Item #28 - Visit Puerto Rico

"Hola, Jerry! I'm into this Puerto Rican day! The sights! The sounds! The hot, spicy flavor of it all! It's caliente, Jerry!"   -Kramer
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I took AP Spanish my senior year of high school. It was taught by Mrs B (anonymity protected), who also happened to be our religion teacher.

Since my high school was an all-boys school, and since we didn't have to hold back in front of girls, we acted even more immature while at school than the average teenage boys would. That also meant we were basically an 800-person strong "old boys club", passing down rumors and myths from class to class. Every class had a story on why the typing teacher, Mr Bacon,was apparently kicked out of the brotherhood (the male version of nuns that taught 20% of our classes). Our class' myth? He got caught having sex with Mrs B . . . . I can neither confirm nor deny this rumor.

On the very first day, we were given a non-graded assignment. Get up in front of the class, and in Spanish, give an impromptu 1 minute summary on what you did over the summer. Fairly simple, and since the entire class was now entering its 4th year of Spanish, it was fairly easy. But being the boys club that we were, we decided to have a fun with it.

I got to go with the first half of the class - the kids who went on day #1. I forget what the entire 60 seconds entailed, though I'm sure it was something along the lines of "Jugaba al fútbol. He trabajado en un cine." (I played soccer. I worked at a movie theater). I decided to finish though with the always hilarious mom joke. "Fui a la casa de Micah para ver su madre." (I went to Micah's house to see his mom). Technically, nothing dirty to Mrs B. I mean, I'm just a friendly kid who wanted to see how Micah;s mom was doing. SEE her.  But the point got across to the class. 

The next day, the rest of the class gave their speeches. Micah, the resident class clown, had a day to figure out how to not be out done. Again, I'm not sure how his whole speech went, but I know it finished like this: 

Micah:  Fui a la casa de Al para hacer su madre (I went to Al's house to do his mom). 
Note - the previous phrase was uttered while Micah did the following:

Mrs B:  Micah! Get out!

Micah: What? I thought "hacer" meant "to see" 

This story maybe one of those "funnier if you were there" stories, but I still think someone doing pelvic thrusts while talking in Spanish about doing his friend's mom in front of the religion teacher is still amusing regardless. 

15 years later, Micah and I would reunite to try and use our Spanish knowledge for good. Our friend Bryan had been working down in San Juan, Puerto Rico, for the last year and a half, and I had been wanting to get down there at some point. Last year, I talked about it, and did nothing about it. This year, it was time to actually show some initiative. So after 5 or so months of half-assed planning, I met Micah and his girlfriend Sarah down in San Juan for a 3 day weekend, crashing at Bryan's.  

There's no great narrative to the San Juan trip, so we roll with lazy bullet points instead:

• This is the best picture of the beach I have. Notice something? . . . An utter lack of sun. 80% of our non-excursion time, it was raining. And watching Hulu in San Juan is really not that more exotic than watching Hulu in Boston (though both Community and Parks and Rec were fantastic last week. Seriously people. Get on board).

• Speaking of percentages, 98% of all Puerto Rican girls at the bar wear heels. And 96% of those girls were good looking. Multiply those numbers together, and you get a very high number of good looking girls in high heels . . .  all of which I'm just going to stare at while holding a drink instead of actually having what the Puerto Ricans call "cojones." If only I knew a pick-up line in Spanish besides asking them where the library was.
• In Barcelona, it definitely helped to know some Spanish, though you could probably get away without knowing any at all. In San Juan? Yeah, you didn't need any. It really was like Spain and the US had some sexy time and made a baby.
• Bryan picked me up from the airport. As we were getting off the highway on the way to his place, I wondered aloud about the cuisine down there . . . . and then we immediately drove past a Starbucks, Subway, Burger King and Uno's Pizza. Even my weak palette was disappointed by those sights. But we did make it to some delicious hole-in-the-wall Mexican food and tequila the last night. Viva!
• Fun fact for the day - more Puerto Ricans live off the island (typically in the states) than do on the island.  Mind? . . . blown.
• The weekend also consisted of 2 events worthy of their own itemization, as I would have counted them no matter where I was. They'll get their own posts. Puerto Ricans spiders, and Puerto Rican cocks. Yeah, you're intrigued. 

Item #27 - Take a Duck Tour

"Quack"  -Everybody on a duck tour, forced at gunpoint by the tour guide
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Last week my sister was in town. It was only the second time she had been here in my nearly 8 years of living in Boston. The first time, she was a fake-ID-less 20 years old. And she had come here with my mom. And they came in the middle of February. And she had mono. So basically, this time I could have taken her to a T.G.I.Friday's and she would have probably had a better time and been more impressed with what the city had to offer. But being to good big brother I am, I gave her the proper Boston exeperince, which included Marathon Monday festivities and a sophisticated wine tasting. And on Sunday, it included a Duck Tour.

For the sheltered, the Duck Tour is a tour bus that's also a boat. About an hour driving around Boston, and another 30 minutes in the Charles River. It's Boston Tourism 101, like the Statue of Liberty is to New York.  But just like Lady Liberty, the majority of locals here have never actually done it. Add in the fact that I HATE looking like a tourist, and I most certainly hadn't done one yet.

If hell exists, and God sends me there because of that hobo I killed back in '02, there will be an hour of every day set aside where I have to recreate the experience of being a tour guide for my mother through Faneuil Hall and Quincy Market on 4th of July weekend, which happened last year . . . . my god . . . the horror.

So I sucked it up and took little sis for a car-boat ride through Boston. And ya know what, I learned a thing or two about my fair city, and now, I think I'll share the historical stories of that day with all of you*.  So let's learn a thing or two about Boston, which for your information, is also known as Beantown, The Hub, America's Walking City, The City that New Kids Built, and The Birthplace of Jorts.

Off we go on a magical tour!

Here's our tour guide The Joker.

According to his bio:  "Undoubtedly the biggest card at Boston Duck Tours, the Joker is on deck to show you a one of a kind tour of Boston. Straight from the gambling tables of Las Vegas, he felt he should take a gamble and shuffled off to Beantown. Do you wear a suit to work? Don’t feel bad. The joker wears all 4! Truly a diamond in the rough, when you join The Jokers’ club, he will be in your hearts forever. Growing up with a pack of 52 others was not easy. The Jokers’ life was a flop, but he turned it around and here he is giving tours on the Charles River". . . . Yup, 90 minutes of high comedy (I hate to admit it, but he was amusing).

This is the Hancock Tower, named for one of original signers of the Declaration of Independence, Herbie Hancock.

It was built in 1976 to commemorate our country's bicentennial. Due to the fact that architects in 1976 didn't have computers, they fucked up their wind calculations, resulting in thousands of mirrored windows popping out and falling to the ground like the gargoyles at 55 Central Park West during the reign of Zuul in New York City. One hundred and twenty people ended up dead due to the falling windows. This is what is now known as the Boston Massacre. The Hancock Tower now has 1 black stripe of windows near the top of the building to commemorate those that died.

This is the Granary Burial Ground.

It sits directly across the street from the Beantown Pub, and happens to house the tomb of Sam Adams, making it the only place where you can drink a Sam Adams directly across from Sam Adams. Other famous people buried at this particular cemetery include Ben Franklin's parents, Mary Goose (AKA, Mother Goose), John Hancock, Paul Revere, Red Auerbach, Ernie "Coach" Pantusso, Steven Tyler, and Banksy.

Seen in the background below is the relatively new Zakim Bridge. It was built as part of the Big Dig in Boston, a massive civil project that took 72 years and $4 trillion dollars to complete.

Boston is now 100% free of traffic since it was completed 5 years ago, and every time you drive over the bridge going south, leaving Charlestown and entering Boston, you stop at a toll booth where they now give YOU $1.25 for crossing the bridge. The homeless have been known to rent Zip Cars and cross the bridge hundreds of times in a day as way to make some quick cash. Mayor Menino is working on closing that loophole.

This is Bunker Hill Community College. Good Will Hunting was filmed there. The room where they filmed the scenes inside Robin Williams' office now houses a statue of Matt Damon and Ben Affleck having hot man on man action on the couch. You can push a button at the bottom of the statue and here famous lines from the movie, however, Ben Affleck's accent is still terrible.

The tall building all the way to the right is the Prudential Tower. It's the 2nd tallest building in Boston behind the Hancock Tower.

The building to the left of the Hancock is the Berkeley Building, AKA, the old Hancock Building. The steeple at its top actual acts as a weatherman for the city. When its steady blue, you can expect a clear day tomorrow, and when its flashing blue, it will be cloudy. Red means rain is coming and flashing red means snow. White means there's going to be a solar eclipse while orange means a solar flare will most likely disrupt your cellular service.  Purple indicates rain, but it specifically calls for purple rain.  Flashing purple signifies a Prince concert. Green means a plague of locusts while flashing green means the locusts will be particularly surly. If the lights in the weather beacon resemble a lava lamp, it means Mt Wachusett is about to blow. And if the beacon is pink, it means hide yo kids, hide yo wife, because the end of days is upon us. 

The windows below can be seen just across from Boston Common, a few doors down from the Bull and Finch Pub (which was used for exterior shots of the bar from the show Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place). Note that the flowers are all planted in running shoes.

This is of course the home of Rosie Ruiz, who famously cheated in the 1980 Boston Marathon. She had her twin sister Juanita start the race and run the first 13 miles before faking an injury and dropping out. At mile 23, Rosie stumbled out of the crowd and ran the last 3 miles at 4:45 pace. Race officials became suspicious when they noticed the soul patch on Rosie's face, which has long been known to belong the the more evil of 2 twins.

Speaking of running, here's a picture of some random dude running along the Charles River Esplanade.

The Charles was created in 1755 after the Erie Canal was built, which diverted half the Great Lakes water to the Saint Lawrence Seaway and the other half down the Charles to Boston Harbor. During the Revolutionary War, the British sent their submarines up the river to deliver supplies to their troops, aiding them in their victory in the Battle of Eastborough  (to disassociate themselves with this blemish, the people of Eastborough eventually renamed the town to Wooster). Since the American troops were still developing sonar, they had to resort to MacGyver-like tactics to stop the submarines. So, they gathered every teabag in the county and dumped them into the Charles River. The tea bags eventually got lodged in the propellers of the submarines. The submarines subsequently sank, but their remains have helped form gorgeous coral reefs up and down the river. Sadly, they're not visible, as the vast amount of tea bags dumped during this Boston Tea Party have caused the Charles to be permanently colored brown. The familiar color of the Charles River led to Francis Scott Key to write the song "Dirty Water", which is now played after every Red Sox win.

Yeah, so that was fun. No really, the tour was pretty fun, and for $32, not all that pricey. Definitely recommend it for all your tourist types. And it actually gave me a new found appreciation for living in such a fucking awesome city. The history. The bars. The architecture. The natural beauty. Yup, me and Boston renewed our vows that weekend. Stories of the post-vows 2nd honeymoon? . . . . NSFW.

*To paraphrase Senator Jon Kyl, facts about Boston and Boston's history not intended to be factual statements**

**Political humor! I'm so enlightened and sophisticated!

Item #26 - Go Wine Tasting

"Its the fucking Catalina wine mixer"  -Various
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A random collection of highlights and lowlights to my drinking life that I'm willing to share (every reader on here has probably been involved in at least one, so what the hell, you probably know these stories anyway).

Highlight - Spring Break 1997
I didn't start drinking until spring break of senior year of high school. Partly due to the fear of my mother's wrath (seen Item #17). Partly due to my vast maturity.

Example of maturity being shown on our spring break cruise by me, our school's National Honor Society President

The very first drink I had was some vodka my friend Matt smuggled on board the plane down to New Orleans for our cruise (note: much easier to smuggle liquids on board planes in 1997). We ordered some orange juice and mixed it in. Never having had alcohol before, and not knowing what amount equates to being drunk, I half expect the 1 shot nip to turn me into Helen Hunt on PCP (jump to 1:55. It's delightful). It doesn't.  14 years later and vodka is still my hard liquor of choice, as my "liquor cabinet" consist of 4 varieties of vodka and a half empty bottle of Wild Turkey (it was on special and it came with a free flask. Don't judge me, jerk). 

Lowlight - Spring Break 1997
I went on a spring break cruise with a bunch of guys while my girlfriend at the time Erin headed elsewhere with her gal friends. During the trip, thanks largely to alcohol, I end up cheating on Erin  . . . multiple times . . . with two different girls. It would be the only time(s) I cheat on a girlfriend in my life. I feel bad about it . . . until I learn that she cheated on me too. We laugh, break up amicably, and all is well. 

Ironically, a few years later in college, we would be dating different people and almost ended up drunkenly cheating on our significants at the time with each other. We were this close. THIS close (holding up my pointer finger 2 millimeters from my thumb) . . . but I held back. The lesson had been learned . . . though when I broke up with that girlfriend, I would regret NOT having gone through with the cheating with Erin. New lesson - drink MORE next time?

Highlight - Ann Arbor 1997

My dad comes to Ann Arbor for a Michigan game with his buddy and learns that I drink at college. Not exactly a surprise, but he's perfectly cool with it. We are adult equals.

Lowlight -  Ann Arbor 1997

A bunch of friends and I attend an "around the world" party at a frat that some of our old high school friends are joining. We have no plans to join, but as freshmen, frat parties were always an easy way to get beer. We all get loaded. When the cops eventually show up, my friend Drew almost throws the aforementioned Erin out the window as a means to escape. I leave before that, very inebriated. I head home to the dorm, and head to bed. It's a poor nights sleep as throughout the night, I constantly wake up, feeling sand in my bed.  That morning, I am awoken the sound the of a knock at our door. Walter answers. Its my dad and his buddy. They're earlier than expected, and he sees me laying in bed . . . next to what is apparently a pile of puke I concocted that night (note - dried puke feels like sand). I blame it on Dave, who slept above me in the bunk. Dad . . . doesn't buy it, and simply  says "Rest up. We'll come back."

Highlight - Windsor 1999

Summer of '99. I am 19. My friends are all 19. Canada lets you drink at 19. And having never had a fake ID, we head to Windsor all summer to hit the bars for the first time, over and over and over again. I learn the joy of the Canadian exchange rate (at the time), Molson's, Labatt's, and drinking straight out pitchers of long island iced tea. Classy times are had by all. Alcohol helps me in believing that making out with my English teacher's daughter on the dance floor is a good idea. It also greatly aids in a stoplight make-out session on the way home with one of my best gal friends.

Lowlight - Windsor 2000

I spend my 20th birthday at Woody's in Windsor. I spend the latter half of the night trying to contact my friends inside in the pre-cell phone era after having been kicked out of the bar. I've certainly been worse in bars, and I've certainly been dragged out by friends, but I believe this is the only time I've been asked to leave the bar by the bar itself. 

Highlight - Chicago 2002

A large group of us spend New Year's Eve at a hotel ballroom party sponsored by a radio station. It's an open bar, yet I proudly remain the most sober of any of my friends while still drinking, showing off my will power and ability to enjoy alcohol in moderation. Though this is largely due to . . .

Lowlight - Chicago 2001

A large group of us spend New Year's Eve at a hotel ballroom party sponsored by a radio station. It's an open bar, and wanting the make sure I earn back the $80 it cost to go to the party, I spend the night getting absolutely destroyed. I spend the latter part of the night puking in the bathroom and then puking in the cab ride home . . . at least that's what I'm told by my friends who put up with me. There were several black out nights in college, but they usually ended up with me saying "I don't exactly what happened, but god damn, it was fun." This is the first time I say "I don't exactly know what happened, but I am fucking embarrassed. God damn I need to drink less." I also learn that whenever theres a pay-one-price-for-open-bar event, be it at a bar or a wedding, I need to just stick to beer.

Hightlight - December 2004

A tradition is born. The high school friends decide to get together and play a round of Crazy 40 Hands over Christmas break. A 40 is duct taped to each hand, and they can't be removed until all 80 ounces are gone. It's a race against your bladder, and it's a game where everyone wins! . . . except for the people that take off the 40's early. They're HUGE losers. Anyway, we drank 80 ounces of duct taped malt liquor as 25 year old professionals, and it was fantastic. 

 Not me. Face blurred to protect the innocent working "professional" with an MBA

Lowlight - December 2010

Crazy 40 Hands #7! The tradition continues! Only this time it takes place without the 40's . . . and without the duct tape . . . .and without a mandatory minimum amount of beer to be drunk. Youth . . . . gone. Sigh.

Highlight - April 23, 2011

After being forced into maturity by a lack of 40's and duct taped hands during an annual event called Crazy 40 Hands Day, it's time to start occasionally drinking wine like a big boy. At this point, I can close my eyes and taste the difference between white and red wine. Yes, truly refined. So Saturday I headed to the Boston Wine Riot downtown along with my sister, Ryan, Joy and her friend Kate.  Its basically a 40 table expo, with each table having 2-8 different bottles to taste. It was open for 4 hours, and we got there right as it opened. I was a wine novice, and it was time to learn.

Early on, I did learn. I paid close attention to the presenter's schpeel. I learned what a malbec grape was. I learned why white wine is white. I tasted, or at least tried to taste, the subtle differences between the 6 month aged wine and the 12 month aged wine. I learned that my initial preference of white over red remained true.  My connoisseur-ism grew . . . but not by that much, as my beer taste buds remain vastly more refined than my wine taste buds. 

Midlight - April 23, 2011

After 2 hours, the tastings started to mount up, as the process of learning how to drink wine simply became a process of drinking. I went back to just being able to taste the difference between white and red.  At the 3 hour mark, we all decide its a good idea to get tattoos from the temporary tattoo booth. And of course, I went for the tramp stamp. Stay classy Boston.

Lowlight - April 23, 2011
We decided to stay the whole 4 hours. The next day my sister counted up all the checkbooks in the guide book. We tried 80 wines. Multiply that by the average 1 ounce pour (some were stingy, but by the end, it was an everything-must-go free-for-all), and we're talking about 12+ glasses of wine in 4 hours. My previous rule of only sticking to beer at open bars ended up being a little tough to pull off at a wine expo. Not surprisingly, we were all pretty tipsy as we left. Not stumble and puke tipsy, but rather, loud and obnoxious tipsy. So we decided to head over a few blocks to the theater district and hit a bar - The Tam. This is the outside sign at The Tam.

This is the first review off Google: "cheap drinks, surly funny staff, cheap drinks, easy atmosphere." The Tam is a dive bar by all means. And after a night of wine and sophistication, when I attempted to refine my palette for alcohol . . . . we were denied entry into The Tam for being too drunk. 

Double irony - though it won't be added to the list, being denied entry into a bar was yet another first this year

• 26 of 52 done, but just 5 months left. I'm slipping. It's time for the Summer of George Alan!