First Trip to Fenway

Well, I guess I lost some steam writing up my Boston musings. I assure you that I have not become so comfortable that this city has lost its novelty. More often these days, I catch myself admiring Boston. My admiration is greatest during my long runs through Cambridge, over the salt and pepper bridge to Beacon Hill and then along the Charles River. There's something about those sail boats. Confined to one area, the sail boats are always on top of each other, like toys in a bathtub.

Last night I went to Fenway Park for the first time. I can see what all the fuss is about. Perhaps Red Sox fans would scoff at my choice in adjectives, but it's adorable! I agree that building a new stadium would be a travesty. Of course, I may have sung a different tune had I sat behind one of the beams. My view from the bleachers, however, was unobstructed. It was a perfect night for baseball--clear and about 75 degrees.

I arrived at the bottom of the first, after the Rangers had managed to score 6 runs. I really wanted to wear my Derek Jeter t shirt, despite everyone telling me I'd get beer spilled on me. When my cousin Conor told me that it probably wouldn't be a wise idea to wear Jeter's name in the bleachers, I took notice. Conor is the calmest Boston sports fan I know. I cannot say I was disappointed to see the Sox ultimately lose 7-2.... I hope to make it back again when the Yankees are there. In that case, I will definitely have Jeter's name emblazoned on my back.

A Storied Series

At this point, it's cliche to compliment Pixar's movies. Every single one of their movies is funny, visually pleasing, and heart warming. Yet, despite these three similarities, they do not feel the same. I would love to shadow Pixar's creative team for a while to see how they do it. Creating pure childish joy in cinematic form is no small task. Yet, it seems that they've perfected the recipe.

The Toy Story series will go down as one of the best. Many a series that starts strong deviates at some point--usually because the studio simply strives to keep the series going to make money. Obviously, Pixar is hoping to bring home bacon. But when I watch Toy Story, I forget that toys don't come to life when humans aren't around. These movies are so genuine that I leave the theater feeling that I've neglected my own childhood toys. In fact, after seeing Toy Story 3, I brought my favorite stuffed animal, Blue Rocky, to my home in Boston to make up for years of ignoring him.

Each installment of Toy Story has offered new insight on life, childhood and the inevitability of growing up and moving on. I went into the third movie wondering if they could truly explore these themes any further. They absolutely succeeded. I love this series' straight forward perspective on childhood. The toys never treat Andy like a child. He is their partner in crime; their fellow adventurer. Toy Story makes one nostalgic about childhood without forcing it. Andy's toys go through great lengths and survive great peril just so they can make believe with him. Reality may have its own action sequences, but Andy's fantasy world remains the priority.

The third movie pulls harder at our heartstrings. Andy has undeniably grown out of childhood now. He's even driving himself to college without his family. (Anyone else find it strange that Andy's mom didn't drive him?) Watching him bid farewell to his toys, I actually wept in the theater. Our toys are among our best friends as we grow up, and I don't know that we all take the opportunity to pay tribute to them. I don't remember when I stopped being able to play make believe with toys. But the Toy Story series allows us to cope with that loss by making us believe in Woody, Buzz, Jessie, Bullseye, and the rest of the gang. With this series, we realize that our inner child is alive and well.

Just One Small Concession

Okay, I don't want everyone to flip out Jerry Maguire style. So just sit down and remain calm as I tell you this. I'm allowing myself to root for the Bruins. Yes, the Boston Hockey team. BUT THAT IS IT. When I moved, everyone loved making jokes about me jumping on the Sox and/or Patriots band wagon, which will NEVER happen. I am confident that I can justifiably be a Bruins fan.

First of all, I came to Boston with an absolutely clean slate in terms of Hockey fanaticism. Okay, so maybe I was a fake Rangers fan for 5 minutes in the 90s when they had Messier and those other good players. I, however, can't even tell you what the other players names were. I think Gretzky may have even played for the Rangers for a year? In other words, I know NOTHING about hockey. I think that permits me to root for the Bruins.

Secondly, why NOT root for them this year? It's the playoffs already and they're doing well. This could be instant gratification at its best. I have nothing to lose by rooting for a team that has a chance of winning the Stanley Cup.

Finally, I'm dating someone who is a Boston sports fan. Between baseball and football seasons, I figure this brief lull where we can sit and watch a game without worrying about witty and slightly cutting remarks whenever key plays are made will be delightful. So, it is not so much a compromise as a political maneuver.

All of that said, playoff hockey is really entertaining. Three goals were scored within the first 10 minutes in last night's game three of the Bruins vs. Flyers conference semifinals series. Sure I have no idea what icing means and sort of hate that they allow fighting, but what the heck, when in Rome.

The Water is [not] Always Good.

This weekend I went on a mini excursion to Philadelphia. The weather was akin to a late July hot spell. The novelty of 89 degrees made the stickiness bearable. At some point on Saturday night, after many hours of enjoying the Derby and its accompanying refreshments, my friend Megan attempted to read an obscure text she got from one of those incomplete numbers. "Boil water emergency? Emergency boil water?" By all accounts, she made no sense. So, we simply ignored her. In the light and clarity of Sunday, we then learned of the water drama up in Boston. (We think Northeastern texted all their students to notify them, hence the weird number for the text.)

When I got back home late last night, I realized just how spoiled we are by clean water. Pouring Poland Spring on my toothbrush made me feel like some diva celebrity. (There was once a rumor that Cameron Diaz only washed her face with Evian.) I took a cool shower before bed and freaked out when a little water got in my mouth. All of this said, my address is Cambridge, which has a separate safe water source. Though, the fact that the Somerville town line is spitting distance from my apartment made me willing to abide by the water advisory for the night.

In the midst of all of this, I am reminded of one of my favorite high school memories. It became a tradition for each graduating senior class to put on some sort of comedy meeting in the Spring. When I was a junior, a group of senior boys put on "Thursday Morning Live" which included a live Faculty Jeopardy skit (for the record, it was absolutely hilarious). They also filmed commercials, one of which was for Lawrenceville water. Lawrenceville bottled water is handed out in mass quantities at all Lawrenceville functions. It has a black label emblazoned with the school seal, Virtius Semper Viridis. The seniors showed a nerdy scientist explaining the make up of water and how Lawrenceville bottles it: they go to the water spout for dorm garden hoses and fill them up. At the end of the skit, the nerdy scientist says, "Virtius Semper Viridis: The water is always good." Needless to say, that line has been in my head for the last twenty four hours. I don't think Massachusetts Water Resources Authority will adopt that motto anytime soon.

Marathon Monday

I know that I shouldn't really complain, since I am thrilled to be an employee at Harvard, which showers us with generally high quality of life as well as many benefits and discounts. I am, however, sorely disappointed that Harvard does not give its employees Patriots Day/Marathon Monday off. It is a very obvious shortcoming.

Perhaps Harvard prides itself on its Cambridge location and, since the marathon does not go through this part of the city, feels no need to observe the holiday. Maybe Harvard is taking a stand for Cambridge by not acknowledging the giant race across the river. Harvard, however, cannot deny its ties to Boston and the fact that we don't get to rejoice and enjoy a day off in Spring to celebrate is sort of a travesty, in my opinion.

If Harvard didn't happen to give us Columbus Day off, I might have made a fuss about it, but I suppose I don't really have the authority to get any sort of traction on getting Patriots Day off.

Hope the rest of you Bostonians enjoyed it for me!

"Hey Dad, welcome to my home!!"

Tomorrow will be a revolutionary day in the life of Sophie Fitzgerald. For the first time, my father will visit a residence of mine. I am beyond excited to show him my new apartment and the neighborhood. There was a quick debate about whether or not he should book a hotel room for the weekend. I immediately shut that idea down. Granted, I don't have a pull out couch yet and it may not be the finest home visit he'll ever had, but I really want to host him. "Dad," I said, "you put me up for 25 years. The least I can do is give up my bedroom for two nights." He laughed and accepted my offer. I am going to sleep on an aerobed for the first night. My roommate has graciously allowed me to sleep in her bed on Saturday while she is home for Easter.

Sure, our living room is as sparse as a doctor's office waiting room. Yes, I need to hang up curtains. But it's my home and I'm confident that my dad will be happy with my new little nook in life. I keep wondering if I'll feel like an adult when I realize that he's staying over at my place. Probably not.

I'll have the full report in a few days.

!@#$%^&*

I had my first culture shock meltdown this week. It culminated in a lot of cursing, which may have completely frightened my roommate.

Harvard offers a discounted monthly T pass. If you buy one full price, it costs $59.00. Harvard's pass is $29--yes, God bless Harvard discounts. In any event, I was told repeatedly that even after you sign up for the Harvard pass, it takes months to get started. A few coworkers told me that I probably wouldn't get the Harvard one until May. So, resigned to not overdo it with refills in April, I went to buy a monthly T pass on Sunday afternoon. When I tried to use it, it didn't work. I then realized that Boston monthly passes are limited to calendar months. So, my pass would not work until Thursday, April 1st. In NYC, monthly Metro Cards are 30 days. You can get one in the middle of the month and it works for 30 days, no matter what month it is. In fact, if you buy it the last day of January, it'll work through February and into March 1st--assuming it's not a leap year.

In any event, as Julia and I are recounting our days last night, I opened the mail and a shiny Harvard Charlie card fell out of an envelope. F-bombs ensued. This is the other thing about the Charlie Card. You cannot return them. Monthly metro cards can be reimbursed if you bought them with a credit card. This is completely unfair, particularly if you lose your card. I bet Boston makes a lot of money of people who lose or destroy monthly passes by accident. (And especially when morons like me buy an extra one.) They really should allow for refunds.

I quickly calmed down, however, thinking of the Moscow Metro. $59.00 definitely feels like chump change when you compare it to the value of a human life. Soon after, I found someone who was willing to buy it from me for a small loss. Again, in light of the Moscow Metro tragedy. I quickly accepted the offer and vowed not to complain about any transportation issues ever again, unless my life was endangered.

A Walk to Remember

Perhaps my favorite part of my new job is its proximity to my home. I am just over a mile from Harvard's Alumni office, which makes for a lovely walk to and from work. That is, when the weather permits. At some point I will probably have to address the fact that the weather in this city makes what I've heard of Seattle sound sunny. For now, I will remain in denial and avoid commenting on that for as long as possible.

I have now experienced all three types of commuting: driving, public transportation and walking. Walking is clearly the most pleasant, as you don't need to worry about delays or traffic. Theoretically, you get to enjoy a little sunshine and fresh air if you don't live in a temperate weather zone. Knowing that I get to work my legs before and after sitting at a desk all day makes me happier in general. I am further motivated to walk because I do not have a monthly T pass yet, which makes a one stop T ride feel exorbitantly expensive.

Of course, each means of commuting has its perks. I did enjoy listening to the radio when I had to drive 35 minutes each way to Emmaus when I lived in Reading, PA. I also may have had some of my best car concerts ever as I sang along with the radio or my iPod. (If there had been a hidden mic or camera, I'd definitely be on VH1 storytellers for some of those performances.) My subway commute in NY provided some of my favorite Metropolitan Diary type moments. You really never know who you'll run into on the Subway. Of course, with the good you have to take the bad, and man there are some weirdos on the subway.

Walking trumps all, of course. I may change my tune when summer temperatures hit 80 degrees and I've sweat through my work clothes before arrival. Though, aforementioned weather tendencies may prevent high temperatures from ever being a factor. This morning, I sipped coffee and listened to half of Coldplay's Rush of Blood to the Head album. All in all, I come to work in a good mood, which sets the tone for steady and cheerful productivity.

A True 9-5

Almost 3 years out of college, I have begun to fully realize the ungodly amount of time the majority of human being spend in offices. Many a day I curse society for advancing to the point where we all sit in front of screens and communicate without contact all day. Those kind of days make me think the old agrarian format of just growing food for your family as a full time job is the way to go. At least you're outside in the elements, instead of hunched over at a desk all day. This week, I sat outside for lunch twice. Each day, I came back to discover that I had a slight sunburn from ONE hour outside. Apparently, I am Gollum.

This has changed recently, in that I work a true 9 to 5 job. Having come from a job where I worked from 8:30 until 6:30 or 7 (if not later), I honestly feel like I work half days now. I leave the office, go to the gym, grocery shop, and I'm home before 7. I'm not even cheating by taking public transportation. I'm walking everywhere. This has added immensely to my general quality of life.

New York has somehow to set the precedent for long grueling hours. It's the city that never sleeps and therefore it has to be the most productive. When we talk hours in New York, people seem to think they're more important when they work 50+ hours a week and are always reachable via blackberry. We have come so far from the days when we had to put down our pitchforks, plows, butter churners with the sunset. We all know, however, how much time everyone is wasting at work these days. Gchat, facebook, youtube, blogs, etc etc. If we eliminated all of that, we would still all work 9-5.

Meanwhile, my internet browser has gchat, facebook, and Bill Simmons' blog open while I write this post.... At least I can leave at 5.

Dunkin Donuts

Dunkin Donuts is to Boston as Starbucks is to New York City. That is to say, Dunkin Donuts is practically viral. I must say that I don't prefer one over the other simply because their function is purely caffeine delivery. I'm not going to argue over which has more charm, since chains cannot have charm.

DRIP COFFEE
There is absolutely no doubt that Dunkin Donuts brewed coffee is far better than the bitter bitter brew of Starbucks. Not only does Dunkin's coffee taste better, but it is cheaper. Also, DD is a drip coffee kind of place. The minute you go to DD and start modifying your latte past the point of recognition--the avid Starbucksgoer's favorite pastime--you'll quickly realize you're not in Midtown anymore by the resulting glares. You will be judged for being a pretentious New Yorker.

ESPRESSO DRINKS
Starbucks edges out DD when it comes to espresso based drinks. I have ordered infinite cappuccinos there, and about 65% of the time they are tasty. Yes, cappuccinos easily become lattes when you encounter the novice barista, but you can count on the espresso based coffee to be perfectly satisfying. My mom once said many years ago that Starbucks espresso drinks are definitely not the best in the world, but they are good enough AND they are everywhere. You know you will probably get a serviceable cappuccino both from a Starbucks on the Upper West Side of Manhattan and also from one in Pacific Palisades, California. (Note: We cannot vouch for cappuccinos in Tulsa, Oklahoma.)

On a few occasions, I have attempted to order a cappuccino from DD. Calling it a wet cappuccino is wrong. Calling it a latte is also inaccurate. It is just a cup of hot milk.


FOOD
This is where there's no real point in comparing. Starbucks promotes itself as having more gourmet options with items like "Perfect Oatmeal." Dunkin Donuts is home of the munchkin. Each is catering to different demographics. Even if you claim to be above Dunkin Donuts, don't kid yourself. Everyone loves a chocolate glazed munchkin. It is one of the world's great periodic culinary guilty pleasures.


CUPS
I commend Dunkin Donuts for it's medium size cup top. It has a built in device that allows you to block the drinking hole, which is key when rushing to catch a train, taxi or flashing pedestrian light. This device also comes into play when one has to tote multiple cups of coffee. We all know I just left publishing. Publishing is known for two things: words and coffee runs. Believe me, if I had been sent to Dunkin Donuts for coffee runs during my publishing career, I would have never dealt with Starbucks foam spray that escapes from the drinking hole of their solo lids. Yellowstone National Park and standing on a coastal rocks at high tide are the metaphors that come to mind. Though, Starbucks makes up for this major annoyance from November 1st to December 31st with their Christmas cups. My love and affection for those cups is beyond words. Let's just say that I when speak about them, I slip into capital letters followed by many exclamation points...

Your Local Coffee Shop
Living in NY certainly racked up my patronage at Starbucks. But, I will always prefer a local coffee shop. One where the servers may not know your name, but they know you. They let you sit for hours and maybe pick up a coffee if you're a dollar short that day, knowing you'll be back to buy another and put a tip in the jar next time. These are the kind of coffee shops that invite you to linger over your coffee. Cafes like this promote writing, reflection, and profound conversation. The Hungarian Coffee Shop in NYC is a great example of a truly awesome coffee shop.

There is a Cafe near my Cambridge apartment that also embodies the perfect coffee shop. It is only open from 7 am to 4 pm and serves the happiest cappuccino I've had in a long time. After utilizing Starbucks in NYC for so long, it is amazing to sit at Cafe Rustica. In NYC, the world stops for no one. In fact, it picks up its pace. Sure, you can get a ceramic mug if you ask for it Starbucks, but the city and world spins at break neck pace outside. You're sure to fall behind if you stop to smell the roses and sip your latte. At Rustica, however, they have a set of free newspapers for you to peruse. They will bring you your coffee if the line is backed up a little. They sprinkle cinnamon or chocolate on top. And though I am neither in NYC nor am I in my Cambridge apartment, I take a sip and feel at home.

Boston: Part II

PAN HANDLERS Every city is going to have their fair share of them. It's unavoidable. Boston's population is over 600,000--compared to New York's 8 million--so of course there are going to be fewer panhandlers. What really makes a difference, though, is the T. Passengers do not move between trains. I assume it is possible to do so, in the event of a fire or emergency, but I have not seen one person do it yet. Thus, T rides are incredibly pleasant, as I am guaranteed to get on and off without a soul crushing guilt trip when a guy with both of his legs amputated above the knee drags himself across a subway car floor on his way to the next car. It has diminished commuter stress immensely.

My T stop is the Porter Square stop. In New York, it was the 96th street station. On rare occasions, there would be a rather talented musician at the 96th street station. Though, stations like Times Square and Penn Station are the headliner venues for Subway performers. I recall one December day last year when a guy was playing Christmas carols on an acoustic guitar in the 96th street stop. It was beautiful. Porter Square has talented musicians playing every day of the week. I'm pretty sure this has to do with the fact that T performers are required to get a permit to play. I believe it's about $25 dollars for the year, but it has a profound effect on the mood of a T station. Many a morning I briefly consider waiting for the next train so I can hear a banjo player finish a song. In New York, there is no permit requirement; riff raff ensues.

PEDESTRIANS Boston pedestrians make kamikaze pilots look like cowards. I had lunch with my boss last week and about 5 minutes after telling me very sternly that I was not to walk through Cambridge Common at night, he weaved me through moving traffic without batting an eye at the rather swiftly moving cars. I'm already a nervous city driver, so adding these crazy pedestrians into the mix when I drive around Boston is almost too much to bear.


RUNNERS There are plenty of active people in NYC. I consider myself a runner now and racked up decent mileage in both Central and also Hudson River Parks. Boston, however, takes it to a new level. People run here in all kinds of horrible weather. It will be 19 degrees and snowing, but these die hard runners will don their under armor and head out. The worst part is that Boston runners are the ultimate kamikaze pedestrian. Not only will they weave through traffic, but they come out of nowhere. I get quickly annoyed when I see someone running under certain conditions; mainly when it's cold, raining (cold AND raining), and when it's Sunday. Sunday is really my biggest anti-running day. It's SUNDAY people! Go put your feet up and read the paper!!!! God forbid it's a rainy cold Sunday and I see someone running here. I suppose I'll have to get used to it.

Boston

Although this is technically an entertainment blog, I need to regroup for a few posts to discuss not choice amusement, but a recent life decision of my own. Within the last month, I made the leap from New York to Boston. I went from the Upper West Side to Cambridge. I am experiencing the standard culture shock that comes from not only moving, but also moving out of my parents house. There's also the culture shock of the sudden immersion to the greater Boston area. Stay tuned for more observations as I make my transition. Here are my first impressions.

THE ACCENT Alright, we've all mocked the accent at some point. "I pahked the cah in Hah-vahd yahd." Frankly, it happens with all accents--New York's is not excluded from this group. ("I bet the Chinese food is tehrrible.") The Boston accent, however, has really thrown me for a loop. In New York city, the accent basically doesn't cross into Manhattan. Unless you wander around the Bronx or Queens, you're really not going to get much exposure to it. (Side note: in a recent job interview in downtown Manhattan, the interviewer, a New Yorker, commended me--another native New Yorker--for not having an accent. I was thoroughly confused, as I haven't met any native Manhattanite who has spoken with an accent.)

I know I will quickly get accustomed to it, but the Boston accent surprised me because when I think of strong prevailing regional accents in America, I think of the south and the midwest. I never thought that I should throw Boston on that list too.

THE SOX My first visit back to New York, I will keep a tally of all the Yankee gear I see. I think it may have become white noise to me, because the sox paraphernalia I see day in and day out is overwhelming. Part of the shock comes from the fact that I definitely see Yankee baseball hats in the spring, summer and early autumn. I don't really remember seeing Yankee winter gear all over town. Obviously, Boston has a longer winter, so fans are forced to buy winter seasonal fan gear. I am pretty sure that it will take me a year before I grow accustomed to seeing Red Sox stuff everywhere. I'm sure I'll have more on Red Sox culture once the season starts, too.

THE T New York's subway system has many superior characteristics to it than the T. Bostonians love to hate the T. So far, I have found it reliable and clean. Sure, it closes early, is prone to delays, and is basically pointless when it doesn't run underground. But, one aspect almost makes up for all its shortcomings: the Charlie Card. I would say 4 out of 5 days when commuting to work in New York City, I'd get stuck behind some idiot who didn't know how to properly swipe their Metrocard. It requires skill to smoothly execute the Metrocard swipe as you walk through the turnstyle. The Charlie Card, however, allows you to wave it near an electronic sensor and you're on your way. Not only does this allow for a great margin for error because you don't have to get a magnetic strip in just the right spot, but you don't have to remove your Charlie Card from your wallet. I cannot even tell you how great that is. So many times this winter, I had forgotten to properly replace my Metrocard back into my wallet. This usually occurred when a train was in the station and I would quickly put my card in my pocket in order to run to catch my train. I would realize this the next day, when I would be wearing a different coat than the day before. Cursing ensued.

Will I love Boston more than New York? Probably not. My loyalty to New York runs thick. I also think that on a point of pride, I could never admit to liking Boston more. So far, however, Boston has welcomed me warmly and I find myself feeling very much at home.