Day 9 (8/27), Boston - Part 1: Southie

To begin our morning, Jen took us to Attleboro's finest restaurant, Babe's Place. This was the type of greasy place that could be found in any small town in America. The kind with a long row of counter seating, with the people at them drinking cheap Folgers coffee, and an assortment of tables and booths around them. I could have bought the same ham and cheese omelet here as I could at Denny's. However, two things set this place apart from all the others. First, the waitresses had awesome accents. Serious. They were such distinct New England accents (not necessarily a Boston accent) that I almost laughed when I heard them. Secondly, they had eggs Benedict on the menu. And while they are typically only sold on Sundays, they made an exception and cooked some up for us. Yay!

We left Babe's, blew through Attleboro, and headed to Boston. For multiple reasons, I've always wanted to visit Boston. For one, I'm big into cities, so Boston, with its rich history, has always appealed. Also, part of that history involves the settlement of generations of Irish immigrants, and with my cultural pride, it seems like a city that I would vibe with. Lastly, my good friend, Gibby, lives there.

The plan was to do some site seeing early in the day and, when Gibby got off work, hook up with him. When we got into the city around 11:00, we went straight to South Boston, where we walked through the neighborhood, stopping at no fewer than three bars. Yes, it was early, but we were excited to be in Boston and, more specifically, Southie. Plus, the neighborhood didn't offer much else to do. So, with Jenny as our guide, we stopped first at the Boston Beer Garden on Broadway. Although big and fancy, this place lacked the character that I envisioned of a Southie bar. With the urge to leave after the first drink, the Beer Garden served only the purpose of wetting our whistle before hitting up bars as we explored the neighborhood.

The second bar we went to, the Quencher, was the quintessential neighborhood hang. The patrons spoke of their 20 plus years of frequenting the place. Displaying on the walls were pictures of the Red Sox, famous people who have come into the bar, and newspaper articles talking about Southie. They sold tee shirts that read, "South Boston is Behind Me," proclaiming their pride for the neighborhood. There was also a dog, Shorty, hanging out (figuratively and literally, as the dog had ginormous balls and his scrabble bag dragged on the floor).

After a couple drinks at The Quencher, we decided to explore the neighborhood a bit more. The neighborhood, although obviously prideful and full of tradition, was not what I had envisioned. Yes, there was Irish pride, as evidenced by the various bars' names, Irish flags and other insignia, but it did not appear to be a rough and tumble area, as portrayed in movies. However, the densely packed, low-rise buildings, peppered with quaint neighborhood bars, did offer a certain charm.

As we explored Southie, we visited a couple other bars: the L Street Tavern and the Shannon Tavern. L Street was ran by a friendly bar tender who, in between flirting with Maggie and Jen, cursed the bus loads of tourists who flock to the bar due to its appearance in the movie, Good Will Hunting. It was made famous as a local hang for Ben Affleck and Matt Damon's characters in the movie, which took place in Boston, mostly in Southie. Despite the loathing of tourists, the bar did not shun its Hollywood connection, as pictures of Affleck, Damon, and Robin Williams made their place amongst other Irish themed wall adornments.

The Shannon Tavern, making reference to one of Ireland's rivers, was probably the most non-descript of the bars we went to. Filled with old-timers playing the lottery and drinking, the bar, on the bottom floor of a corner residential building, was only distinguished by a small Guinness sign hanging above the door and a shamrock displayed on the outer wall.

While at the Shannon, Gibby called to let us know he was off work. He gave us directions to his downtown apartment, the One Devonshire, and we were on our way, sadly leaving Southie behind. As it turned out, our early morning drinking in Southie would pale in comparison to what was in store later that night.

Day 8 (8/26), "Schmidtty, we got an exit."

Sunday morning, our last in Philly.

We awoke at Maggie's brother's house a bit on the tired side. The previous day was long, busy, and hard on the body (alcohol and extreme heat don't mix well). Sunday wouldn't be much different, as we had a lot planned on our last day in Philly. First on the list was to catch a Phillies game.

The game started at 1:00, but we were at least an hour from the park, as well as hungry and in need of coffee, so we decided to leave fairly early in the morning. As we approached Citizens Bank Park, we decided to splurge and pay for a parking spot close to the stadium. We arrived at about 10:30 AM. When we pulled in to the park, we realized we drove through the wrong entrance. When we explained this to the man collecting a $20 charge, he understood our mistake and was sympathetic to our desire to go to the cheaper parking lot. He was also intent on making a big scene out of our mistake, and he proceeded to yell at his partners to make way for us to do a U-turn and exit through the entrance. Upon hearing of our mistake, he shouted to his partner across the lot, "Schmidtty, we got an exit!" Almost immediately, a whole crew of parking attendants, while yelling at each other, rearranged the orange cones directing traffic, stopped oncoming cars, and motioned us through the lot's entrance. How accommodating!

Anyway, we ultimately found a cheaper lot not too much further from the park than the one we just exited. When we found the right spot, we parked, hopped out of the car, and found the warm beers and whiskey that had been sitting in the back of Maggie's vehicle for the last few days. As it turned out, that was the only thing we put in our stomachs all morning, as we skipped breakfast and never got the coffee that we all craved. Without anything in our bellies, it didn't take long before we were buzzed.

While sitting in the parking lot drinking, we watched other tailgaters play quaits, the same game that folks were playing at the wedding. We also entertained ourselves by watching Nate play with one of those wooden raquets with the little bouncy ball attached to it. After an hour or so, we decided to head inside the park. When we entered, we went straight to the concession stand, where we each got a beer. While sipping the cold beer (a welcome change to the warm ones we had been drinking earlier), we walked around the park in search of our seats. We finally found them in the upper deck between third base and the left field foul pole. Our neighbors, in the seats behind us, were a family headed by on of the most vocal fans I've seen. The dude had something to say for every player who came to bat, whether it was cheering for one of the Phillies, or harassing one of the Padres (their opponent). The dude even yelled and cheered when the beer guys came to our section of seats. Seriously, the guy did not stop yelling...it was awesome. He even had his little daughter yelling.

While watching the game, I decided to take a picture of the park on my phone and send it to a buddy back in Portland (Bobby, who is a Phillies fan and from Pennsylvania). When he got the picture text, he quickly called back to inform me that his family was at the game. He told us what section they were in and said we should go say hello. In between innings, the crew migrated to where Bobby's family was sitting. We found seats right next to them and introduced ourselves. Maggie and I had already met Bobby's sister when she visited Portland some months earlier, and since Bobby's dad looked just like Bobby with grey hair, it seemed like we already knew him as well. While sitting next to Bobby's dad, he began telling me stories of his growing up in Philly. He also spoke about the neighborhood where Bobby's mom grew up, in South Philly, just across from the parking lot of the stadium. After chatting with them for a while, doing our best not to slur our words and hide our drunken states, we got bumped from the seats by late-arriving fans.

The four of us finished out the game and then headed back to Maggie's house, where we were going to eat dinner with her family before making our way up to New England. On the way back to the house, we picked up some cheesesteaks, as it was my last chance to indulge in the tasty treat in its birthplace. After eating dinner, we packed up the car and headed north. We drove through New York (passing by White Plains), Connecticut (New Haven and Hartford) and Rhode Island. In Rhode Island, Nate and I, while the girls were asleep, decided to take a little detour and drive through downtown Providence. From Providence, we were only half an hour from Attleboro, where we stayed with Jen, Maggie's friend from college.

We made it to Jen's house after 2:00 in the morning. Although late, we stayed up a bit to chat and talk about what our plans were for the next day. It wasn't long, though, before got tired and had to hit the sack. I went to bed first, claiming the room on the second floor, where I fell asleep to the sound of the loudest fan ever (I couldn't turn it off, because the humidity would have been equally as annoying).