To Brendan, for believing I would blog again.
The death threats have started to come in because I have not only failed to blog in five months, but I have also failed to blog about one of the best days I have had in a long time. So, I am back and hopefully it will not be months before the next installment. But first a word about this piece. This blog was written over a very long period of time. Some parts were written the day after my experiences, other parts were written weeks later and some of it, very recently. I still believe the entire blog reflects the emotion of that day.
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Every once in a while there are days that serve as benchmarks for the rest of the bland, habitual, everyday days that fill the calendar throughout the year. The feeling of a particular day seems to frame our existence and give a unique perspective to the very particular day we call today. Some days are remembered as the worst days and we do anything and everything we can to prevent those kind of days from repeating.
Then there are these days:
Several weeks ago now, the 9th of November to be exact, I woke up expecting a certain kind of day. I expected to saw some logs and chop firewood, and when I finished that I would have been satisfied to catch up on the shows left on my TiVo or watch a movie. I wasn't expecting to hang out with anyone, Kevin had to work late and Brendan was supposed to house sit all day for the McWades while construction was being done on the house.
I woke up and came downstairs to find my grandfather deeply concentrating on his cryptoquote. So far, just an ordinary day. I boiled some water and made myself some oatmeal and french vanilla coffee, which I ate and drank while flipping through a magazine that was left on the kitchen table. So far, nothing exciting. Off to the shower. This is where I really start to wake up. I step out of the shower and throw on a towel, when my phone rings. It's Brendan, so I answer. He asks me if I want to go to a BU hockey game. "um...nahoh...well...um...yeah, why not...I've never been to a hockey game, so sure," I say. I almost said "no." Unbelievable. That phone call was the spark that set the rest of my day ablaze. He also needed to get some things at Wearguard, an outdoor/working gear outlet store, so we decide to meet up right away.
A few days prior I went to the Revolution soccer game in Foxboro and it was so cold that I could barely feel my feet. I was not sure what to expect for this sporting event, so I reasoned that ice is cold and a room that contains a giant block of it would probably take on the same property, so I dressed warmly. I layered. I layered my feet with two socks, I layered my chest with a thermal shirt, two shirts, a sweatshirt and a coat, I grabbed my Revolution hat, and when Brendan arrived, I was ready for anything. At least anything cold, that is.
We set out for Wearguard right away. That store is great. It is a small little outlet found in an office park and they always have too many people working the registers which has the upshot of no lines/no waiting and the down side of at least six bored little eyeballs that follow you around while you shop. It is still a great place and I usually go there at least once a year to pick up some of the warmest winter items that you can find around. There were a lot of sale items, so I was excited to zip around the little store. Brendan needed some pants and such for the job that he was about to start in the next few days. While browsing I came across a great brown leather belt and a sweet hat. I also bought a thermal undershirt since I didn't know if I would be going back before the winter really kicks in.
After Brendan and I made our purchases (no lines/no waiting), he asked what interested me for lunch. I told him that I did not care since I was not overly hungry, so Brendan decided on the place. He brought us to a small Italian eatery in Quincy called Gennaro's. This place was also great. It was small, cozy and recently renovated, with friendly servers typical of a small luncheonette. I was set to order a nice lasagna, when the specials were placed before us, handwritten on half of a sheet of wide-ruled white lined paper, clearly torn by hand. First on the list was a stuffed pepper on angel hair pasta with a breaded and fried rice ball which I believe is called an arancino. Yeah. That sounded delightfully delicious, so we both ordered it. It also tasted delightfully delicious. Not only was it amazing, it was also pretty cheap, only costing us $13 each.
So far, so good as far as days go. After lunch we headed back to Brendan's to relax, let our food settle and catch The Office and 30 Rock (which was DVRed). How gratifying. My stomach was full and I got to enjoy two of the funniest shows on TV. After we watched the hilarious shows, we headed off to Dedham to pick up Brendan's sister, Maureen and her boyfriend, Nevine. On our way to pick them up, we killed some time driving through a few different sections of Quincy, as well as a detour through a golf course where Brendan used to work. This golf course looked absolutely beautiful. If I had a camera it would be my desktop background right now. This was the perfect picturesque scene for New England. As we drove up through the golf course, we became immersed in the most beautiful fall scene. The leaves on the trees were red, yellow and tan scattered throughout a green blanket of grass hanging on to its final days before the winter paints the ground brown. The still water reflecting the surrounding scene in its calm black surface only served to multiply its beauty. Brendan mentioned that "this is how the other half lives." Yeah, it would be nice to have money. A quick drive though the grounds just couldn't compare to spending a few hours on the course even if one isn't especially skilled at golf.
When we arrived in Dedham, I explained my already amazing day to Brendan's sisters. I told them about my sweet hat purchase, tasty Gennaro's and the drive through the fall wonderland. Keep in mind that when I woke up the plan was to chop wood and finish the day as a couch potato, so just about anything different would have made the day better. After a few minutes of chatting, we headed to the hockey game with the intention of stopping to get something to eat before the game.
The tickets were given to Brendan by Kevin's aunt who obtained them from one of her clients. The tickets came with a parking pass so that we didn't have to look for parking in the city, so we drove to the Agganis Arena at BU. The VIP parking pass hung from Brendan's mirror as we drove up to the parking kiosk. Just as he approached I asked if he was going to just point to the pass. He was already planning on it. Pointing to a VIP parking pass is really the only way to go. It sends that subtle hint to the person in the kiosk that we do this all the time and highlights the Very Important Person aspect of the pass. It is a nice way of saying "there are pretty important people in this car and don't you forget it." I do mean an effective way of saying that, not necessarily a kind way. We drive up to the kiosk and Brendan points to the pass, but the woman extends her hand as if she was expecting to receive a ticket. "Oh, no," says Brendan as he sharply points to the hanging status symbol. "Yeah, I need it," the woman replied. "Oh...," Brendan says and pulls down the ticket to hand it over. She tore off the stub and gave back the top of the ticket. We were defeated. It shouldn't have happened like that. She knows now. She must know that we don't do this all the time. She knows we are phonies. After we drove away, I asked Brendan why he didn't say something like "they have never asked for the ticket before." A line like that would have saved us, and no one would have known we were fakes. I'm sure of it.
We parked and headed in the direction of the arena where we encountered a woman standing, checking tickets. Brendan flashed the handful of ours and the woman nodded and gestured toward an elevator. I whispered to Brendan, "remember, if anything happens say 'they never ... before.'" Leading up to the elevator doors was a red carpet, on which we stood waiting with a small group for the doors to open. When the doors opened a man in an official looking uniform was waiting inside. The outfit screamed, "No sir, you mustn't strain yourself pushing a button to indicate the floor to desire to be raised, allow me." We were given a second chance and learned our lesson from what happened earlier. We were calm, cool, like we have done this hundreds of times. No one in that elevator would know we were phonies.
Inertia jiggled our bodies with that familiar sensation as we rose in the elevator to the arena. On the other side of the doors, more red carpet, and a man with a scanner awaited to scan our tickets. Like sheep we each presented a ticket to be scanned and moved inward. Well, we were in the stadium, but that may not exactly have been the desired outcome at that moment in time. Brendan suspected that a scanned ticket would mean we were shut in until the end of the game, which would have been fine, but we had arrived an hour early with the intention of eating dinner before the game. Brendan asked an attendant and was told that no reentry was permitted. Imprisoned and hungry, concession food would have to do. We were doomed to eat hot dogs and cotton candy for dinner. Here's hoping they sell cotton candy. Let's first find our seats.
My ticket said section S106B, that's S as in seat 106B, row A, seat 1. But a strange thing happened when we circled the arena to find our seats. Brendan noticed that all along the arena were doors labeled with numbers very similar to the numbers on our tickets. 101,102,103, 104, 105, 106A, 106B. "I think we are in this room," said Brendan with a look that was part excitement and part disbelief in what he was about to confirm. He turned the knob on the door, unlocked, and swung it open. On the other side a small little room with 4 perfect seats, illuminated from heaven, with a perfect view of the rink below. Simultaneously we, the 4 of us, were all blown away by the realization: that's S as in SUITE 106B. We had seats in a personal suite. It had the 4 seats, a little fridge, a little sink, a menu with food to order, a place to hang coats. It was unbelievable. Suddenly those hot dogs didn't seem so bad if we could enjoy them in comfortable, secluded chairs in perfect view of the ice. After a round of saying "Oh, my God" and we collected our jaws from the ground, Maureen and Nevine left to scope out the available food in the area. About a minute later, they returned, and Maureen said that Nevine just noticed that our tickets said "Club Access."
Was it possible? Club Access? Yep. We had just been catapulted even further into an even more amazing experience. Hot dogs would no longer do. We scurried out of the suite and down the corridor to access the club to which our tickets entitled us. Our tickets were punched and we flowed into a gigantic room filled with tables and people enjoying meals. All along the back wall were buffet tables and carving stations. Pork loin sandwiches and fresh stir fry, salads and deserts. We grabbed plates with the look of overwhelming shock on our faces still as fresh as the salads laid out behind us.
I grabbed some pork and bread and stood together with Brendan, Maureen and Nevine. We were forced to stand because all the tables were taken, so we moved to a spot that was a little less in the way, over to one side of the room. We had left behind common people parking, common people seats, common people hot dogs and had, what felt like, bluffed our way to VIP parking, seats, and hot dogs (pork sandwiches, that is), so to stand and eat our meal didn't seem so bad. We all were grinning as we stood in a small circle, holding our plates with one hand and enjoying the delectable meal under our noses. We stood like that for a minute or two before the people at the table just to our right began to stir. Eight eyes sharply glanced to the movement with the eagerness of a predator honing in on weak prey. As the members of the table collected their belongings, our group poised, ready to snatch up the soon to be free table. The table was free for less than a moment before we surrounded it, perfectly coordinated, like wolves on fresh meat. One would have missed the change over from one group at the table to the next with a prolonged blink.
Now standing did seem so bad. We had it all now, and it was becoming the perfect experience. I was enjoying my pork sandwich, and I don't even like pork, but free pork just tastes so much better. Behind our table a man, probably a student, stood with the single job of handing out little bottles of Pepsi from an ice bucket. Naturally, we snatched a few of those up. It was delicious, and I don't even like Pepsi, but a free Pepsi just tastes so much better. Since we had a place to sit, relax and enjoy our meals, I decided, after I finished, that I would go back for seconds. This time around I tried the stir fry. Once again, it was delicious, with vegetables, beef and mushrooms, and I don't even like mushrooms. It certainly was "a wonderful restaurant." (A side note, here. Something else that helped to put this day over the top was the random sprinkling of Arrested Development quotes that popped up throughout the day. I don't remember any particular quotes or times that they were used, but I do know they were scattered evenly through the day.)
After the meal, it was back to our seats. You remember, the ones from heaven. They were as amazing to sit in as I had hoped. It was a perfect view of the ice, we didn't have to deal with fans' heads in our way, and I was wrong about a giant block of ice cooling down the arena. I had overdressed, it was a perfect temperature in our suite. I don't really follow hockey, which may seem like a waste for someone like me to have box seats, but I have to say even with virtually no knowledge of the sport, it looked impressive from where I was sitting. Brendan gave me a rundown of the basic rules of the game, and I was excited to take it all in. BU scored within the first minute. A sign that this would be a great game on top of it all. UMASS tied it up shortly after, then scored again. BU was able to tie it up, then UMASS pulled ahead once again, and ended the game with a shot in an open net as BU scrambled to try to tie again in the final seconds. It was an exciting game and remarkable how hard both sides played. I am not a real fan of either team, so seeing BU lose didn't really affect me at all, besides I was too busy enjoying the experience.
While the game was going on, a pretty young Asian woman, probably a student, came in to let us know that she would be our personal server while the game was being played. Her name was Jessica, she had a big smile and she was very friendly. She came in to check on us a few times, but because we had just eaten we had nothing to request. On the way home, we talked about how nice Jessica was and how much we wish we could have brought her home with us. Somehow getting into a car accident came up, so I said that if I got hurt I would do whatever it took to crawl out and I would say in a weak voice to the EMT, "Please, give this to Jessica she'll know what to do," while I handed him the ticket. The EMT would say, "Jessica Who?" to which I would reply, simply "Yeah, her."
I feel like I rushed through some important parts of the day, so it may seem like they weren't important, but everything that I mentioned here was a perfect memory. The day seemed to get exponentially better, each perfect experience followed by another kept stacking up precariously like a game of Jenga, each moment more satisfying than the one before it because the tower of delight never fell.
Days like that are special in a very specific way: they surprise us. They are the benchmark for the excitement and spontaneity that each day can contain. The everyday mundane can sometimes trick us into expecting the bland and uneventful. I think a day like that gives us hope that maybe, at any moment, what we expect will be shattered and we will be suddenly consumed by excitement and bliss. That kind of day brings the abstract idea of spontaneity into reality for a short period of time and links it with emotion that can be called upon like a crutch in times of crippling monotony. It has been nearly two months since that day and although I can recall each event of that day if I care to stop and recite them, it is the emotion of the day that I call up first. The feeling of excitement and surprise is more vivid and lasting than my memory of the score of the hockey game, and is the reason I will not soon forget the events associated with the euphoria of the day it took me so long to blog about.
