Jun 23 2008
Park and Hide
Faneuil Hall is one of the better known landmarks here in Boston. If you’ve visited our fair city, chances are you’ve strolled the charming cobbled streets while picking up souvenirs to bring back to the folks at home. If you’ve lived here, it’s a safe bet that you’ve cursed the freakin’ stone streets while hobbling in uncomfortable shoes on the way to meet friends for an evening out.
I had one such evening on Saturday. There are not that many people for whom I’d brave the 40 minutes looking for parking in Boston around Faneuil Hall. Finsy is one of ‘em and her bachelorette party ended up in an establishment in Quincy Market. Ahhh… there’s nothing quite like the smell of urine and sausages on the first day of summer. I’d probably crawl on my tummy through broken glass for that girl. She’s well worth it.
Years ago I appropriated my life philosophy T-shirt ripping-off Buddhist philosophy:
Where ever you go, there you are.
In short, it was a really fun (albeit oppressively hot and sweaty) night of dancing for us. I had several of my signature drink: water on the rocks with a twist. Beverage-wise: I was covered but there was a group of fellow bar patrons who begged to disagree. Literally begged.
These gents had "extra" mixed drink of the green persuasion for which they were trying to find a good looking home. The optimist locked away in the depth of my soul wanted to believe that they had caught the spirit from Oprah’s philanthropy contest and just wanted to pay it forward. After 15 minutes of well-mannered refusals from my girl friends’ it became clear that this particular brood was simply too forward. It was past time to stop 
trying to give big and just go home. Accordingly, the dainty white gloves came off and my scrappy side came out to play. As great of a character reference as the tattoo on their ringleader’s flabby chest was, we were all pretty attached to remembering the next 12-14 hours. Note to self: there is no polite way to turn-down a free Rufeetini.
For the record, I doubt that there were any additives to the questionable drink in question. They were probably nice, albeit clueless, guys who unfortunately made it well into their twenties without learning that there are certain things you just don’t do:
FOR GIRLS: Do not accept drinks of unknown origin from sketchy men in bars. This goes along with watching your drink being poured by the bartender, never leaving it unattended and grasping the top so that your palm covers the top as you’re walking through a crowded room.
FOR GUYS: Treat every girl you meet as you would like your mother/sister/niece/daughter to be treated as they venture out into the big bad world. In other words, do not seek to disrupt someone to complying with the above rule. If you don’t act like ladies are meat to please you, they will most likely be pleased to meet you.
Do you see the possibilities of this brave new world?
- Ladies won’t be so defensive and bitchy.
- Dudes will have a better shot at actually getting laid.
Everybody wins. Let’s make this happen people.
I have always been a fan of milk-flavored milk. It does a body good. Chocolate milk – that’s super-yum too. My roommate drinks a bottle of it a day for breakfast.
