In a nut shell...
Within the first week of my arrival in Boston, my mom
met this really nice couple who offered their home for her to stay in while I was moving in. She ended up giving them my number in case they ever
needed a house sitter or a dog walker, or something like that. So a week ago, the lady texted me
and asked if I was interested in helping them out with her
party in celebration of her graduation from Grad school. And I said yes, assuming it would be basic hosting, taking coats showing people where the bathroom was and crap like that.
So, when I got off the subway in their neighborhood, I
find the part of Boston that they live in to be the Bostonian equivalent of Richmond, CA, only 923
times sketchier (There were legitimate cocaine deals going down right
outside the T, and gang rivalries getting in each others faces next to the various liquor stores.) And when I
called her to tell her I was at the station, she made it very clear
for me to stay inside until her husband came to pick me up.
Then, I got to the party, and she
informed me that I would actually be serving drinks to everyone instead,
and so I spent the evening bartending. It was legit. I opened like, 5
bottles of wine all by myself. Made Napa Valley (and my wine industrial
father) proud. Then after their 8th tequila shot and 5th glass of Merlot, everyone was more or less wasted. So they called a taxi for me back to the subway station because they were
obviously incapable of driving, paid for my cab and gave me a hundred dollars
for three hours of work. (That's wazzup!!)
I luckily got on the last train out of Sketchytown, and
as I sat down, some guy in the corner, was like, "Ooh, I see thighs." (I was
wearing a dress) "I won't be able to stop staring at your legs until you
get off the train." So I glared at him for a solid ten seconds and
looked away. And then he started talking about some other woman on the
train who was filing her nails, and then asked if anyone would laugh if he started doing the
running man.
Then I transferred onto the Green Line, that was headed in the direction of my
dorm, and a guy with headphones sat down next to me. And these two
really drunk girls walked on. And they were super loud and obnoxious and
stupid, and about halfway through the ride, they're like, "Are weeeee
on the right train???" And they asked some dude if it was the right
train to Harvard Square, and he said no. So they started arguing and yelling, and then got
off. And then the guy next to me, looks at me, and says, "No, they were
on the right train, but this is gonna be a long night for them
regardless of the train they're on..."
Then I start talking to the guy next to me, and
he's telling me all about his life, living with his parents, going to
community college, aspiring musician, Etc. (He's like, 25) and after he's finished his memoir, he abruptly and awkwardly asks me if
I've heard any good music lately...Then he tells me he's on his way to
meet his friend, Dave. But he doesn't know why, because they just hang
out, and "he has other invites, but keeps going back to Dave for some reason, and doesn't know if Dave is expecting more". (This is
when I questioned whether he was gay or not. And decided he was.). Then we talked more,
and I was so caught up in the conversation, that I didn't hear the
driver tell us the train was going express to Washington St. Which is 8
miles north of where I needed to be.
So I get off at Washington St. say goodbye to my new friend, and wait for the last train going
back the way I came to campus. And after 20 minutes of standing in the rain, it finally comes,
and I sit across from this girl who keeps taking pictures of
herself with her flip phone. And after 15 minutes my stop comes up, and I have to beg
the driver to let me out. (By this time, It's like 1am.) And since
I'm charming and have charisma, he lets me out. And then some frat guys
try to get me to come to their party. And I say no. And then I slept like a baby.
It was the sketchiest night I've had in Boston thus far.
The End.
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