St. Patty's Day '11: Boston

So, it started with an idea. It ended with a vacation to remember. To sum it up simply won’t give it justice, however, neither will it had I written a book. When my friend Matt asked me if I wanted to go to Boston for St. Patrick’s Day, my first response: HELL YES! Did I think it was actually going to go down? No. When my friends and I get together great ideas are never in short supply, however, the ratio of So, it started with an idea. It ended with a vacation to remember. To sum it up simply won’t give it justice, however, neither will it had I written a book. When my friend Matt asked me if I wanted to go to Boston for St. Patrick’s Day, my first response: HELL YES! Did I think it was actually going to go down? No. When my friends and I get together great ideas are never in short supply, however, the ratio of good ideas turned into action is not one I would want to look at, let alone calculate. Still, something was different about this idea, I suppose it was destiny. Maybe we’re growing up and, in a way, pursuing adventure before settlement. Or maybe we’re just mature enough to actually, plan, save for, and implement a proper vacation? Either way, this happened and I am going to attempt to sum it up in a “Rules of Attraction” sort of way.

First off, I had a ballin’ day behind my bar one Saturday. Thirteen hours of work turned in to rent plus airfare. Bam! I bought the ticket that night. Then I waited...for about a month. The week of green came. We met in the morning. My roommate drove us to the airport. I had an irish coffee, a double. Matt didn’t like his. He had a beer. We went to our gate, had another beer and a preliminary shot. The plane went up. Our flight attendant complimented me on my drink choice. Whiskey and ginger, more specifically Jack and ginger (only because they didn’t have crown), either way he gave us a bag full of mini bottles. We tipped him $10 and he said next time he’d give us Xanax. Touch down. We checked into the hotel room. Found the Subway and wondered around in awe.

We found ourselves walking up a narrow staircase and finding a bar called Kennedy’s.  We met the bartender, Dez, and got something to eat. I had BBQ steak tips that were delicious. Then we walked. We found the “Russian District.” You won’t get the reference, we made it up. Soon we were sitting in a split-level bar called the “Red Hat Cafe.” We found out that they wouldn’t be charging a cover for St. Patty’s Day, duly noted. We decided to go back to the hotel room to wait on H.K.B. since he was taking a later flight. On the way back, we found a hole-in-the-wall bar. We got cider for some reason. Matt said he was going to get that round. They didn’t take cards, cash only. I bought the round. We started back to the hotel room, again, and, again, got side-tracked, but for good reason. Liquor store! I bought some crown. Matt got Tanqueray. We finally made it to the room. I sharpie-ed my arm with directions to the Hotel room in case I got ‘lost’. Ha. 69 Boston Street, that’s a made up address. Yet, another reference that not even Google knows. We made some cocktails and took naps. We awoke to meet Brad. We made another round of drinks. Cheers! We set off and ended up at Beantown Cafe. I had a steak tip sandwich this time. Great! It was like a philly on crack. We had an Irish Red beer from Sam Adam’s called “Brick Red” that is sold exclusively on the Freedom Trail. I bought a round of Shamrock Shakes. Yum. Cheers! Trying to find Faneuil Hall we end up at F.E.L.T. which was a french connection jazz bar. However, there seemed to be a large percentage of Latin culture hanging out there. I chose my beer strictly because the tap handle was a mermaid. The Dj was playing Shakira’s “Loca” and pulled off a good mix between a couple songs. He didn’t take his time, but he didn’t cut either. The bartenders were extremely hot all around and Matt wouldn’t stop talking about “the Coat Check Girl.” He was also mad at the guy who checked his coat when he was hitting on her.  We finally found Faneuil Hall but all the bar’s were closed, at 1 am?? Huh. We decided to get some rest because the next day was going to be a rough one. Fact worth noting: we maintained a buzz from 9am until 2am that day without sobering up or getting drunk.

Game day. I poured rum in my coffee, yum. We went to the Green Dragon which, as I was told, is the oldest bar in country and something about the signing of the declaration. Yadda-yadda. If I wanted a history lesson...Matt bought a round of Boston Lager, first beer on St. Patty’s Day. Cheers! There was an Irish band playing and they sounded great. What a way to set mood and pace. Brad started talking about some brewery and Matt’s Irish lead us there. Matt was leader that day.

The Boston Beer Works. Find yourself there and you should find yourself with a Blueberry Brew and the Shepherd's Pie Pizza, or you fail. We think the bartender, David may had a crush on Matt. Either way, he was awesome and I like to think that he was tipped accordingly. We set off to the next stop, The Point. Awesome bar. I had my first green beer. Really, first. We took Jager Bombs after a picture with them and a powerbar. We met a group of people and Matt lead them across town. We stopped to see some Break-dancers who totally over-sold their finale. We made it to the Red Hat. The group that Matt lead left because some bitchy girl was complaining about food. The girls working for 3 Olives, giving away shots, were too rude for there level of hot. Tsk, Tsk. The bartender was wearing a shirt that read: “You’re not lucky enough.” She had on booty shorts and had had her hair in pigtails, and, though older, had an allure of experienced hotness. We met two guys, Joe, who kept taking “American Car Bombs,” (later I found out the proper name: boilermakers.) and Charles. They were some kind of consultants, I got their business cards and they offered to help me run for president. What?? They bought around of beers, we bought a round of shots. Yes, we introduced Boston to Shamrock Shakes, yet again. Brad was a pitcher ninja and I attribute this to the following blurry-ness. I remember a little of talking to the door guy. I also found myself talking to random people outside. Some dude, named Paul, told me that saying “No-homo” was the most homophobic thing a straight guy could say. Suddenly, I was at Kennedy’s and the bartender was throwing ice cubes at me saying things like “wake up! This is a Bar, not a bedroom.” I nodded in understanding and proceeded to sip my water. Matt asked me if I wanted a beer, three different times. I shook my head...each time. Matt also bought T-shirts, and the ‘cool’ bartender, Dez, signed them. At some point the other bartender told Matt and Brad that he’s “a bartender, not a babysetter.” Before they got mad, I explained that he was being a proper bartender. We left. Dinner time at Burger King. Matt got real pissed of at some girl from Chicago that was boasting about how they have a better St. Patty’s day. Matt’s response: “Then why the hell are you here?!” She didn’t have a response and just stuck to her original statement. Matt got mad that she couldn’t back it up. I vaguely remember the subway ride to the hotel. That was a rough night. Heartburn (thanks Burger King) plus nausea is a horrible, horrible thing.

My drink tally:
- 10 beers (+\- because of brad the pitcher ninja)
- 2 Crown/Gingers
- 3 Shamrock Shakes
- 1 Shot of Whisky
- 1 Shot of Three Olives ‘something-or-other’
- 1 Shot of Sailor Jerry's
- 1 Jager Bomb
- Plus a few drinks I’m sure I forgot about.

Next day: Brad’s leadership. We woke up to find that Matt’s phone became two phones. Oh technology. I showed Brad the “Foursquare” app, which, other than to rub a vacation in Facebook’s FACE and to remember everywhere you went for that vacation, the app is a little ridiculous and encourages stalker-like behavior. We went downtown and found ourselves at Vapiano which was a new-style of Cafe’, where there were no servers. You walked form station to station ordering food and swiping a card, that you would then use to bring up your bill at the end. The salad chef was extremely talkative and friendly. The front desk/hostess girl was very attractive in a ‘plain-jane’ kind of way. Next stop Harvard Square. We went to John Harvard’s Brew House that had this underground, pub style to it that was just awesome. Brad checked-in, I did as well, and Matt decided he was replacing his newly-broken phone with a smart phone. The imperial Oatmeal Stout was amazing. We tried to take a tour at the Sam Adam’s Brewery but it was sold-out. We got free key-chain bottle-openers though.

Later that night we went to the “Union Oyster House” that IS the oldest restaurant in the United States. This is where I had my first lobster. Kind of intimidating. Someone told me it’s like the Steak of the Sea and could they not have been more right. We wondered back to The Point because it was that awesome of a bar. Now, there aren't too many dimes in Boston. However, the bartender that night was absolutely gorgeous. Matt hit on three different girls at the same time. We spent too much money there. We went back to the hotel and acted like rock-stars, even got a noise complaint. I remember diving over the bed when there was a knock at the door. I slept well that night even though it was my night on the roll-away.

The next morning was spent looking for my credit card, which was left at the point. Funny thing, I paid my bill, left a tip, signed the receipt, flirted sloppily with the hot bartender and left my card on the bar the night before. Heh. We walked across Boston trying to find the Cheers bar. We found it. We also realized that while walking to the Cheers bar, we actually walked away from it, but to another Cheer Bar. Yeah, you read that correctly. It was refreshing to be able to get a burger cooked Mid-rare for a change. Anyway, we made it to the airport and visited the Boston Brew Factory there, as well. The bartender, Joseph, was awesome. “Sarcasm isn’t part of my character.” Ha. Right. Matt swore he saw the “only ten in Boston.” He claimed she went into the bathroom but...she never came out. Throughout the time she was in there we discussed how creepy it was that we were watching girls coming out of the bathroom, how, since we were in the airport, she may have actually not been from Boston, and how she’s been in there so long that she had either died or Matt made it up. At the last minute, just before boarding, Matt was proved right.

We hit flight numbero uno to New York to catch our connecting flight. We had just enough time to grab a bite. Matt and I chose this sushi place in the middle of the airport. We shook off the fact that it was a Sushi Bar in an airport due to the level of swank that it had. Circular bars, jazzy drum and bass, and even that serene, scenic hot-blonde that was so untouchable that I couldn’t even make eye contact for more that a one-count even though her blue eyes matched the backdrop of the restaurant and were pulling my gaze with the intensity of a lioness stalking her prey through the shelter of a desert tundra. I wished I was her prey. Brad didn’t eat there; He disappeared suddenly and showed up mid-meal with nothing more than a bottle of root beer that we thought was a beer that he was just casually carried around the airport. H.K.B. is chill enough to pull that one off. YOU don’t know. We finally got aboard the final flight home: Flight 2. Brad had ice cream, bastard, I wanted ice cream. The hot-blonde was on our flight home. Go Charlotte. After most vacations it feels nice to be home, I was just happy to sleep. Whew. That’s how you vaca. The end.

Greensboro

Hey guys, Matt here. This is a trip that I did on my own and got into by doing what I do best, taking advantage of a situation and following my instincts. It’s a short trip, but a fun one nonetheless. I worked at a historic hotel in uptown Charlotte for a while and this hotel had an old, authentic London cab that drove guests all over town. I was lucky enough to drive this cab and loved it. This awkward PT cruiser looking thing that was a diesel and had the turning radius of a Cocker Spaniel was one of the greatest cars I have ever had the privilege of driving. The problem was that this vehicle liked to break down, a lot, and since it was authentic no one in Charlotte knew how to fix this thing. After a while, my managers found a guy who knew all there was about London cabs. The downside for them was that this mechanic was in Greensboro. Their solution was to tow the cab up to this guy and send me up to get it when it was fixed. This is the first time I actually got paid to travel which, in my mind, was ultimate awesomeness.

The day came where they needed me to go up and they were sending me by train. As stoked as I was, I’m known for not planning ahead very far and I arrived at the train station three minutes too late. Not to be discouraged, I called up and changed my ticket from nine in the morning to three in the afternoon. That gave me six hours to drive my car up to Greensboro, find the shop, pay the people and drive the taxi back before my train left again. I got up there in a little over two hours knowing that the taxi couldn’t go over 65 so the way back would be a little longer. The problem was that I couldn’t park my car anywhere and leave it for a couple of hours. This lady who worked for Amtrak was very helpful and actually got me a day pass in the lot for free. I called up the shop and they came and picked me up. Fast forward, I pick up the taxi and drive it back getting to the hotel with 20 minutes to spare. One of the bellman at the hotel, Mr. Turner, took me back to the train station and I got on the train just before it left. How about that for timing huh?

Having never been on a train before, I didn’t realize how AWESOME they are. It’s just like driving except there is no traffic and kind of like flying except the seats have more space and are way more comfortable. It takes a little longer than driving, but who cares if you are along for the ride and not on a schedule. If you’re in such a hurry, spend the money and fly but if you want to travel for pleasure or you are on a budget, train is the way to go.

Now before I get started, I have to let you guys know something; if you are not from North Carolina, you have probably never heard of Greensboro. If you are from North Carolina but have never been to Greensboro, you probably think of the city as kind of a crummy place. I know I did and let me tell you something, I was wrong. Greensboro was great to me. Uptown is super clean with restaurants all over the place that would make Diners, Drive-ins and Dives thank their lucky stars. All of the restaurants at first glance are the kind of places that are unique and original. There is a local brewery up there called Natty Greene’s which makes a whole bunch of great beers and has done well enough to actually have a satellite location in Raleigh. The same place Myke and I went on the Raleigh journey.

So I get to Greensboro knowing that I do not have to be anywhere for the rest of the  day. I started by  walking down the main strip of Greensboro, meet some cool people and they point me in the direction of this spot a little ways away, near a park. I walk there and it looks really fancy,  not what I was feeling at the moment. So I decided to turn and head down another street parallel to the main street. I then come across this place that makes me go, “Oh this is what I was looking for.”

This pub was situated on the corner and had a look that screamed locals only. Not to mention the name of it was ‘Stumble Stilskins’. (Yes, that is spelled right.)  I couldn’t help myself. Upon walking in, I get the feeling that this would be one of the greatest bars to watch sports. It featured multiple rooms, a couple of bars and not to mention two stories; the layout of this place is great. I grab a seat, spy the bartender and a sign directly behind her. ‘$2 Killian’s Irish Red.’  My jaw drops when I see this. “Is that true?” I ask the bartender in astonishment. She replied, a little bitchy, “Yeah, it’s like an everyday special.” I tried to explain that I wasn’t from around Greensboro, and that I had  just walked in. Not mentioning that two dollars for a Killian’s is unheard of anywhere else I have ever been. She actually walked away in the middle of me trying to explain. Not to be detoured, I started talking to some of the locals about the food here and was sold on the Italian chicken sandwich. Let me tell you, grilled chicken with prosciutto and Italian dressing is heaven. Stumble Stilskins was a great place to eat and the locals in the bar were very talkative, but the beer specials is what made it for me. I do wish that the bartender was someone different and a little friendlier, but at the same time, she might have been having a bad day.

After the meal, I got in my car and drove home. Greensboro had changed my mind about the small town and I can not wait to go back to sample more of the local flavor and entertainment.

About

This is us. This is what we do. Matt (on the left) has a brilliant knack for finding the best places to go, especially those that out-of-towners don't find often and he can talk to anyone, and I mean hold a conversation with any random stranger. Brad (center), or Hong Kong Brad as we like to refer to him is our variable. Down for whatever, where-ever, whenever. What you you have left is me. I'm the writer. I put words to these experiences. I will help you visualize awesomeness as we get to live it. After our Boston trip we decided to tour the US for the best St. Patrick's Day experience and end in Dublin, of course, because you can not top Dublin, duh.

Matt decided that this is something he'd be about after "St. Patty's Day '12: Savannah." (page soon to come) He was dreaming about a TV show where all he did was walk around and find random. This blog became an idea when we recently went to Raleigh to pick up a car, unfortunately sans HKB. That ended with me waking up in a parking garage the next morning saying 'what the fuck?' We went to IHOP to eat breakfast and piece together the night before. Then, it dawned on me: Why not make a blog about our adventures because, A) everyone has a blog now, and B) we don't have to plan an extravagant vacation where we spend exuberant amounts of money to do this. We can take a day or two off every so often and entertain you with our randomness. So, here you are.