I hear it's nice in the Summer, some snow would be nice...

Boston, MA

USA

Here's what you've missed:

• Seattle, WA


• Vancouver, BC


• Chicago, IL


• Toronto, ON


• Montreal, QC


• New York, NY Updated! See below.

So, er, sorry about that... I've got some half-written postings for some of those locations which I may publish at a later date.

But I'm in Boston now (or Bah-ston as many a t-shirt, bumper sticker and novelty condom proclaim. They're very proud of the Boston accent) and staying with Lauren and her family of roommates in their splendiferous apartment just across the road from Harvard. It's oppressively hot.

Last night, we went to dinner at a lovely Family-owned pizza joint in town. (Note the capitalisation of the "F" in "Family"; it is not incidental.) Lauren and I arrived a little late (she on crutches, but that's another story) and were greeted by the customary sausages which are an essential (and curious) prelude to any meal at this place. Later, our three pizzas were delivered to the table by an older gentleman. Estimates placed his age at somewhere between 70 and 110 years old. Tall with greying hair and a slightly hunched back, he had the classic thick Italian-Boston accent and the charming Boston-Italian who-gives-a-flying-fuck attitude.

The pizzas were delivered stacked one atop the other, layer cake style: Tray/Pizza/Tray/Pizza/Tray/Pizza. They were very tasty. Once we had had our fill, there was still a considerable portion of pizza remaining, so one of our company asked aging waiter if we could "get it boxed" (doggy bags are the norm in this country). He remained hunched, then grunted or snorted (I'm not sure which) and walked away. Did he hear us? Was that acknowlegement?

About ten minutes later, he reappeared, and reached for the remaining tray of pizza.
"Oh," said Kristen. "We wanted to take th..."
"AH HEARD YA," he drawled.

Oh.

Pizza is returned, boxed, and bill is delivered. The only thing we can make out on the little scrap of paper is the price, so we each went to put in some cash.

"Do yah need change?" offered Aging Italian, gruffly.
"Yeah if we could, like, get a ten and two fives from this?"
"HAVE FOUR FAHVS"
Me: "Oh, and I need some fives too."
"GET EM FROM HER," referring to the earlier recipient of the four fives.
Aging waiter turns to walk away.
"WHADDOEYE LOOK LIKE, AH BANK?"

We pay, and hand over the bill along with the cash.
"AH DONNEED THAT!" he spat, throwing the bill on the table.

Add to the friendly service the suspicious doorway at the back marked

This is NOT an exit.
Staff only.

and the numerous men in blood-stained white aprons who entered said room carrying bundles of large spikes. What can I say?

The place has character.