Written on 7-29-13.
I am on my way back to Denver, on a United flight with Joe. We packed in a fairly large amount of touristy Bostonian activities these past few days. As I stare out my window in seat 36A, Joe reads silently from The Prisoner of Zenda, a swashbuckling adventure story, one of the thousands of books he has accumulated over the years for his personal library in his downtown loft.
We did so many things, walked to so many different places, and experienced so many fun and funny experiences that recounting them all would take hours, so I will do my best to hit the highlights.
Yesterday, we played golf at Robert T. Lynch, a public golf course that borders the Brookline Country Club. It was a challenge and an adventure just to...
find it. Our cabbie did not know where either place was, so we tried to use his Garmin. That failed, so we relied on Joe’s iPhone, but without reception in some places that was not entirely helpful either. Eventually we found the Country Club, where we drove past the facade of a security guard in a booth and stopped to take a picture in front of the club itself. Our cabbie, although not an expert on the area, could at least take a decent picture. I snapped a couple more photos of some unknown green with its yellow flag on the way out.
Since I already had the number on my phone, I called the Robert T. Lynch Course to help us find it. The guy on the phone directed us to take five right turns upon exiting the Country Club, but we weren’t sure if we were even exiting the main entrance of the Country Club, and some of the right turns might be smaller turns that we should just ignore. We ended up just keeping anything that looked like a golf course to our right until we saw a sign, and we knew we were at the right place when we not only saw the sign, but also a memorial statue of Eddie and Francis, a great photo op for Joe and me after our round was over.
As we were driving around, befuddled as to where to go, I happened to glance out the window, and I caught sight of Francis Ouimet’s original home at 246 Clyde Street. It was surreal to see that house as I had just seen it in my book The Greatest Game Ever Played. Looking back, I should have asked to stop for another picture there, too, but we were running late and finding the golf course was getting more and more difficult, so I chose not to speak up.
Before I go back to how the golf and the golf course were, I want to recount the highlights of our downtown Boston excursions.
First, we got to go to Cheers, the original bar from the hugely successful TV show. I knew it would not be like the set, but it was not what I expected either. It was dark and a bit smelly. I don’t care for that damp, post-college party, old beer smell on the floor anymore, not that I enjoyed it in college either, but it was noticeable.
And, it was touristy, too. Walking to the “back room” required going through the gift shop that was wall to wall with Cheers memorabilia with items such as shot glasses and beer glasses (of course), t-shirts, Norm “action?” figures, baby clothing, pens, keychains, and more. I chose not to buy anything, but I can now say that I did have a beer at Cheers, a blueberry one, and it was cold and delicious. We went past the back room (which was wall to bar with people), headed upstairs to see the “set” bar, but it was closed due to last call already being called. Joe took a picture of me with the cardboard Norm, and I took a picture of Joe with the cardboard Diane. It was great!
On Saturday, we took the subway, or the “T,” to Fenway for a minor league baseball game. This was fantastic! It was the little brother team of Boston’s beloved Red Sox, the Portland Sea Dogs vs. the opposing Washington Senators. It was also “bring your dog to the ballpark day,” so we were able to pet a lovable, 6 month old Labradoodle named Atticus while waiting in the “Will Call” line as well as see many other adorable pooches.
While enjoying a double cheeseburger with grilled onions (the onions from Joe’s Italian Sausage dog; he didn’t want them), french fries, and a $7.50 cold Coke in a souvenir cup (free refills, though), we watched and enjoyed all the fun things that take place at a Saturday baseball game. We saw some outstanding baseball action, including a superhuman, diving catch by a Washington Senator outfielder. Four mascots? (including a lobster and a potato) ran a race, just because, as the announcer explained, "It’s hilarious."
Between innings, camera people would film the spectators, and it was entertaining to watch them realize that they were now up on the big screen for all to see. They would point and laugh and then watch themselves sideways, or just continue dancing or goofing off or doing whatever they were doing before having the spotlight suddenly thrust upon them.
After the end of the 5th inning, I got my only free soda refill and ordered a soft pretzel with cheese for dipping, and Joe got some ice cream. We stood and sang the baseball song at the 7th inning stretch, and in the end the beloved Sea Dogs were victorious.
We also had fun pretending we were Ferris and Cameron from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, chanting, “Hey batter, batter, suwiiiiing batter.” I know our singing helped, because one of the Senators hit an easy grounder and was abruptly thrown out at first base.
Although one foul ball came within a few yards of landing near us, we did not come away with a free souvenir. Joe wanted to buy a Sea Dog hat or a shirt or something, but they weren’t selling. He still might go online later and pick something up, because he thinks that name is so clever and funny.
We ate some amazing, fresh seafood. On the first night, I had some clam chowder and some shrimp with garlic and noodles at Legal Seafood on the first night; “If it’s not fresh, it’s not legal.” Joe had Sole, a favorite dish of his late father.
On Saturday evening, we had one small lobster each at the Sail Loft Seafood Restaurant. It was recommended to us as a smaller, less touristy seafood place by one of the trolley guys before we took our twilight trolley tour. We had to wait over an hour to get a table overlooking the wharf, but we used that time to do some shopping and check out even more of the sights and sounds of Boston. It was my first time to eat a lobster with all the tools (the nutcracker/shellcracker thing and the tiny fork), and I did just fine. Joe, the more experienced one, was impressed.
The lobster was fresh and flavorful, but Joe and I both agreed that anything dipped in butter sauce greatly improves the taste. For dessert, we had our first Boston Cream Pie. We decided to compare and determine which one was better, the one here or the one at our hotel, the Omni Parker, where we would have a second helping on Sunday night.
The Omni Parker won going away. We both agreed that the consistent cold temperature throughout and the dense and moist cake topped the uneven temperature and lighter feel of the Sail Loft’s attempt. The presentation was better as well, with a swirling design of caramel and chocolate sauces and a fresh strawberry for an added splash of color. Suddenly, Joe and I were expert food critics.
We saw two hilarious parking situations. While walking around on Friday night, we stopped to watch a large Dodge Ram pick-up truck squeeze into a space with sparsely a total foot available. The driver see-sawed back and forth a la Austin Powers style until he had his five or six inches on both sides. We wondered if his leaving later would be as bizarre as his arrival.
Last night, we witnessed an equally odd parking adventure outside the Beantown Pub. As I drank my cold Sam Adams across the street from a cold Sam Adams (I got that joke, I must confess, from our trolley tour guide on our Twilight Tour), a lady and her male friend reverse parallel parked (sort of) across the street from our window.
Quite the opposite of the Dodge Ram guy, she had plenty of room, but she could not get situated satisfactorily. She pulled forwards. She backed up. She moved up a bit more. She turned her tires to the right. She used her brakes, and she twisted around. She moved her car forward, put it in reverse, and arbitrarily moved it right back to where it had just started. It was the best free entertainment of our long weekend. Her friend got out to help, but he made things worse, forcing her to continue her awkward back and forth dance for a few minutes more.
After dinner, we played on the coin-operated billiard tables at the Beantown Pub. I accidentally knocked the 8-ball in during the first game. Joe knocked it in to lose the second, and then he trounced me, running the table in the third. The table was covered with my stripes after he was done. It’s fair to say that Joe beat me as easily at pool as I had beaten him earlier in golf (not that we were competing), but Joe doesn’t really play golf, and I do have some experience at pool.
Until next time...
I am on my way back to Denver, on a United flight with Joe. We packed in a fairly large amount of touristy Bostonian activities these past few days. As I stare out my window in seat 36A, Joe reads silently from The Prisoner of Zenda, a swashbuckling adventure story, one of the thousands of books he has accumulated over the years for his personal library in his downtown loft.
We did so many things, walked to so many different places, and experienced so many fun and funny experiences that recounting them all would take hours, so I will do my best to hit the highlights.
Yesterday, we played golf at Robert T. Lynch, a public golf course that borders the Brookline Country Club. It was a challenge and an adventure just to...
find it. Our cabbie did not know where either place was, so we tried to use his Garmin. That failed, so we relied on Joe’s iPhone, but without reception in some places that was not entirely helpful either. Eventually we found the Country Club, where we drove past the facade of a security guard in a booth and stopped to take a picture in front of the club itself. Our cabbie, although not an expert on the area, could at least take a decent picture. I snapped a couple more photos of some unknown green with its yellow flag on the way out.
Since I already had the number on my phone, I called the Robert T. Lynch Course to help us find it. The guy on the phone directed us to take five right turns upon exiting the Country Club, but we weren’t sure if we were even exiting the main entrance of the Country Club, and some of the right turns might be smaller turns that we should just ignore. We ended up just keeping anything that looked like a golf course to our right until we saw a sign, and we knew we were at the right place when we not only saw the sign, but also a memorial statue of Eddie and Francis, a great photo op for Joe and me after our round was over.
As we were driving around, befuddled as to where to go, I happened to glance out the window, and I caught sight of Francis Ouimet’s original home at 246 Clyde Street. It was surreal to see that house as I had just seen it in my book The Greatest Game Ever Played. Looking back, I should have asked to stop for another picture there, too, but we were running late and finding the golf course was getting more and more difficult, so I chose not to speak up.
Before I go back to how the golf and the golf course were, I want to recount the highlights of our downtown Boston excursions.
First, we got to go to Cheers, the original bar from the hugely successful TV show. I knew it would not be like the set, but it was not what I expected either. It was dark and a bit smelly. I don’t care for that damp, post-college party, old beer smell on the floor anymore, not that I enjoyed it in college either, but it was noticeable.
And, it was touristy, too. Walking to the “back room” required going through the gift shop that was wall to wall with Cheers memorabilia with items such as shot glasses and beer glasses (of course), t-shirts, Norm “action?” figures, baby clothing, pens, keychains, and more. I chose not to buy anything, but I can now say that I did have a beer at Cheers, a blueberry one, and it was cold and delicious. We went past the back room (which was wall to bar with people), headed upstairs to see the “set” bar, but it was closed due to last call already being called. Joe took a picture of me with the cardboard Norm, and I took a picture of Joe with the cardboard Diane. It was great!
On Saturday, we took the subway, or the “T,” to Fenway for a minor league baseball game. This was fantastic! It was the little brother team of Boston’s beloved Red Sox, the Portland Sea Dogs vs. the opposing Washington Senators. It was also “bring your dog to the ballpark day,” so we were able to pet a lovable, 6 month old Labradoodle named Atticus while waiting in the “Will Call” line as well as see many other adorable pooches.
While enjoying a double cheeseburger with grilled onions (the onions from Joe’s Italian Sausage dog; he didn’t want them), french fries, and a $7.50 cold Coke in a souvenir cup (free refills, though), we watched and enjoyed all the fun things that take place at a Saturday baseball game. We saw some outstanding baseball action, including a superhuman, diving catch by a Washington Senator outfielder. Four mascots? (including a lobster and a potato) ran a race, just because, as the announcer explained, "It’s hilarious."
Between innings, camera people would film the spectators, and it was entertaining to watch them realize that they were now up on the big screen for all to see. They would point and laugh and then watch themselves sideways, or just continue dancing or goofing off or doing whatever they were doing before having the spotlight suddenly thrust upon them.
After the end of the 5th inning, I got my only free soda refill and ordered a soft pretzel with cheese for dipping, and Joe got some ice cream. We stood and sang the baseball song at the 7th inning stretch, and in the end the beloved Sea Dogs were victorious.
We also had fun pretending we were Ferris and Cameron from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, chanting, “Hey batter, batter, suwiiiiing batter.” I know our singing helped, because one of the Senators hit an easy grounder and was abruptly thrown out at first base.
Although one foul ball came within a few yards of landing near us, we did not come away with a free souvenir. Joe wanted to buy a Sea Dog hat or a shirt or something, but they weren’t selling. He still might go online later and pick something up, because he thinks that name is so clever and funny.
We ate some amazing, fresh seafood. On the first night, I had some clam chowder and some shrimp with garlic and noodles at Legal Seafood on the first night; “If it’s not fresh, it’s not legal.” Joe had Sole, a favorite dish of his late father.
On Saturday evening, we had one small lobster each at the Sail Loft Seafood Restaurant. It was recommended to us as a smaller, less touristy seafood place by one of the trolley guys before we took our twilight trolley tour. We had to wait over an hour to get a table overlooking the wharf, but we used that time to do some shopping and check out even more of the sights and sounds of Boston. It was my first time to eat a lobster with all the tools (the nutcracker/shellcracker thing and the tiny fork), and I did just fine. Joe, the more experienced one, was impressed.
The lobster was fresh and flavorful, but Joe and I both agreed that anything dipped in butter sauce greatly improves the taste. For dessert, we had our first Boston Cream Pie. We decided to compare and determine which one was better, the one here or the one at our hotel, the Omni Parker, where we would have a second helping on Sunday night.
The Omni Parker won going away. We both agreed that the consistent cold temperature throughout and the dense and moist cake topped the uneven temperature and lighter feel of the Sail Loft’s attempt. The presentation was better as well, with a swirling design of caramel and chocolate sauces and a fresh strawberry for an added splash of color. Suddenly, Joe and I were expert food critics.
We saw two hilarious parking situations. While walking around on Friday night, we stopped to watch a large Dodge Ram pick-up truck squeeze into a space with sparsely a total foot available. The driver see-sawed back and forth a la Austin Powers style until he had his five or six inches on both sides. We wondered if his leaving later would be as bizarre as his arrival.
Last night, we witnessed an equally odd parking adventure outside the Beantown Pub. As I drank my cold Sam Adams across the street from a cold Sam Adams (I got that joke, I must confess, from our trolley tour guide on our Twilight Tour), a lady and her male friend reverse parallel parked (sort of) across the street from our window.
Quite the opposite of the Dodge Ram guy, she had plenty of room, but she could not get situated satisfactorily. She pulled forwards. She backed up. She moved up a bit more. She turned her tires to the right. She used her brakes, and she twisted around. She moved her car forward, put it in reverse, and arbitrarily moved it right back to where it had just started. It was the best free entertainment of our long weekend. Her friend got out to help, but he made things worse, forcing her to continue her awkward back and forth dance for a few minutes more.
After dinner, we played on the coin-operated billiard tables at the Beantown Pub. I accidentally knocked the 8-ball in during the first game. Joe knocked it in to lose the second, and then he trounced me, running the table in the third. The table was covered with my stripes after he was done. It’s fair to say that Joe beat me as easily at pool as I had beaten him earlier in golf (not that we were competing), but Joe doesn’t really play golf, and I do have some experience at pool.
Until next time...
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