from July 2, 2008
(A recap of Part One is unnecessary as I’ll be using the same worn out jokes in Part Two. See if you can spot the same three tired gags in the next line.)
As I boarded the Boston Duck Tour boat/bus, all 34 kids were undigested, Liz was sitting to to my left, Maria was keeping the rain away, God was in his dominion, and all was right with the world.
Unfortunately there was a lot wrong with our driver.
A tour duck driver is a special breed. One must be able to tell the history of Boston, entertain the passengers, and get them to quack at random passersby, all while driving a boat through narrow streets. Yes, a boat.
A duck is a boat with wheels which drives through the streets of Boston then plunges, rollercoaster-like, into the Charles river, where it plays chicken with guys on sailboards and reckless boaters.
Our duck driver was an allleged ex-military guy who also bowled on ESPN 2 back in “the day” and had the old shoes hanging from the rearview mirror to prove it. He also wore a bowling shirt and if I needed any more confirmation that the guy was nuts, there it was.
The boat/bus took off and he went into his spiel. “This is where so and so started the Revolution,” “Blankity blank built a clock there,” etc. But it became aparant to us that once he realized that the kids had no clue what he was talkng about (the language problem, coupled with the fact that they were not really the products of the American educational system so they knew nothing about our history. But then again American kids don’t know American history, so it’s a wash.) he went off the rails. Here’s what I learned from the duck tour:
– Everything that we were told happened in Philadelphia happened in Boston, including the season that the Eagles won the Super Bowl.
– Our driver didn’t know his India from his Pakistan. Normally not a problem in most cases, but we had some Pakistani kids on the boat/bus who didn’t take lightly to the interchangeable way he used the two countries.
– The driver toured extensively through the Middle East, including Yemen on multiple occassions.
– Our driver was looking for love, or married, or single, or engaged, or going through a nasty divorce depending on which story he was lying about.
– He also invented Tang and flew the space shuttle last week.
– I believe he shot Hitler in the balls during WWII.
– He also pointed out his dentist’s office.
So he was going on and on with a boat/busload of kids who had no clue what he was talking about, and three English teachers in the back laughing at him, when he asks the kids what they want to do when they get older. Silence. So I got that ballsy feeling again (must be due to being next to Liz, all the blood rushing to my testicles) and when he asked again “what do you want to be when you get older?”, I shouted out “Duck Tour driver!”
Didn’t rattle him. He went on about what it takes to be a boat/bus driver (a whole lot of BS if you ask me) and nothing fazed him, even when one of the kids took the wheel of the boat/bus and nearly drove us into a bridge.
Well, we evntually made it safely, if not totally sanely (on his part) to the end of the tour and got back on our bus (again on the bus. We were always on the bus.) This time we headed back to Faniel Hall for lunch. There are many good restaurants and places to eat there. Durgin Park is famous for steak, for example. So where did the kids eat? McDonald’s. C’mon, what did you expect? Personally, I was disappointed that I didn’t go with them just to see them try to rearrange the tables there- they’re bolted down! I can just imagine the beads of sweat, the frustration, the bolt cutters, as they tried in vain to move the furniture into some other, undoubtedly better, configuration.
Well, I had my heart set on Durgin Park, You can’t go to Boston and skip one of the country’s premiere steak houses. But that’s what I did. Oh sure, I looked at the menu. Yes, I stood in the lobby, Indeed, I drooled over the cuts of beef in the window, but in the end we left. Maria was dead-set on clam chowder, we probably didn’t have enough time for a place like Durgin Park, and in truth it was too expensive for our lunch. So I was there, I smelled it, I even took some pictures of it, but it was like kissing your sister- unsatisfying, and then downright uncomfortable when she slips you the tongue.
Here I must pause and warn all the parents to send their little children out of the room. This is the “adult” part of the story. Our little foursome went to a rough joint and we all got crabs. In fact, both Maria and Liz gave me crabs. This is where the truth came out- that Maria is cheap and easy and Liz loves viagra. (What’s that you’re saying? You already knew that about Maria? Pardon me. You must have spent some time in the book room with her.) And I took pictures.
After dragging me away from Durgin Park, we went over to a place called Dick’s Last Resort. Perfect. We went up to the hostess and she said “what do you want?’ We asked about the food and she looked at us like we were nuts and said “what the hell do you think this place is?” Liz immediately recognized her as the “Boston Kathy.” This was fun. The waiters abused us. They yelled at us and insulted us. They made Maria wear a hat made out of a paper bag that said “cheap and easy” and tied a balloon in Liz’s hair that said “I love viagra.” What was even funnier is the fact that Liz thought it said “I love vagina.” We were seated outside and when it started to rain and moved inside, we were yelled at some more. Everyone was yelled at. Needed a wet-nap? They threw it at you.
So I ordered the ribs and wings bucket, and Liz and Maria got the crabs, which they shared with me. (All three of us are washing with special ointments tonight.) Ray had the biggest corona I ever saw and was only disappointed that he couldn’t have three or four more. Liz, as if you didn’t know, was on my left.
And since this is in the adult section, I’d like to mention that Liz was complaining of her ass getting bruised. Seriously. She had to sit on a pillow on the bus. Honestly, I tried my best not to hurt her. (You know the only thing better than writing this? Knowing that Liz is reading this.)
We got back on the bus (again!) and had to chase some kids out of our seats because the bathroom in the back started to stink and no one wanted to sit near it. Can’t blame them.
Now it was time to ride for another 40 minutes to Harvard. It was overcast but Maria was doing her best to keep the rain at bay. Liz was again to my left, the kids were still, for now, uneaten, the end of the world was not yet near, and we were off to Cambridge. We were also just plain off.
TO BE CONTINUED
PART THREE HERE
Mr. Blog's Tepid Ride 
I think I had the same driver when I did the Duck Tour. He had a paramilitary uniform and said in a Bahston accent:
I am the Sarge
I’m in charge
I drive the barge.
The rest required translation skills that were beyond us.
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