It's a beautiful day in Beantown, and I know it will be a beautiful evening. I text L: "Maybe we should go somewhere on the harbor?"
We agree on Temazcal and, after work, we take the Red Line to South Station. Looking back at the shiny glass of the Financial District, we walk along Fort Point Channel and then Fan Pier. We guessed all sports bars would be incredibly packed as tonight is Game Seven, but we didn't figure on the two hour wait for a table at Temazcal. We vote for the bar instead.
The bar at Temazcal is crowded, the doors are flung open to the harbor and the warm air, and the sky is so blue. I turn to L: "It doesn't feel like we're in Boston. It feels like we're in...." She says, "On vacation!" I was going to say California, but, yeah, she's got it right. Two chivalrous gentleman have given us their seats and we've got two potent cocktails. This is as close to vacation as we're getting on a weeknight.
We eat our flautas, guacamole, and tacos de pescado and, at right at 8pm, management turns the Bruins game on. I like hockey. I do. But it's incredibly loud. It's so loud that the bartenders are wincing.
We get the check. We think over our options: Drink. Or Rumba at the Intercontinental. We could waltz into O Ya and have a drink at the bar.
We settle on Les Zygomates. It's all jazz music and atmospheric votive candles. The last time we were here, we ordered a 1/2 bottle of champagne. Don't fix it if it ain't broke. The champagne arrives and we clink our glasses. There's a TV screen behind the bar, but the volume's off. It's pretty quiet until a cheer goes up: The Bruins score their third goal of the night, then their fourth.
With only a few minutes to go in the game, we settle up our bill and walk to South Station. I arrive at Park Station without incident, but the Green Line is dysfunctional -- the seats are dripping with beer and there's a vague announcement about delays due to crowds at North Station. I hedge my bets on a cab and head up the steps to the Common.
It's nuts -- crowds yelling ("Stanley Cup right here, baby!"), car horns beeping, cops standing guard on every corner. I'm lucky to get a cab. And, you know what, it's fun to roll through town with the windows down. I think of an October, not too many years ago, when the Red Sox were down three games to the Yankees and came back from the dead to win the ALCS. That was my first October in Boston -- a hell of an introduction.
Boston loves when the underdog wins. And that's when you realize when Boston is not so big of a city.
Tonight, the city is united.