I had an overnight layover in Boston, so I went to Fenway Park to see the Red Sox play the Blue Jays. Everything you’ve heard about Boston sports fans is true. I wish I had brought my Lakers jersey, or at least been feeling crafty enough to construct a “Fuck Tom Brady” shirt or something. Seriously, one of the drunk girls I spoke to claimed that people had died as a result of Büttchen’s injury. Not, like, emotionally dead. As in, they died of a broken heart. Yep, everything you’ve heard about Boston sports fans is true.

The game was actually really exciting, with the Red Sox coming back to win it in the 8th, prompting a “Sweet Caroline” sing-along that you have to experience to believe/appreciate. The Fenway Park area is pretty cool, too, with a lively bar scene surrounding the stadium on all 4 sides. I had some really good duck tacos and a margarita before watching the scene outside Jake Ivory’s, a piano bar that’s one giant asinine Boston stereotype. Two gawd-awful singing piano players butchering your favorite tunes with the crowd eating it up. It was amusing, but I miss Knyght Ryder.

I couldn’t get a hotel room, so I crashed in the lobby of a Howard Johnson’s before the guy at the front desk told me I couldn’t do that anymore. I went to the airport at 3 am via an unmetered cab ride (wasn’t in the mood for asking questions) so I could try to get an earlier flight back home. Success! 6 am to Minneapolis, then Santa Ana, and now, mega-huge naptime.

“But it was worth the night/I caught an early flight and I made it home.”