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quislibetJust yesterday I was saying that the Pats were the only major local sports team that don't mess with my commute -- and then this morning (1) the train at Salem was so packed that they weren't accepting new passengers and (2) the bus I caught instead -- which was full of boisterous teenagers, mostly girls, speaking so loudly that it hurt my ears in a rock-concert sort of way -- took me right downtown, a block away from where the "welcome our boys home" parade spectators were gathering, which at least explained why there were so many face-painted revelers about.
One teenaged girl (not one from the bus) was carrying a posterboard sign that promised Tom Brady she'd have his baby.
On the plus side, when I finally (after a couple of tries) found my way to the Green Line platforms of Park St. Station (using the underground route, and fantasizing that at least one of the numbered black doors lining the concourse led somewhere Really Interesting -- I envision dark figures furtively stopping at, say, number 5, pulling out a nondescript key, and hurriedly entering and closing the door before passersby can get a glimpse of the elevator to SEAL's [*] high-tech subterranean lair / the set of stairs chiseled from beneath) -- when, I say, I got to Park Street Station, I was rewarded with the sound of someone playing "If Ever I Would Leave You" on a tuba, badly. I gave him a dollar.
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[*] The Society to Eliminate All Land-dwellers: Today Boston; Tomorrow, an Area Slightly South and West of Boston!
One teenaged girl (not one from the bus) was carrying a posterboard sign that promised Tom Brady she'd have his baby.
On the plus side, when I finally (after a couple of tries) found my way to the Green Line platforms of Park St. Station (using the underground route, and fantasizing that at least one of the numbered black doors lining the concourse led somewhere Really Interesting -- I envision dark figures furtively stopping at, say, number 5, pulling out a nondescript key, and hurriedly entering and closing the door before passersby can get a glimpse of the elevator to SEAL's [*] high-tech subterranean lair / the set of stairs chiseled from beneath) -- when, I say, I got to Park Street Station, I was rewarded with the sound of someone playing "If Ever I Would Leave You" on a tuba, badly. I gave him a dollar.
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[*] The Society to Eliminate All Land-dwellers: Today Boston; Tomorrow, an Area Slightly South and West of Boston!
