she never been to texas, never heard of king kong

On Friday Mariateresa, one of my dearest friends in the world, had a 5-hour stopover in Boston en route to Paris (her final stop being Trieste). I picked her up at Logan and drove her down to Faneuil Hall, where we had lunch at an outdoor cafe. “I haven’t had lobster in so long,” she cooed. Yes, it is possible to coo with a mouthful of lobster; MT can pull it off.

Finding myself with an early evening, I rescued Marie C. from her office and drove her back to Davis Square. We ate Chipotle and watched the last few episodes of Hustle S1. Let me again express my amazement at this Swiss watch of a show – how it consistently and precisely pulls off things that the average movie can’t get right half the time.

Saturday I got up early, threw my BC Superfan Alumnus tee on over a long-sleeved shirt, and joined Greg W on the subway. When we changed over at Park St, a person of indeterminate gender sat down across from us. If female, she looked an awful lot like Meat Loaf; if male, he couldn’t quite pull off the Sesame Street T-shirt he wore. This person rode until about the Warren St. stop on the B Line, then got off.

Saturday was perfect grilling weather and Casey had acquired some choice franks and burgers, courtesy of Hilltop. We lounged about on the lawn just outside the Robsham parking garage, drank beer before noon, and talked about BC’s recruiting prospects. “I’m excited about Emory Blake,” Serpico volunteered.

“Emory Blake?” I asked. “Didn’t he write a series of moderately successful pulp novels in the 30s? Like The Spider or Air Aces?”

The BC game turned into a nailbiter when quarterback Chris Crane failed to capitalize on UCF’s ineptitude. When he wasn’t throwing balls into the stands – seriously, two consecutive goal-line passes never even broke the plane of the end zone – he was tossing picks left and right. We developed a sudden but lasting fandom for Montel Harris and backup QB Dominique Davis. The final score, 34-7, does not indicate how close the game was after the first half.

Later that evening, I met Michelle, Victoria and Grace at the Burren for a quick drink. Michelle’s been a big booster for her goddaughter’s soccer games, apparently, and Grace has started working out again. Or trying to. Meanwhile, if Vickie does anything other than work 90-hour shifts at Fenway, I haven’t heard about it.

2 Responses

  1. You’re vastly overestimating me with the “again” part.

  2. I know. That’s what our friendship is, right?

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