Roller Coaster By The Sea

The best part about hanging out in Boston for unofficial EBONY events that really have nothing to do with the mission of this blog? That I don't have to bother remembering the exact names of every place we visit so they can be checked off the list. Over 4 days of vacation I had a drink in some 13 different places -- philly airport, mj o'connors, uno pizzeria (wtf), boston beer works, fenway park, some bar at 40k on the marathon course, the bar at the copley square mariott, hotel 140, solas on boylston, grafton street in harvard, some dive bar in cambridge, the boston airport bar, american airlines flight 1081.

MJ O'Connor's, an Irish bar downtown, found me watching the Bruins with some old Russian men who were drinking Jager (wtf?).
The Uno Pizzeria was lunch after running the inaugural Boston pre-marathon 5k, where my lying friend Jason may or may not have run a 15:30 and finished 7th or 8th. Technically it was a Sunday and they weren't supposed to serve us beer until after Noon, but we charmed our russian-immigrant Law & Order-loving waitress and her manager. Beers made their way to our table by 11:15.
Boston Beer Works is on Yawkey right next to Fenway and they've got a great assortment of their own brews. People seemed unusually fascinated by the forever diving & rising blueberries.

Our seats at Fenway were nearly obstructed by a pole. Lester pitched a gem, lowering his ERA from somewhere north of 8.5 to the lower 5's. Good times at the ball park.

Heading back to Boston Beer Works we tried to determine if these two kids were on a date or not. Jason eavesdrops.

Marathon Monday finds Rick, Annie and I at the 40k mark, just West of Fenway Park & Kenmore station, at a bar we never got the name of. Here's the marathon course outside the window.

We watch on television as Ryan Hall and Kara Goucher put forth admirable efforts on the New England roads. We head outside in time to see them both run by, along with the rest of the well performing elites.

The bar attempts to charge us a $10 cover for our return, and this was probably where I started to get on the surly bus. No cover was paid. Another beer down, then more watching of our friends as they begin their parade past our vantage point.
Moving downtown we congratulate the friends we can find, have a beer at the Mariott and Hotel 140, then head back up to Boylston to see the last of the finishers and to grab a couple more beers at yet another Irish bar. Two people wearing their marathon medals step outside for cigarettes. Surly levels escalate.
A T-trip to Harvard takes us to Grafton Street for a post-marathon dinner. I can't speak for everyone else, but the oysters, clam chowder, cuban sandwich & slice of flatbread pizza I had were delicious.
Looking to celebrate even more, Zach takes us to a dive bar around the corner where things progressed quickly, especially after Jason ordered 17 irish car bombs. Somehow Toto comes up on the jukebox twice. I only dropped one girl while dancing. We closed the place down like you'd expect out of our marathoner friends.


Tuesday...the Boston Airport bar in the B terminal only has microbrews, and this angers at least 5 people I heard attempt to order Sam Adams. My 4th 22 ouncer is paid for by a 40-something married republican woman from Texas who's father is a Pentecostal Pastor. She proclaims to have been "saved" multiple times in her life. Aside from not caring what others have to think about you there aren't many things we agree on.

Flight 1081, despite being several hours behind schedule, was actually pretty damn fun. One more beer is finished on the flight as the conversation in our row (me, my new Chicago Trader friend, and the 100% Irish woman) covers everything from My Blue Heaven to surprise birthday parties to $6 premium nuts. We're briefly joined by prolific reader Jules from 8 rows up, who probably didn't say 'Hi' to her Mom like I told her to.
I get home at 1:45am...96 hours after I started packing for the trip.