I was doing really well on this trip, huh? I mean, live a day, write about it the next morning. Then the Red Sox happened and I got kind of distracted. I could go into depth about how we spent our last bit of time in Boston, but most of it would involve me gushing endlessly about Fenway Park.
My dad and I went to the game Saturday night, which the Red Sox won thankfully. Before the game we spent most of our day just walking around the area where the park is and drinking. We started with a walking tour of Fenway, which included field access, so I actually got to stand on the same warning track that Ted Williams used to field fly balls on. After the tour we had lunch and beers, then there was more beer, then some walking around, then some waiting, then the game. It was amazing, it was religious, it was one of the greatest days of my life.
The following day, Agnes and I got up and decided to go back down to Fenway (the game was at 1:15) and try to find tickets. She'd never been to a professional sporting event (except the Nashville Sounds minor league games) and she expressed a genuine interest in seeing Fenway Park. I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that she knew we could afford it and that I wouldn't have a lot of chances to do this, so kudos to her. That's major brownie points right there. We got down there, found a guy selling tickets for the first row bleachers, dead center field. He wanted $150 for two, which was about $30 more than I wanted to pay. So I put on a fake Boston accent (it's impressive, you should hear it) and convinced him I was too local to try and pull one over on. We got the tickets for $120 and it was money very well spent. The Sox lost that game (damn you Okajima!) but it was still amazing and religious. Agnes even bought a hat. Okay, she was mostly trying to keep the sun out of her eyes, but by the end of the game she was totally invested.
That night we had a very poor Italian meal at a Zagat rated establishment (I no longer trust the Zagat rating) that isn't worth discussing. Then the funk set in, I woke up with a chest cold, and we came home.
I could go further into depth about all of this stuff, but I'll let the pictures tell the stories.
Thanks for coming along with us on this Surfing the Bleed vacation. I promise I'll get back to talking about comics this week.
GB Williams out.