I sense that madness is preparing to move through this city in a wave.
Update:
My apartment is still standing, there are no drunk people on my floor, and I don't think anyone was stabbed, immolated, or shot through the eye with a pepperspray pellet. I guess the city can count the night a victory, then. Still though, I don't understand what makes the college population run screaming into Kenmore Square like a ravening horde whenever the Red Sox or the Patriots win a title. So I asked my classmates in Crisis Communications what the allure was.
"Because you're watching everyone on teevee, and hearing all of the car horns and the yelling and commotion outside, and you know something major's going on there, and you don't want to miss it," they said.
It? There is no it - unless you count the prospect of having your face rearranged by a three-foot billy club or a riot shield as it. And watching a couple of your drunk boyfriends shake a tree on Lansdowne Street isn't worth getting your bell rung by a nervous cop. Whatever you mistaken think it is, it's definitely not worth getting gased in the street, or subsequently trampled by your fellow Unwashed.
Of course, I'm just irked because eight of my roommate's friends piled into my living room at two-in-the-morning. They couldn't get to their car and had "already run from the gas three times; and it's cold." One of the girls complained that her eyes were stinging and her throat burned. What? You think those grenades release a nice cloud of menthol?
Anyhow, I didn't get to sleep until four, after watching Hook in its entirety while waiting for people to shut up and leave. I woke up this morning with a headache, too. Go Sox.
P.S. There should be an entire section in Driver's Ed. devoted specifically to proper use of your car's horn. That or they should just be removed from production vehicles.
Update:
My apartment is still standing, there are no drunk people on my floor, and I don't think anyone was stabbed, immolated, or shot through the eye with a pepperspray pellet. I guess the city can count the night a victory, then. Still though, I don't understand what makes the college population run screaming into Kenmore Square like a ravening horde whenever the Red Sox or the Patriots win a title. So I asked my classmates in Crisis Communications what the allure was.
"Because you're watching everyone on teevee, and hearing all of the car horns and the yelling and commotion outside, and you know something major's going on there, and you don't want to miss it," they said.
It? There is no it - unless you count the prospect of having your face rearranged by a three-foot billy club or a riot shield as it. And watching a couple of your drunk boyfriends shake a tree on Lansdowne Street isn't worth getting your bell rung by a nervous cop. Whatever you mistaken think it is, it's definitely not worth getting gased in the street, or subsequently trampled by your fellow Unwashed.
Of course, I'm just irked because eight of my roommate's friends piled into my living room at two-in-the-morning. They couldn't get to their car and had "already run from the gas three times; and it's cold." One of the girls complained that her eyes were stinging and her throat burned. What? You think those grenades release a nice cloud of menthol?
Anyhow, I didn't get to sleep until four, after watching Hook in its entirety while waiting for people to shut up and leave. I woke up this morning with a headache, too. Go Sox.
P.S. There should be an entire section in Driver's Ed. devoted specifically to proper use of your car's horn. That or they should just be removed from production vehicles.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
null:
No need for apprentices. Sorry. Really, though, I'm not much good for learning anything except how to invent new swears as the need arises, pass for sober no matter what, and create mind-numbingly durable catch phrases.
velocity:
If I were you, I'd go hide out somewhere. I have a fold out sofa you're welcome to.