Some quality time with Boston

This beautiful morning I left early with my friend/roommate Dan and took the train with him to Mass Ave. He went to work (chump) and I strolled around Back Bay, enjoying the gorgeous weather, enjoying Boston. I hiked all the way up Comm Ave to the Public Garden. There are so many amazing buildings on Comm Ave. I was interested by both the number of the gorgeous row houses that are single-families ("whoa, that's a single-family??") and by those with a zillion units ("whoa, that slim little building has eight buzzers??").

The Public Garden is still under piles of gently melting snow, oozing into muddy streams that run along the walkways. Perhaps not the best time of year for a visit, but the day was so clear and bright it was wonderful to stand in the middle of the garden and see Boston all around me. It's a lovely city.

I headed back on Boylston Street. Boylston is always interesting. That big, bland new building where the big, bland courtyard used to be in front of the Prue. The bizarre Apple store. The way the insane feng shui of Trinity Church mashed up against the Hancock Tower never fails to amaze (It's jarring! It's beautiful! It's jarring! It's beautiful!).

Near the Trader Joe's, I passed an old woman pushing a shopping cart full of stuff. She looked at me and screeched, "Souvenir of Boston?" pointing at a loose paving stone in the sidewalk.
"No thank you," I demurred.

Back on Mass Ave, as I was passing Berklee, a middle-aged gentleman in a coat and tie came up to me and began to semi-coherently explain something.
"Excuse me, can you help me with something? My car's parked over there, you see, and I've uh, I've gotta get a plug kit from the hardware store. You see my son and I'm trying to I'm not a beggar. I work for the Church. I just need, uh, my car, you see."
"Um," I replied, "I'm not entirely sure what you're asking of me."
"See, my car, see, I need thirty bucks--I'm not a beggar--and I'm trying to uh..." He waved around a wad of bills.
I pulled out my wallet, and turned it toward him so he could see its meagre contents. "Okay, as you can see, I only have a dollar on me. But you can have it." Feeling somewhat magnanimus, I plucked out the bill and offered it. He became very angry.
"A dollar?!?! What the--what am I supposed to do with a dollar? Go up to thirty people? A dollar? What the hell, man??"
"It's all the money I have. Do you want the dollar or not?"
"What the--no! No I do not want the dollar! What the hell? I need thirty!"
"Okay," I said, pocketing the bill, "then this conversation is over." I turned and walked down the street.
"Hey fuck you man!" He hollered after me.

There was a time that an episode like that would have pissed me off, but I found myself smiling. Dude, I think you're doing it wrong.