Guest Post: Boston

From time to time we here at Evil Empire 2.0 get an odd feeling—an itch you might call it. We’re not sure what it is, but it might be “friendliness.” Well, we got one of these feelings today and decided to open up our forum to another voice: thag00se. Here we go, guest spot #1 (of maybe many… contact us if you’d like to do a guest spot):

Boston.

This word has little meaning for the majority of Americans. It’s just another city along the Eastern Seaboard. But for Yankee fans everywhere, this word conjures up deep feelings: hatred, angst, pride, a little (or a lot) more hatred, and for this Yankee fan a memory or two—a story of endurance.

It’s sacrilege, but I as a Yankee fan went to college in Boston and spent 5 long years there. A momentary lapse of high school judgment planted me in the rival city.

Upon first glance it’s a city just like any other, but if you spend more than a day here you’ll see strange things. For example, the insanity of a gaggle of Red Sox fans running through the streets, screaming at the top of their lungs when their team wins, or riots and burning cars in the streets for a Division Championship, or my personal favorite: the endless and never changing “Yankees Suck” chants up-and-down Landsdowne Street (can they come up with anything better? It isn’t even that insulting).

But not only do you see strange things while living in Boston, but something strange happens to you. A primitive instinct kicks in and you somehow manage to find more of your kind—even if you aren’t trying to. You flock together like a group of lion cubs trying to avoid the prowling hyenas. If one of you strays from the pack… well, only whatever god you pray to can help, because it is always open season on Yankees fans. The hyenas attack from the shadows. No matter how well-versed you are in how much better the Yankees are than the Red Sox and how New York is than Boston there is no hope of turning a group of blood-thirsty Bostonians away with logic.

You must endure insane roommates who spend $900 dollars on a piece of sod from Fenway Park to stick in their lawn, the random people on the street yelling at you if you don any kind of NY garb at all. And you had better make sure that your NY plates are covered up when there is a big game or you are parked in a garage because your car could be the one flipped over on the street or set ablaze.

I survived all the tests of living in Boston and thankfully escaping was easy for me. Boston just doesn’t measure up on anything—from Pizza and Chinese food, to bars and the strangely run T system—which stops running at 12:30 am (why?). New York called me back and I am now a much happier Yankee fan living in Brooklyn where I can proudly wear my Yankee hat and stare down anyone I see wearing a Red Sox one.

Well, I can surely say New York is glad to have you back! Great post thag00se!