Well, we made it to Boston. And tried to check into our hotel. They tried to give my dad & I a room with a bunkbed. Really? Are my dad and I 12 year old boys? But since this is a trap for my dad I refuse to fight him over the top bunk. (Inheritance here I come!) I'm not even going to acknowledge that hotel in this post. Needless to say we moved hotels over to the Onyx. Then we went and ate pizza at Regina Pizzeria. We got Gates'd over there. "How many?" Two. "Sit over there!" Damn. That attitude seems to have been there as long as the pizza, 1926.
The town seems to be pissed about Brady. Guess he's not pitching for the Red Sox? Something like that. "Free Taaaamh!"
Went to the game Thursday night at Fenway. My dad called it 'cozy'. And by that he meant small wooden seats that were built for Americans in the 1920's. Not for our high fructose corn syrup Americans. But he was excited to see Fenway. He claims that and Wrigley are his favorites. And by that he meant oldest.
We had half of Southie trying to squeeze into the seats behind us. That's about the time I assumed I would end up buying beers for the entire row after my pops tells them where they can go. Luckily they spent most of the night in line for beer or Shazam'ing Kenny Loggins Danger Zone. They were even nice enough to try and take a picture of us.