Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Boston Massacre 2006

Saying I am a free spirit is probably an understatement – saying that I am the most fun, might be more on target. For those who read this site and have had the pleasure of knowing me in person and had the privilege of raising a glass or five over some good stories and loud music can attest to the fact - you'll never have a bad time in my presence….its something I can pride myself upon. Everybody has their "thing" – me? I'm go with the flow, up for anything and never in a bad mood.

Stop laughing its true.

There are times though when even me, Meredith, the Best from East, the Wild Crazy Beast, must sit one out…..and it is due to one event in particular that I must now bow out for a smidgen of time and begin to retire because I bring a new meaning to the words Boston Massacre.

A brief foreground to this momentous occasion is that Jannette, Francesca, Marianna and myself headed up to Boston for the weekend. Why? ….more like - Why not? Friday we get there about 9:30 a.m. and hit the ground running doing the site seeing thing when I remember my friend Matty Slo happens to be from Boston and sure enough – he's there and ready to party. VERY LONG STORY SHORT – we meet up with him and some friends and the fun begins…..three bars, about a hundred Sam Adams and countless shots later, I'm not remembering much and standing upright is becoming burdensome…..

[Side note: for those who have partied with me, I can hold my own, I have never ever been "that girl" but this was past my breaking point fo sho and besides, there is a first for everything…..]

We leave the bar and bid farewell to the lovely male liquor providers. Noticing that Francesca, Jannette and Marianna are boarding a bus, I join them on what I think is our ride home. Nope - not happening - the visions of sugar plums dancing in my head were not to be mine just yet. Instead we have embarked on a Party Bus that will be giving us our own private tour of Boston. What you need to know, and what I didn't know at the time was:

(a) my friends knew the people running the tour
(b) it wasn't a real tour, these guys just took the bus for after hours fun (one is a manager of the company)
(c) the bus driver, was not a real bus driver

Uh yeh…….

Off we go, putt-putting about town, music blaring, disco ball spinning, strobe lights glaring, beers are being passed around like herpes on a whore. I'm in the front of the bus with the bus driver perched upon a speaker/console – its all good – I'm friggin Captain Carl man!!!! I got this on lock as co-pilot. Using a friend's phone, peering out of only one eye……you know…..for better focus, I begin texting other friends what a great time we're having when suddenly the bus stops….but it stops HARD and then there goes Mer…..bumbling down the stairs like a Ragity Anne Doll.


Like a true champ I get back up, I've bumped my head and I have a small cut under my eye, but again, its all good because I'm alive, not hurting bad and we're having a good time. I'm not a kill a joy….oh no, I'm the maker of joy, the Kris Kringle if you will of good times, a silly little cut is not stopping me nor will I allow it to hinder the happiness of my friends. HELL TO THE NO…..stopping now would be blasphemous.

Back in my co-pilot's seat (no I didn't learn), we move onward and the bus begins to slow down and pull over on a bridge/highway allowing us all to pile out and look at the beautiful Boston skyline. All is well and we're happy, however, due to the fact that I have fallen once and I'm injured, it has become my duty to brainstorm like a drunken champ because it has occurred to me, after about a good 45 minutes, that I don't seem to know these people who we're with.

Bonnie Braniac over here decides to start using the phone again texting my good friends Anthony and Gerard – one gets a picture of my eye, the other, the license plate of the vehicle we were in. Uh yeh…..come on….give a drunk girl a break, I thought I was doing some CSI bullshit. In return I got frantic replies of "OMG Mer where are you? What is going on? Are you ok?" To which I tried to alleviate concerns but I highly doubt that was accomplished as I had the attention span of gnat at that point, but I digress…… After I climbed back over the guard rail and enjoy the scenery with everyone else, we decide to load ourselves back on the bus and head out.

Guard rail???? Highway???? WTF????

Again Coked-up Carl is at the helm lunging the bus forward with the tenacity of a Nascar driver barreling through the streets of Boston clearly on a mission, when all of a sudden, the bus jerks even harder than earlier while rounding a corner…..this time a few more people fall down on each other piling up like a short stack of pancakes, but when they get back up…..Mer is back down the stairs again. This time though, I just laid there taking a mental inventory of what condition I was in before I moved. I knew right away, I had chipped a tooth and I had bitten my lip so hard I was swallowing copious amounts of blood.


Hands reach out to grab me, but bad ass that I am, I put up my hand in the STOP formation, wave everyone off, get back up and well I don't remember quite much else because I think the brain swelling began at that point…however I do believe I finally cried. Everyone was a little shook up and it was at last, time to go home. I do remember disembarking the bus and turning to the guys and uttering to them, "I'm not paying for this ride and neither are any of my friends for that fact." I think Marianna wrapped her arm around me and ushered me back in the hotel…..I think.

The next day the girls wake up to find they are sharing a room with Rocky Balboa, hey I call it like I see it and I got a little messed up the night before. Of course in my twisted world, I found most of the stories funny because we start re-telling the events of the evening before and it continues to get worse:

Me: "I hope none of you paid for that ride last night. I told them I wasn't paying."

Jannette: "Mer, we knew those guys."

Me: "We did? When did we meet them? I don't remember meeting them."

Francesca: "You were off somewhere, it was in the last bar."

Me: "Oh man, that rips it."

Marianna: "If we ever hear that term again……Mer you were yelling YOU RIP IT to everyone in the last bar."

Me: "I was??? When was I doing that?"

Francesca: "Just after we ordered the food."

Me: "There was FOOD!?!? When was there FOOD?"

Oh boy.

1 comment:

Dave said...

Looks like you chipped a nail too (right hand ring finger). Boston's usually a good time but it's no NY.