For the past couple of years, it seems like every time I have something to do in Boston there is a Red Sox game. How can I tell? Well, there are mobs of middle class white people who don't know how to work the Charlie machine/figure out the T fare clothed in Red Sox gear.
Last night was a particularly choice example of taking public transportation (the D line of the green line) with Red Sox nation. At one stop, a gentleman with a Yankees cap got onto my car. He was constantly hounded by this obnoxious guy who either had some mental handicap, or was drunk, who sounded like Jon Lovitz. Yankee cap guy was much more patient than me. I felt like throttling the guy screaming, "Shut up about the friggin hat!" The Yankee hat guy grew up locally and spent a couple years living down in NYC (I learned since he had to defend his mere existence to my car).
I have never been so relieved when we got to the Fenway stop. Once we departed, a woman who is a NYC transplant struck up a nice conversation with Yankee cap guy. It was a nice denouement from the three town's worth asshattery he had to put up with.
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