Weekend Number 18: New England

Firstly, let me disclaim that this trip was Weekend Number 18 (in May), but due to my Blog-cation, I am not writing it until now. Let us commence.

Let's start with the beginning this time. The beginning isn't really the weekend at all, but it's my blog--deal with it. The beginning was a Thursday night when I had a red-eye flight to Boston. I've never been to Boston (nor Massachusetts, nor New England) and thought it would be a lovely opportunity to go. John was there for work (about 3-weeks) and I figured Pfizer wouldn't mind me bunking with John while they pay for the hotel. Lovely. So it's a Thursday night, I go through security, yada yada, normal stuff, get on the plane, great.

We are flying, everything is normal, it's a red-eye, we are all getting sleepy when, out of nowhere comes the flight attendant and her PA to the tune of, "Thank you for choosing Delta. We are glad we have jobs because we are officially out of bankruptcy now, and today/tomorrow (cuz it would be Friday on the East Coast) marks the official day we are back on the NYSE (she didn't say the acronym but yeah, it's easier). We would like to have you join us in celebrating with a champagne toast." The lady next to me, whom I think fondly of to this day, kinda gave me a look like, "Shit--did she say, champs!?" And I gave her the same look back. So the flight attendants scuttle down the isles, passing out tiny, almost thimble-sized containers of champagne. Had a sip, then another, it was gone, great. Thank you Delta. So I'm sitting here, with my new BFF "36A" (that's not her bra size, that's her seat assignment) and neither of us could sleep. It was like a cooky boots crazyland. Everyone--quite literally everyone--was fast asleep except me and 36A. It was midnight in San Diego, it was 3:00 am (insert Matchbox 20 song) in Boston, and I was up up up. Thank GOD there was an in-flight movie, which who says that, but it was a movie with Mandy Moore (who I adore), so I watched that. So did 36A but she didn't have headphones so she umm, just watched it I guess. Hmm... now that I think about it, I love Mandy Moore so much I must have gasped a couple times (like, you know, the gay-gasp), and maybe I kept 36A up the whole time. Well, water under the bridge.

Okay, I get to Boston it's about a zillion in the morning at this point, and I'm greeting by bright-eyed John with a sign that says, "Mr. Shyne" and something else like "Leone Tours -we only provide the best." or something like that. Well, that's a very, very cute gesture, however, it was done with a crumply sheet of cardboard and a big ol' black sharpie, so... it looked like some homeless person's sign. Anyway... nice gesture, not the best execution, and "A" for effort. John and I take the "T" (that's Boston's "MAX" or "BART" if you will) back to the hotel, I finally sleep, then we get up and head out.

Boston is very cute, very historic, with stout, brick buildings from the 1700's neighboring glass and metal high rises from the 2000's. It's very cool. Oh and by cool, I mean cold. It was the beginning of May and it was still at temperatures San Diego has never seen before. Ever. My thoughts on Boston: it's nothing but churches, pubs, and Paul Revere. That's it. That night we go out to one of the gay bars, The Machine (the gays have the funniest names for stuff). We go there, and again LITERALLY no one spoke to us. I was like, "What the freakin' hell is going on?" I guess people in Boston need to conserve all their energy to sustaining human body temperature and they cannot afford to waste precious calories on interaction--I guess one could call them fidget bitches. HA! I even laughed at that.

Okay the next day John and I took this walking tour of Boston. So we get to where they are all meeting, pay the guide and go. Now, if you all don't know I like walking tours--I like the narration and the anecdotes, it's lovely--but I seriously could have done what she did, if not better, and I don't even live there. We would be walking along and like, there'd be a plaque on a building, she'd go up and read it, then recite what it said. Like, I paid you for what? I mean, she had other stories and stuff, but it was just so ridiculously funny. She's all, "Oh what's this? Oh this is interesting! Everybody! Group! Please come look at this!" You're joking me, lady. And she wasn't even dressed up like Mother Goose or Paul Revere or whatever. Anyway, it was still money worth spent (more so for the story I get to tell of the tour, rather than the tour itself). Okay, so later we had plans--well, John had plans--I had no idea what they were. I guess that's called a surprise. John took me to the "Theatre District" and the whole time I was thinking to myself, "Shit--he better have not gotten tickets to a musical--he knows how much I dislike musicals." We turn into some alley, then up stairs, and it turns out we got tix to Blue Man Group.

Relief.

So we did the Blue Man group, they pounded their drums and ate cereal and ran around acting like mute fools, but it was a very nice show and I very much enjoyed the surprise (and it wasn't a musical). After the show we go to some pub, eat our food, some guy smashes his hand into a beer glass, and we leave, back into the winter wonderland that was Boston. The next day was a little more leisurely--we went to the iMax at the Boston Aquarium and watched a show on whales (I was happy) and took a city tour via Old Town Trolley. We have these in SD too; you know, the orange and green bus/trolley looking contraptions that are zipping all over town. Anyway, it was very, very cool and I would recommend them to anyone--worth the money. We saw Paul Revere's house, the Boston Convention Center, The Big Dig, all the Boston sights. The next day we just had a nice breakfast in South Boston and I went back to the airport (cuz John still had work on the East Coast to do).

Well, that pretty much sums up my trip and my weekend. Weekend Number 18, you'll be remembered as the most "wicked sweet bro'" weekend of 2007. Lovely.