Thursday 5 April 2012:
Going to bed at like two thirty in the morning was probably
a bad idea. Even worse was waiting until
Wednesday night to get some homework done.
Sure, I procrastinated, but only because I was being lazy. Not a good excuse? Okay, what I meant to say was that rather
than procrastinating, I had children to take care of and a house to
maintain. My garage still needs to be
organized so I can fit some vehicular units in there and I have landscaping out
the ass. Whoever the hell owned this
house before me was an idiot. They
loaded up the entire yard (well most of it anyway) with rocks. Either they were too lazy to keep up a decent
yard, or they were trying to save money on their water bill. Either way, they can kiss my white ass. There is probably a couple ton of rocks
between the front and back yard that I’m going to have to get rid of, and with
my luck, most of it will be by hand rather than a shovel. Oh, and Scrubs has been consuming me, that’s
another excuse for my delay on homework.
Either way, I got quite a bit of that homework done on
Wednesday night so I didn’t have so much to do when I got home from
Boston. Hell, that wasn’t even my
primary concern. I hate leaving my wife
and kids because I’ve grown a vagina since I’ve been married and I have these
weird feelings that make me miss people when I’m not around them. On top of that, I can’t help but to be
nervous about flying. I hate
flying. I seriously would rather get
ganged raped in prison than to fly. Scratch
that, I think I’d rather drink my own urine than fly. I don’t want to be raped, so forget I said
that. Sure I could erase it, but I have
a family to raise and don’t have the time to back track that far. I’m claustrophobic and afraid of
heights. You tell me which part of that
doesn’t make flying a living nightmare for someone like me. They shove you in a giant fucking metal tube
that goes up thirty thousand feet while traveling at five hundred miles an
hour. It’s enough to make me shit
myself, especially when the plane shakes the whole time. Oh, and don’t give me none of that, “flying
is safer than driving” shit either. I
know it is and I don’t care. It’s like
telling a smoker that not inhaling smoke is a safer way to live. He knows, yet he doesn’t care.
So we got up early, kind of. I actually thought my wife was getting out of bed at like 0615 because she wanted to shower and get the kids ready to go to the sitter at a decent time. I was going to get up with her and help her out. Instead I got woken up at like 0700 because my cousin, despite being warned the night before, tried to do a nice thing for my dogs. He opened the door and set off my security system. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure to wake up to that, but it sucks. I flew out of bed and was thankful that I didn’t sleep nude like normal because I hauled it downstairs to shut the alarm off. No house guest cares to see their host running around naked. Shortly after the alarm was stifled, ADT called and was all like, “yo dog, your alarm went off, what gives?” I went through the routine of telling them it was a silly accident and that I was good. It wouldn’t have been so bad if my wife didn’t set the damn thing off on a regular basis. I swear, when a real criminal breaks into my house, ADT won’t even call me to make sure we’re okay. We’re the house that cried rape. What the hell is wrong with me? That’s the second time I mentioned rape in this blog. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, my cousin Brian was staying at my place because he too was headed to Boston and I live closer to the airport than he does. He wasn’t going to PAX East with my Uncle and I, but he still wanted to see the sights.
The rest of the crew was coming from Cheyenne and didn’t hit
the road until around 0730. Normally it’s
like a good 70-90 minute drive to get to Denver International so we figured we had
a little time to kill before heading off to the airport ourselves. A good hour later we showed up at the park n
ride place and I get a phone call from my Uncle telling me to suck it. Apparently my other cousin Brandon (Brian’s
brother) was driving and that had to mean that he did at least a hundred and
twenty all the way there. I think it
runs in the family. I can remember riding
in the car with his dad back home from Nebraska one time and that man is a pro.
So thirty minutes later we were at our gate waiting for our plane. I was pretty hungry because I hadn’t had breakfast, so I decided to grab a coffee and a cookie at the coffee shop. It was a tough choice between that and dining at McDonalds with my cousins. I figured consuming a plate of greasy laxative would be unwise right before I was placed in a metal tube with a hundred people, all of whom disregarded going to the bathroom before boarding the plane. I mean seriously people, what the hell? As soon as that seatbelt light comes off, everyone is headed to drop a deuce.
Fortunately the flight came and went and we landed safely in
Boston. I think I had gotten this image
in my head that Boston was this humungous city, but in reality, it’s not much
bigger than Denver. I think the way it’s
all smashed together makes it look much bigger.
It could also be the fact that they have an underground subway and
Denver doesn’t. But then again, Denver
is a clean city. I don’t know how that’s
relevant, but I just wanted the Bostonians reading this (if any) to know that
Denver is cleaner, in your face. I
mention the size of the city because as we walked through the airport I noticed
that there really weren’t that many people, not compared to DIA anyway.
So before I go on about this trip, you should know something
first. It was originally supposed to be
just my Uncle and I going because we’re gamer nerd extremists all geared up for
PAX East. Apparently my cousins wanted
to tag along so they could see Boston, and then my Grandfather as well because
he’s awesome like that. Well they all
live in Cheyenne, except my cousin Brian who lives in Denver (but frequents
Chey-town more often than I), so they spent a lot of time with each other
planning the trip. I basically got phone
calls asking if I was cool with this or that.
I was naive to think that they had my best interest in mind and I was a
dumbass to not pay more attention to what was going down, you know, for my best
interest. All I heard was the following.
Plane Tickets: 250
Instead of hotel, how about an apartment: 99 dollars each
I need that 99 now.
Why? Because I already paid for
it. What do you mean you don’t want to
pay for lodging before you actually use it?
You buy concert tickets ahead of time don’t you? Well you’re the only dumbass that didn’t get
it that we were paying early.
We’ll take public transportation, cheap stuff bro.
 |
| It's Boston, Duh. |
My next complaint is about public transportation. Holy cow I hate it. Not so much the bus, but the subway. Actually the bus sucked more, but the subway
is a cesspool full of what I can only assume to be the bottom feeders of
Boston. Maybe not everyone, but that’s
just how I see it. I grew up being able
to get myself around and not ever having to worry about getting on an AIDS
invested train three times a day. Hey if
you’re one of those dweebs that plans on leaving a comment telling me that I
can’t get AIDS like that, I know, I’m just being facetious, jackass. So we had to take a subway to get to where we
needed to go. Oh, then we needed to take
a bus to even closer to where we needed to go.
Oh, then we needed to walk a quarter mile to the house. Holy shit, I’d rather hop in the car and
drive! Even better, I’d rather have
hotel within walking distance to where I’m going to be spending the
weekend. Again, I didn’t help plan, so I
had to deal with it. They planned for budget, but that wasn’t a concern for
me. It was certainly too late for me to back
out because Brian took my damn money because he paid for the lodging ahead of
time. I honestly think I may have backed
out and found something closer to the venue; anything closer would have been fine
by me.
The place really wasn’t that bad for thirty three dollars a
night. But thinking of that cheap price
reminds me of the Days Inn I used to stay in when I use to visit an old disease
infested fiancé I had back in the day (she didn’t have diseases then) and I
often paid about one hundred dollars for a three night stay. My room was cleaned every day by someone
other than me. There were plenty of
towels, bar soap, blankets, and it even had a television. This apartment/house/hotel thing in Boston
had three rooms with the hardest mattresses I’ve ever laid on. There weren’t enough towels and the bathroom
didn’t have anything to dry your hands off after washing them. There weren’t enough blankets either because
that first night I froze my ass off. I
wasn’t too upset about those things, but what really urked me was the fact that
there wasn’t at least a TV. All I wanted
to do when I came home from standing all day was to sit down and see what was
on the tube. But nooooooo. I suppose I’m being a little pessimistic
here, so let’s just say I lived. I was
forced to talk to other humans, but it wasn’t that bad. I actually hate TV. I only use mine for movies, games, and
sports. Oh, Days Inn also had Wifi, this
place didn’t. So doing my homework on my
Kindle Fire was out of the question.
Damnit!
Looking back on this, I can say that my pessimistic attitude
could have been because the only thing I had consumed up to that point was a
coffee and a cookie. If you’ve ever seen
those snicker commercials where the masculine dudes become whiny bitches
because they’re hungry, just imagine that being me. I’m a total bitch when I’m hungry and the
only thing in my system is dwindling caffeine and sugar. My cousin Brandon had hooked us all up with a
ghost tour that first night and since my Uncle and I weren’t really going to
get to see Boston (I actually only wanted to see the skyline in person, mission
accomplished), it was a great idea. The
tour was of the haunted placed down town.
It was actually a pretty good time considering it was so cold outside I
began swimming in my clothes. Our tour
guide was a hilarious looking dude. He
didn’t really have anything funny to look at, but I guess the reason I was so
amused was because he was our “professional” tour guide and he looked like one
of those dudes that lived on the street with his mangy dog. He started us off by saying, “Follow me to
one of my favorite spots.” I couldn’t
help but wonder if he was taking us to his favorite dumpster which happened to
be behind the nearest Dunkin Donuts. It
wasn’t. We went to a little area just
outside an alley and he opened up the tour by answering questions that weren’t
asked by anyone and then he asked us for tips.
“Yes, the last question is that this does pay my rent, now
I’m not asking for tips, but they are appreciated.”
My Uncle and I heard
that differently.
“I’m not supposed to ask you for tips, so I’m saying this as
nonchalantly as I can. Will you give me
your money? Thanks.”
 |
| Taken right before the ghost tour. Sam Adams. |
So by this point we lost my Grandfather and my Uncle to the
cold, but we were almost done. Our
street bum was walking us through the park towards some ancient gallows. No, it was a tree that they used to hang
people, and apparently two dogs, from.
He wanted to call the ghosts to come out and say what’s up to us. I believe in ghosts, but I have yet to see
one so at times I can be a skeptic. This
was one of those times where I was like, yeah whatever. The dude pulls out a flashlight and loosens
it enough to make the light go out. He
told us that it could just turn on and off by itself, but ghosts can control it
too. The first couple of times it did turn
on and off I remained unimpressed because it was a loosened flashlight. The wind was probably strong enough to kick
it back on and I can’t really believe that a ghost is doing it. It’s like the one time I was working on a
ranch in the summer and the trailer they had me sleeping in had those
rectangular shaped light switches. Well
the bathroom light switch got caught in the middle between off and on and in the
middle of the night it decided it wanted to be on rather than off. It scared the shit out of me. Watching a scary movie in a creepy trailer by
myself at ten o’clock at night probably didn’t help my fear any. I realized the next morning that the switch
was stuck in the middle and could have gone either way. So I stayed up half the night clutching my
remote control as the only weapon I could find for no reason at all. The same concept goes with this flash light
this guy set down in the middle of the windy park.
I felt like a weirdo being in this group while a bum was
asking if there was anyone who wanted to reveal their presence to us. If I was a ghost, I would just want to scare
the shit out of people, so no; I wouldn’t want to show my presence. Instead I’d like to rip your mangy pony tail
out of your head, or drag you around the park by it. How creepy would that have been? During this drawn out “ghost hunt”, I
happened to catch our “trustworthy” tour guide putting his hand in his pocket to
fidget around with something every single time the flashlight came on or
off. Brandon noticed it too because he
leaned over and said, “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” We must have made quite a commotion about it
because the dude kept looking at us while we were staring at his hand. But from there the flashlight “mysteriously”
stopped working. Wow. Great tour guide, I just don’t get why he had
to act like he found a ghost for us. The
stories he told were worth what I paid to hear them. We at least we got that sort of enjoyment out
of it. I just don’t like when people
treat me like some ignorant asshole that isn’t going to notice a shady tour
guide controlling his flashlight from his pocket. This is the same tour guide who tries to debunk
everything by the way. Phony.
The tour got done shortly after nine PM and I was still
deprived of food. Maybe a cookie wasn’t
the smart choice. It sucked because
everything in Boston closed at the late, late hour of nine PM. Wow. I
had to settle for a Mountain Dew and Snickers from Seven Eleven. Yay, more caffeine and sugar. Smart guy I am. Have you ever seen a gas station downtown in
any large city? I know I’ve never seen
one, and this place didn’t have any gas pumps, just the convenience store. Oh well, we went off to the apartment for
some shut eye. I wound up sleeping on
the couch, which was much more comfortable than the sheets of rock they laid on
a bed frame at that crappy house apartment.
I’ll post part II sometime tomorrow.
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