Bumper to Bumper

Stuck in endless traffic on the way home and counting the minutes until the martini was in my hand, in the endless bumper to bumper lurch I had a moment to consider one of the billboards I drive by.

There is the new advertisement for the Harley shop that will be opening on Newbury street, complete with the lurid and leering face of its owner (certainly a great advertisement for a motorcycles- MidLife Crisis? Drinking Problem? Buy something stupid!)and the ever amusing billboard for the 35 foot tall statue of the Virgin Mary in Winthrop (next to the worlds only Pope-o-meter).

My personal favorite, however, is a bit closer to home, a full-sized billboard advertising fireworks, which are not only illegal to buy in Massachusetts, but illegal to set off, except for professionals on holidays.

You can, however, buy them in NH and then set them off when you are drunk at 2a.m. in my parking lot.

There is a lot to love about the small city I live in, small intimate bistro's, hidden cafe's with live music and belgian beer, beautiful old factories being turned into lofts.

And of course there is the crime.

And the cops who love to hate everyone who lives here.
Just last week I was serenaded by a siren at 2:53 a.m. on a Tuesday, a very loud police siren that began going off (what I can only assume was) directly out my back window for at least a half hour. Being that this is the community it is, this may mean that;

a) a crazed serial killer crack-dealing baby shaking maniac has escaped and is in the area and looking for refuge and victims
b) it is tuesday night and the cops are trying to incite violence by waking everyone and pissing us all off
c) somebody is breaking into all the cars (including mine) parked in our "safe" parking lot, and instead of fighting the crime, the cops thought that perhaps by just leaving their siren on it would make them stop.

At 3:25 a.m. it went off, and suddenly it seemed so quiet, like 3:25 a.m. should. At that point, all you could do was hope that whatever made that siren go off for that long, they solved the problem and didn't just give up.

Oh, Boston. Oh North Shore. Between the Belgian beer and the sketchiness, it's probably best not to live here unless you have an excellent sense of humor and possibly a drinking problem. And if you do decide to live here, be sure you have very securely locking doors and wine available to you at all times. You'll need both.