Last week I drove into Boston for St. Patrick’s Day. This is something I will never do again.
Thirty-two bucks to park, an hour and a half standing in line at Mr. Dooley’s, and an ill-advised double-espresso that kept me awake all night are just the highlights. Next year I’d rather go to the dentist.
My friend Larry had a similar experience. He was so looking forward to the Green Dragon, a place where, according to him, the American Revolution was hatched. “Imagine Jefferson and Franklin whispering over a pint,” he said to me with genuine excitement. Instead all he got to see was people puking in line and arguing with the bouncers.
While I admire people who seem to enjoy each other’s company en masse, particularly when alcohol is involved, I just don’t understand them. Corned beef, beer, and friends, I get. Public drunk-stumbling, cattle herding, and price gouging I don’t. (A twenty dollar cover to spend money in your tavern, Mr. Dooley’s? Really?)
I did enjoy the walk through the north end with Sarah, where I took the picture below. I think it captures both cultures perfectly.
