high 30’s, pretty calm, and sunny, so we did a walking tour, starting in Copely Square, and going past the Public Gardens which should be familiar to fans of a certain children’s book. Here’s me with the protagonists, Mrs. Mallard, Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Oack, Pack, and Quack:
We continued on past the site of the Boston Massacre, Paul Revere’s House, (Which, BTW, is way too easy to miss - there’s a tiny black sign that says “Paul Revere House” about 8 feet off the ground around the corner) The Old North Church, (Don’t you love public domain? Yeah? Write your congressman and tell them to reform current copyright law which essentially guarantees that there will never again be any material entering the public domain), and, possibly coolest of all, Copp’s Hill Burial Ground featuring graves from the 1600’s which is old, even by Alamo standards.
The highlight, though, was down by the New England Aquarium in a late lunch at Legal Seafood. (One quick note: If shrimp’s your thing, stay in Texas. Gulf of Mexico shrimp surpass any other shrimp in the world. So the next time you see the dude with the pickup full of 40 quart coolers on the side of IH-10, IH-37, or IH-45, stop off and pick up a couple of pounds of one of this planet’s finest treats) And it was good. I’m still working the butter and garlic out of my system. I had Cioppino (‘cause it sounds like Cipollini - honestly, click on the link. cool cycling stuff, and Eurotrash vibes out the wazoo) which is “lobster, scallops, shrimp, calamari, littlenecks, mussels, and whitefish in a light tomato broth with a side of jasmine rice” (check out the menu). Amazing. The chowda - Well, Matt, I’d kill Mom if I could get a bowl for my last meal. I love my mother, but it’s that good.
(BTW - The wharf just north of Long Wharf, where the Aquarium and the Legal at which we ate is sometimes known as “Hancock Wharf”, ‘cause that’s where John Hancock, he of the Declaration of Independence fame, had a run in with the British over a shipment of Spanish Wine. Talk about a conservative/libertarian wet dream - the big signature on the Declaration comes from a dude who believed in Free Trade, low taxes, and booze. When I read that historical marker today, I almost wet my pants. The warehouse on the wharf [1830’s vintage- practically new construction!] is an extremely solid granite fixture, turned into office space and extremely high-dollar condos now.)
We ended the day by riding the T over to Fenway, and lounging in the glory of the crappiest park in the Majors. I can dig it for the nostalgia factor, but in all honesty it’s a bad place to see a game. The seats suck unless you’re 5’ 7” or shorter (my size or smaller), there’s only like 2 beer stands in the whole place, and less bathrooms, and the sight lines are all screwed up. Yep, it’s got the Green Monster, but that’s just because the Sox’s management is too cheap to do much ‘cept perpetuate the myth of the Curse of the Bambino. (I was worried I wasn’t going to be able to fit that in the same paragraph as the first mention of the ‘Sox) For crying out loud, even the Astros got their guy.
This is the obligatory “artsy” shot of the T. Red Line, JFK station, waiting for the Braintree train, moving the camera before it was done processing data…
