Don't Look Back

So I had finally seen the Blue Man Group in Las Vegas a few months back. It was a great show which you should see if you like cool music, things that are funny, toilet paper, and bald blue guys. And when I got back home, I looked them up on the web and discovered that they were holding an audition. It was in Boston... which normally would be a problem for someone in Utah. But for a flight attendant... no problem. My girlfriend, who was with me when I saw the Blue Men because I had gone to see them with her, said, "You should go audition." So I followed her advice, mostly because I usually end up regretting it when I don't.
This trip was a milestone for me, because it's been the first trip since I've been attending flight that I've created and undergone completely solo. Boston is also in Massachusetts, which is number 38 over there on the WTHIP Map (kinda small, but it is there). I landed sometime in the afternoon, and was in front of a subway map, completely screwing up the subway route to the hotel when a kindly soldier who was a local helped me out. A word about soldiers these days... these are people who are getting paid damn near minimum wage to go get shot at in a very inhospitable place, and if anyone has a right to be snarky, it's them. And I have yet to meet one who's a jerk. I did see one from Alabama who was kinda off-color. But they're all genuinely nice folk, and I really hope that when I was a soldier, I was that kind.

Took the train (which reminded me of San Francisco, which in turn reminded me of Chicago) to the hotel to put down my stuff in order to turn right around and take the train back downtown to find some trouble. Passed an important American guy's house, and my American History teacher would be very cross to hear that that's all I could come up with. Discovered an underground mural:

This led me to believe, after some study, that this subway had been the first one in America. I guess that's the one all over the walls in newsprint at Subway the sandwich place. It was actually neat to be in an historical place like that, which might win me back some points from my American History teacher, and more from my English teacher for correctly articalizing 'history' with an 'an.' Although she might take those back after the constructionation of that last sentencement.

Stumbled up some stairs and ended up in the Boston's Theater District, where I undertook a very loose hunt for the Charles Playhouse, in which I would be drumming the next day. Never found it, but I did eat at a place called Rock Bottom. I subscribe to the theory that if a place calls itself something that would make you not want to eat there, it must be good enough to eclipse the name. And I was right. This time.
Next morning I warmed up my drumming chops and headed out for destiny.

After a brief interview, I found myself across a drum pad from a very tall bald guy, who I suspect was a blue man with white guy makeup on. He led me through a series of rhythms that I mostly kept up with. However, while trying to adjust dynamics on certain notes, I failed in the spectacular way usually reserved for Olympic athletes. I was supposed to go BAkaBAkaBAkaBAka, and I was looking right at my hands, telling them, "Do it! Do what I say!" And they went BAKABAKABAKABAKA! So the bald guy looked over his shoulder at the long haired guy who wasn't paying much attention. "You need to see anything else?"
Long haired guy said, "Nope." And thus ended my career as a Blue Man.

Luckily, Boston is a cool place to trudge though with your double armful of broken dreams. For example, I ended up in Boston Common, which was right there north of the Theater District. It's a big park.

Lots of history in it. Like this Declaration thing here, which apparently a lot of people wrote on:

I'd like to take a moment to say out loud that I believe that this is not a gravestone.
After a while in the park, I was thinking drowning my sorrows would be good. Wanted to go to a place where everybody knew my name. Where they were always glad I came. Where I can see our troubles are all the same. And wouldja look at this:

Yep, that's Cheers. Not quite the one you saw on TV. This is the Bull and Finch Pub, which is the one that inspired the set for Cheers. The producers had the show in mind and took a tour of Boston, trying to see what kind of bar they wanted the show to happen in, and this was the one they picked. Across town there is another Cheers, this one a replica of the set. But I checked out the original, and in it I had fish and chips, in honor of the Northeast. I don't know why I always think fish and chips is going to taste like something, but it never does.
And that's Boston. I'd like to go back one day, maybe to catch a Blue Man show or to stroll through Boston Common. Or maybe to find out what American guy's house that was.