As some of the readers may know, I recently moved out of my parents basement and into a 3 story duplex in the fighting city of Waltham, Massachusetts. There are two words that describe Waltham best: Blue Collar. On the surface, Waltham has not been much different than my southern New Hampshire hometown. Allow me to bring you some details on my first day here in town.
I spent most of an early September Saturday moving things into this lovely new abode of mine. My new roommate Wang (see the Lake Winnepasaukee blog entries) was most helpful, helping me lug an hdtv, Playstation, several 30 packs of Busch Light, the Hoopmom blanket, and underwear up to my 3rd floor penthouse suite. The move was the mostly inconsequential part of the day. In the mid-afternoon, after we had completed making my new living quarters feel like home (aka hooking up the surround sound and hanging up a Big Lebowski poster) several of our college buddies arrived. We proceeded to walk to the famous Moody Street Mile. For those of you who have not experienced Moody Street, let me do the math for you:
Nashua Main St
+ more bars that serve Pabst
+ attractive 20 somethings
- unattractive, unfriendly 30 somethings
- Christmas Lights on dying trees
+ A Margaritas featuring bartenders that notice you
- A Margaritas featuring bartenders that don't notice you
= Waltham Moody St
We found some steak and pitchers of beer at the underrated Sadie's Saloon. While named a saloon, Sadie's does not yet have those cool split doors. It does however have good food and cheap beer. After we finished dinner, we proceeded to The Skellig. The Skellig is the Waltham equivalent of Peddler's Daughter. Irish bar, loud music that you cannot hear yourself think over and a drunk Fridge acting inappropriately. We watched Clay Buchholz' no-hitter at the Skellig and I drank too much scotch. With 2 outs, I let the entire bar know that I would be buying drinks for the entire audience if he succeeded. After the last pitch I spent half a week's paycheck on Red Bull and Vodka. Not a good idea.
I noticed two late twenties ladies sitting in a booth not paying any attention to me. I approached them and asked why they didn't take me up on my offer of free drinks. They replied "oh, haha we didn't hear you." At this point, I decided that it was my conquest to get some on my first night in town. Big Ron and I spent an hour or so listening to a cover band ruin No Doubt and Matchbox 20 songs and I gained an interest in the younger, less husky, more attractive, more whorish looking of the twosome. Around 1am, the ladies invited Big Ron and I back to their place for some late-night drinking games. At this point, I started sweating profusely and getting the shakes because I thought that me and Big Ron might be "in." When we got back to these ladies' apartment, we played random drinking games for a while and everyone was really enjoying themselves, so we cool.
As I was about to pounce, I noticed a strange flashlight shining in through one of the windows. Then I noticed flashing blue lights out of another window. My first thought was "oh shit, these girls are really 14 and the guy from MSNBC To Catch A Predator is here." My second thought was, "oh shit, Big Ron isn't allowed within 500 feet of females due to that whole Jessica's Law thing." We heard an aggressive knock on the door and all four of us went to the front door. As simply as the Waltham PD could tell us, we found out "You are being entirely too loud for 2:15 in the morning, the neighbors aren't happy." I followed my old college instinct and did the first thing that popped into my head. I ran away. Big Ron and I got down the street and realized we could have made a wiser choice, but oh well. We stopped and bought a horrific amount of Chinese food for two people at one of Moody St's amazing ethnic food joints and proceeded to walk home. When we got home, Big Ron and I found out that our other three visitors and Wang were not as impressed with the smell of Chinese food at 2:45am as we were. We slept, we got hangovers, I called the night a success.
Could I get away with this kind of garbage at my parents house? Probably. But there was something that was fun about not having my roommates/parents to answer to at home.
Night One: SUCCESSFUL
Post Script: Later that week, after being frustrated that my favorite bird from this night hadn't called me, I got a voicemail on my cell phone that sounded something like the following:
"I don't know who you are, or why your phone number is in my girlfriend's phone, but you and your ogre friend need to stay away from her and stop getting the cops to come to her place."
Yes, I was a little intimidated at first, but after relaying this message to Big Ron, I found out that he and a Virginia Beach veteran named Tuba had totally punk'd me I just felt bad about myself, and I came to a realization.
Night One: UNSUCCESSFUL :-(
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