My Voyage to the Land of MassHoles

So I took a little road trip to Boston, MA this past weekend and it was nothing short of what I had expected: lots of booze and lots of assholes. While the latter isn't entirely true; most locals were real cool, but I found my fair share that played right into the stereotype. More on that later.

I'll spare the shitty road trip details because there is nothing fun about a 12 hour drive. 2 important findings. Speed limit in Canada is consistent with the 'boring" stereotype of their people: 100km/h (about 60 mph for the non-math saavy) It is painfully slow, frustrating, and albeit boring. Secondly, country music, podcasts, and good conversation with an old friend are a great cure for killing time. I highly suggest it for your next rodeo.

I'll also exclude the mundane details of my travels and get right to the shit you want to read about: the drinking and the antics. This accounts for 90% of my days on vacation, if you were really wondering about the rest, you can fill in the blanks yourself.

Across the streetfrom the burial grounds of John Hancock,
Samuel Adams, and  Ben Franklin.

We started off, on a blistering summer day, doing the only thing that could keep the sweat from my brow, ducking into an air conditioned establishment and throwing back some bronsons. Heading to the RedSox game later that night called for a pre-drink anyway, and since it was 2pm, we were way overdue. We slugged down a few at Beantown Pub, and meandered down to "Cheers", a bar inspired by the show. Now to say I was upset that Woody Harrelson wasn't behind the bar and there was not a fat mailman drowning his sorrows at the end of the bar, is an understatement. Also nobody knew our names, and I 'm positive, judging by our level of intoxication at this point, noone gave a fuck. I did, howerver, have one of the most delicious local beers, Wachusett Blueberry Ale, which made me feel like a local.

Now on to Fenway Park, but not with out a trip down Beacon Hill, one of the most scenic, ritzy areas in the city. We finally made it to the park with time to spare to hit, in my opinion, the best bar Boston had to offer, Game On. There, I met up with a familiar face in a strange place, my roommate from college, "Boston". After a few shots of Patron and a couple laughs, it was on to the game.

Fenway is breath taking, but give me Comerica Park any day. It was Masshole central. We were literally on top of people screaming at us, spilling my $9 bud light with every twist and turn. I've had enough by the third inning so it was time for another bar. Just my luck there was a bench clearing brawl/hug fest as soon as we left. I'll let you decide for yourself with video evidence.



A few purchases of the "Sedins: 2 Girls No Cup" shirts later, we were back at the hotel getting our Health Ledger on.

Ironic name choice. This was probably
the worst bar  there.

The next day more traveling in the city until we all reached an unprecedented conclusion: it's 3pm and I can count my consumption of drinks on one hand. The sight seeing in the Long Wharf/Quincy Market area was a real good time, but if you've seen one art fair street shop gathering, you've seen 'em all. The group had all split up and it was time for a little impromptu pub crawl. Whaddaya know? Everyone had the same idea. Tired of the sun and aching for a totty, the whole group met at Good Bar unplanned, as if it were some sort of animal instinct. Must. Booze. Now. The closest bar did it's trick. At this point, I had to take picture of every bar entrance so I could actually remember where I 've been. We hit about 7 bars in 2 hours which also shared its good amount of alcoholic highlights.

At Amos Plow, the bartender was telling us crazy stories of MDMA -infused Bonnaroo moments and concocting shots I've never heard of, which is rare. "Jameson with a pickle juice back" (Amazing). You just slam pickle juice after you rock the whiskey shot, and the "Breakfast shot", which I just decided I'm renaming "The Breakfast Club" (because it was Saturday afternoon with good company and the bartender reminded me of a young Anthony Michael Hall). It was a shot of Jameson chased with a shot of 1/2 orange juice, 1/2 butterscotch schnapps. This shot tasted just like pancakes and maple syrup. Nicely done "weird science"(my new nickname for this bartender.)

"The Breakfast Club" before.....

.....and after

We decided it was time to tone it down so we didn't look like the after effects of "The Breakfast Club" shot shown in the picture. I mean we were going to dinner in the North End, and since it's one of the classier destinations in the city, we needed to remember dinner. By toning it down, of course I mean eat something big enough to soak up the whiskey, but small enough to keep my buzzz on. We headed to the Salty Dog for some tasty local lager and eats. Prettay, prettay, pretty good.

At dusk, we were on to the North End. After passing around a couple bottles of Giacomo Grimaldi 2003 ($150 a pop), and omnom-ing some dago sounding veal dish, I was in alcohol/food coma mode and the only thing that could wash that down was a fat stogie at the local cigar bar, Stanza di Sigai  Real legit place.

All in all it was a great weekend funded completely by some very generous people who did not tire easily of our messy alcoholism. And to that I extend my gratitude.

Editors Note: I feel like I should address this, being a pro-Detroit website and all. In no way shape or form am I on my knees about this city. It was a great time, with great people, in a great city. However, when I told the locals I was from Detroit, they gave me a look like a booger just shot out of my face and I was the most grotesque individual on the planet. I made it a point to talk to these people for a while to show that Detroit breeds intelligent, cultured people that can handle themselves after 15 drinks and still bring a lot to the table. I fucked them up with some truth that Detroit is a diamond in the rough, and they should break out of their comfort zone and check it out for themselves before judging. If you take a trip, I challenge you to do the same, which from my experience, made for a much more enjoyable time. Put your hands up for Detroit. I love this city.