We want Santa Claus back. Immediately. The Democratic National Convention has arrived.
My friend, The Boston Blogger, works for CNN and is in town from Atlanta for a week covering the convention. He will sit in a sweaty editing truck for 18 hours a day outside the Fleet Center before returning to the North End to haunt my couch. I’d forgotten all about the convention, and when he called last night to say he’d arrived in Boston I briefly panicked – it’s on.
I walk to work everyday, nearly clear across Boston proper from the North End to Copley and back again. During my pilrimage this morning, I saw a number of things that snapped me back into reality and reminded me what the next week is going to be like for urban dwellers. You know the DNC is in town when:
1. The Boston Globe has people giving away today’s edition for free all over the city as if it were The Metro. Fish markets everywhere rejoice.
2. There are college kids spreading 900 pairs of empty Army boots across the steps of Government Center, tagged with soldier names under the title “An artistic Representation of the Costs of the Iraq War”. Subtle, guys. I don’t suppose those boots would have been of more use to Boston’s homeless? Paging Dr. Shoals.
3. Boston’s homeless are surprisingly absent, while we’re on the subject. Usually converging on Boston Common near Park Street, none of my favorite characters were in residence this morning. Not Slow Motion Man, not Kris Kristofferson, not Stinkles – none of the folks I’ve come to know, give demeaning nicknames, and love were to be seen. This is amazing. Have they been bribed and shipped to Nahaunt? Will anyone in Nahaunt notice?
4. Hari Hari. Krishnas on the Common. Whacking drums and chanting about unconditional peace – straight out of Airplane. “Don’t you tell me which zone is for loading, and which zone is for unloading.” “Look Betty, don’t start up with your white zone shit again.”
5. The Freedom Trail gets a facelift. And has been extended to run the length of the Boston Common’s Tremont St. pavement. And is fuggin’ ugly. I tiptoed around the cones surrounding the wet paint on my way through and immediately thought of Jamaican beer. Attention Boston public works: “Jamaican me crazy!”
This topic isn’t deceased – not by a longshot. I am going to strive to keep this blog apolitical, but it’s going to be difficult for the next week. Great Kerry’s Botox, it’s going to be difficult.