Baseball. The Red Sox. So, as many have you have read already after the momentous occasion of last night, Da5id Taus and I rode down to Kenmore Square in Boston at midnight + some.
I am not one for rioting or even participating all that much, but this was a no brainer. Let’s see, in my lifetime we have had a passing of Halley’s Comet, George Clinton was within 17 miles of my parents house, and the Red Sox won the WORLD FREAKING SERIES.
Viewing this event I would parallel this along the same line as the First coming of Christ. It is like the divine coming to deliver the chosen from an anguished state.
Da5id and I discussed the ramifications of this event in terms of the world immediately around us: the people and place of Boston. (and by discuss, I mean yell nuggets of observations at each other while biking through the warren that is the pavement of the Boston Metro area.)
There were two things that struck me during the midnight assault on Kenmore: one literally,the other aurally.
Getting high-fives when you are biking is one of the most satisfying things I have participated in. Complete strangers would lean out precariously over bridge railings or out of cars, just to high five either Da5id or I or anyone else that was available.
The other impact was on my ears. There was honking and honking and more honking. There was one cab driver in Central Square that was pulled over into the cab wait-lane and was just laying on his horn for the hell of it.
For any of you who have lived or even visited Boston, you are familiar with the environment that the car horn thrives in. It is like rust in a deep closed cut growing tetanus in your body. The car horn is used liberally and viciously in Boston continuously. I know that it is in some way because the streets are a hell to travel, no one can deny that. There may be more to it: the generally unpleasant winters, the Puritanical way of life that is promoted and condoned in a metropolis, and of course the barage of Dunkin’ Donuts garbage that swirls at you no matter where you walk.
Anyway, the car horn was utilized in yet another way last night. Joy. Utter indescribable joy.
This cursed city, if only for a while, maybe only that one night, has changed.
For me the grating, piercing, invasive, abrupt, obnoxious sound of the car horn has changed.
Mindfullness,
Peet