Back From Boston

As most of you know, I spent the early part of this week in Boston, and now that my first liquid-free travel experience is behind me, I can definitively say that traveling is not as difficult as many have reported. In fact, I wouldn't hesitate to say that my Tuesday morning flight home was one of the most joyful air-travel experiences that I have had in quite some time. Oh sure, in typical United Airlines fashion, the flight was grossly oversold, a reality that resulted in my having been smashed between a 19-year old who apparently hadn't bathed since a hip former member of Menudo made women everywhere (and Andy Dick) swoon while Livin' La Vida Loca and a woman who clearly had spent a few too many evenings drowning in a sea of chocolate pudding at the Old Country Buffett. Not to mention, the guy in front in front of me whose considerable talent would put Terrence and Philip to shame. But hey, when faced with the threats that we are faced with today -- with Bin Laden still at large and anti-Americanism on the rise -- simply making it to one's destination without anything having gone wrong, is cause for celebration. I mean, 980 miles flown and not a single snake on the plane!

The highlight of my trip was a Sunday evening sojourn to Fenway Park for the Red Sox - Yankees game. As many of you know, when I travel, I like to visit the local ballpark and I was extremely exicted when I found out that the Sox would be home when I would be in Boston, as it would give me a chance to finally get to Fenway. Of course, once I found out that it was the hated Yankees that would be in town, I was extremely concerned that an available ticket at a reasonable price would be about as common as an African-American man at a Neil Diamond concert and when I first arrived at the park my greatest fears were realized, as it quickly became evident that trying to get a ticket would be like trying to get a Cabbage Patch Kid in the mid 1980's before people realized that they were just stupid-looking dolls.. Scalpers were asking $125-150 for standing room and there were a lot of Yankee fans looking for tickets. At that point, I figured that I would just belly up to the bar and drink a Sam Adams with my new buddies Seamus and Padraig.

Well, I must be living right or something, because an old guy walked up to me and, after confirming that I was neither Derek Jeter or Alex Rodriguez's twin brother and, therefore, cheering for the Evil Empire (okay, so he really asked me if I was related to Randy Johnson. Can't I live in a fantasy world without being reminded every twenty minutes that I will never be asked to play the new hunky doctor on General Hospital?) he offered me a ticket for face value. Don't look back...I was in the door!

Some observations about the oldest ballpark in baseball...

* I have been as critical of what I like to call the "overrated old relic on Addison" as anyone, but I think that I finally truly understand the attraction of Wrigley and the reason why it has become such a tourist attraction. Just being in Fenway was an absolutely amazing experience. The game itself (while tremendously exciting) really did not matter. I was just excited to walk the concourses, cringe at the crumbling concrete and exposed wires and pipes, gaze at the Green Monster in person and listen to more than 20,000 yound men claim that they once kicked Ben Affleck's ass at the Cambridge Rindge and Latin School. The effect was only intensified by the fact that I had what had to be one of the worst seats in the house, firmly behind a pole, and in one of the remaining sections in Fenway that still has its original cracked wooden seats. Walking up to my seat, the feeling as though I had stepped 65 years into the past was awe-inspiring. I half expected to hear people talking about how Orson Welles' newest epic Citizen Kane is a colossal waste of time, how the newest cereal to hit the shelves, CheeriOats, will never make it because it's flavor is too dang bland, and how the Japanese would never, ever actually have the guts to attack the U.S.. And then, upon arriving at my seat and turning around, I fully expected to see Teddy Ballgame manning left field for the Sox. What an experience!

* As amazing as Fenway is, it certainly is not a particularily attractive ballpark. In fact, comparing Fenway's natural "beauty" to Wrigley's is like comparing Jessica Tandy with Christie Brinkley. Sure, they are both old, but you are putting Barry White's Greatest Hits in the home CD player and chilling a bottle of wine before going out to dinner with only one of them. With the ivy, the buildings on Sheffield and Waveland and the lake in the distance, Wrigley truly is a beautiful park. Fenway, on the other hand, while quirky and unique, is, ultimately, rather blah. The Green Monster is, well, really nothing more than a big green wall. Perhaps, if the game had been during the day, it would have been a lot more attractive, but I have to call em' like I see em' and when I saw em' it was dark.

* So, now that I have walked in the same narrow concourses as John Fitzgerald Kennedy and possibly sat in the same seat as a young John Kerry (oh, who am I kidding? Kerry sure as hell wasn't sitting in the right field corner, three rows from the top. He was probably too busy sitting three rows from the Red Sox on-deck circle explaining that he is in favor of tax cuts for the rich, unless, of course, he isn't) am I backing off my belief that it is time to replace the Wrigleys and the Fenways of the world with new, amenity-filled parks? Absolutely not... The old parks certainly have charm, history and are amazing to visit. But, in my opinion, it is still time to enter the 21st century. See Oriole Park at Camden Yards for a ballpark that incorporates the best of both worlds (in other words, keep the ivy, the manual scoreboard and the overall aura and feel... get rid of the posts, falling concrete, troughs, and, while you are at it, the thousands of fans who could care less about the team and only go to the game because it is a great place to pick up chicks).

* The neighborhood surrounding Fenway was filled with cool bars and other places to hang out. I love the way they have essentially "extended" their concourses by making Yawkey Way part of the ball park and open only to ticket holders. Yawkey Way is the street that runs along the first base line and given that you can fit more people in a 1977 Volkswagen Beetle than in the existing concourse, they have essentially incorporated Yawkey Way into and made it part of the park. It is filled with hot dog and sausage stands, souvenier shops and young Bostonians having a good time. Great idea by the powers that be.

* While most fans were upset with the 50+ minute rain delay that we were forced to endure (especially since most of them had to squeeze into the concourse (no report on whether there were any Snakes in a Concourse!), it gave me an opportunity to explore the park and visit parts of that I otherwise would not have been able to see and experience. With nobody in the seats and no security anywhere to be found, I was able to hug the Pesky Pole, touch the outfield dirt and check out the bullpens (although, as hard as I looked, I could not find Kyle Farnsworth's Grey Goose bottle in the Yankee pen). What about the rain you ask? Well, unlike the Wicked Witch of the West, I remain one of the fortunate ones who does not melt.

* Not sure how the tradition started, but the singing of "Sweet Caroline" in the middle of the 8th inning was something to behold. Almost 36,000 fans yelling "Buh, bup, bup, buh" at the top of their lungs was very cool. I wouldn't push it, though. Song Sung Blue can stay on the shelf.

* Most of the Boston fans proudly wore their Red Sox jerseys and, as expected, the park was filled with countless Schillings, Ortizs and Ramirezes. Most obscure? Well, I could go with the guy who personalized his jersey with "Big Papi," I could select the dude with the "Sam Adams" uniform, I could choose the woman who had "MannyMyManny" spread across here shoulders, or I could go with the apparent president of the "Johnny Damon Must Die" fan club, who simply removed the 'A' from his Red Sox # 18 jersey and replaced it with an 'E.' All good choices, yes? Absolutely. But the winner of the award celebrating the man who most wasted his money has got to go with the guy in the Bellhorn #12. The Horn? Selecting a Bellhorn jersey when you could go with a Varitek, Pedro or even a Pokey Reese is a little like choosing to go with a #11 Indian Head sweater immortalizing Jeff Shantz... strike that... a little like going to see the Meryl Streep farce, The Devil Wears Prada, when you can go see -- yep, you guessed it -- Snakes on a Plane!

* The bottom line is that a chance to see Red Sox - Yankees at Fenway is an opportunity that I simply could not pass up. The game was terrific and I suppose it is only fitting that the Red Sox found an excrutiating way to blow the game. In fact, when closer Jonathan Papelbon gave up a ninth-inning, two-out, game-tying single to Derek Jeter on an 0-2 pitch, it might as well have been Ryan Dempster on the hill...or LaTroy Hawkins...or Mel Rojas...or Rick Aguilera. Ultimately, what a great experience to see a bitter rivalry in a true baseball shrine!

* A quick word about Boston, in general. I have to admit that, before my trip, I had a negative opinion of Beantown. I blame it on a kid named Shaun Grady, who lived a few doors down from me on Floor 5A of Briscoe at Indiana University. Simply put, Sean made Kevin Arnold's bully of an older brother Wayne seem like a nice guy. I realize that it is wrong to judge an entire city based on one person, but, hey, I'm only human. That said, like Buena Vista Pictures when they decided that making a movie starring Shaquille O'Neal as a 3,000 year-old genie named Kazaam who rises out of a boom box was a good idea, I was wrong.

What a terrific city. Incredibly vibrant and chock full of history, I can now see why Boston has been called the "Athens of America." There are few things like walking the Freedom Trail, imagining true patriots planning their fight for freedom. If you have never been there, I highly recommend a weekend getaway. And, I am delighted to report that there was not a single snake in sight.

* Finally, while there were no snakes on the plane, there were no liquids either, and, you know what? The policy and the way it is being carried out ultimately makes no sense. Let's start with a few things that I am sure we can all agree on. (1) keeping liquids that can be used to make a bomb off a plane is absolutely necessary. (2) Screening at the security checkpoint for such liquids is equally necessary and all liquids that are found should be immediately discarded. Everyone in agreement? Good.

Let's take a look at the next step, however. Once you have entered the terminal, you are free to purchase and consume any and all liquids that you desire. But, you cannot bring said liquids on the plane. This makes sense in a vacuum, but does not work in reality due to the fact that they do not re-screen immediately before getting on the plane. All they do is remind you that you cannot bring liquids on the plane. Well, if I am a terrorist and I have managed to get my bottle of liter fluid through security, guess what? I'm just going to put my liquid in my bag and walk right on to the plane. It is not like I am going to be thinking "Oh, they said I could not bring liquid on the plane, I guess I better take this kerosene out of my backpack and throw it in the trash." Feeling "secure" on an airplane because of the rule is a little like feeling secure that your autographed Tyson Barrett boxing glove or Mark Buehrle Excuse Guide is real because it came with a certificate of authenticity. Don't you think the scoundrels who are willing to forge an autograph are also willing to, I don't know, forge a certificate, as well?

The bottom line, is that you either have to re-screen prior to boarding or let people bring their water on board.

Not to mention their snake repellent. Now that can come in quite handy!

***We will return to Cubs, Sox, Bears and general sports talk next week. I promise. Have a great weekend!