Greetings from New England, Pt II: The Reckoning
Day Two:
Our first full day in the city and, in keeping with the traditions of our female bloodline, the plan was to go shopping. Before that, however, a word on Boston drivers.
The term "Massholes" is fully deserved, believe me. Actually, "Massuicidal maniacs" is a lot closer to the truth. Aiy-yi-yi. Appalling. Streets that in Denver would be widely regarded as two lane, in Boston are split into 4 or even 6 lanes at the whim of individual drivers. Leaving more than a few inches between cars is an open invitation to cut in. There are dozens of close calls and harrowing near misses in the space of only a few miles, and downright miraculous there aren't more accidents. It is more like the ebb and flow of a river than a road with defined lanes. Traffic lights are treated, in Tery's words, as if they're saying, "Eh...if ya got the time, it'd be nice if ya stopped." You can count on someone honking at you if you aren't in motion 30 seconds before the light turns green. Ironically the streets are crawling with cops, who Amy informs us only act if you are guilty of several blatant, repeated moving violations in a row. I'm a fairly aggressive driver (as my longtime readers can attest) and I had to just close my eyes and hope for the best.
We parked and walked to Harvard Square, where we amused ourselves for far too long making fun of the local accents: "I pahhhked the cahhh in the gahrahhhge behind Hahhhvahhd Square." Yeah, real original, I know. Amy took us to a mini-shopping mall that specialized in goth stores and tattoo parlors. The jewel in the crown of this strip was Newbury Comics. If Hot Topic is my favorite store in the world, Newbury Comics is my favorite store in the universe. I used to spend an obscene amount of money when we lived right down the street from one in Rhode Island. It shares a lot of the same merchandise, plus an enormous selection of CDs and DVDs, new and used, books, magazines, accessories, toys, clothing. Sadly I had to restrain myself from filling another suitcase full of purchases, but couldn't resist a black-and-white pirate Devil Duckie, a Rosie the Riveter card that says "Chicks Kick Ass" (I love the button version I got from a friend), and a magnet that most certainly will make an appearance later as an icon, I'll save it as a surprise. Of course for everything I got there were 5 other things I didn't, including a black and white t-shirt that read, "Do I look like a fucking people person??" and a retro orange one with a clip art version of Jesus' head that read, "Jesus has my back" (I loved that one, I don't know why). There was Nightmare Before Christmas stuff everywhere, and several different Eric Draven dolls. I took video of a plush "Humpty" dog that actually worked itself realistically and noisily to climax. We started wrapping it up after about an hour. Amy kept asking if I was sure I was ready to leave, and I kept explaining I would happily spend the rest of the week there so there really was no good time to go. I'll post pics when I get home.
From Hahhhvahd Square we went to the Museum of Science to watch a flick at the OmniMax theater. This was incredible. For an idea of how incredible, I have two words: Imax, Shmimax. It was like Imax, except the film covers from mid ceiling to floor of a dome, so it was a full 180 degrees of viewing space. It was the closest thing you could get to virtual reality goggles without looking unforgivably dorky. The seats are so sharply stacked that just climbing up to them gives you vertigo. We saw "Mystery of the Nile," an hour-long documentary about an attempt to ride the entire 3000-mile length of the Nile in rafts and kayaks. The opening shots of the movie are breathtaking, taken from a plane skimming over the title character. I scoffed at the pre-show warnings about motion sickness, but I sure as hell was feeling it when the plane started banking sharply around the curves. The danger with these movies is once you get over the jaw-dropping scenery and being amazed by the medium, you need some kind of story to fall back on. "Nile" wasn't too bad, except it had a maddening way of building up tension only to abandon the anecdote without resolving it. For example: Gordon, their kayak expert, suddenly finds himself waylaid on all sides by deadly crocs. The voiceover points out that if the biggest one whose head he was smacking with the paddle got ahold of his arm, it could easily pull and hold him under while the rest of them moved in and he'd be a goner. Scary indeed. But then the scene gently transitions away and suddenly the threat is over. No explanation about how he got out of it, basically no money shot. Later two of the guys decide to try to cross a 10-mile stretch in the middle of the night to make up lost time when a huge storm blows up from nowhere. We see them caught in the gale, battling enormous waves with rain battering their faces. Next thing we know, it's the following morning and everything's fine. What the...? The obvious answer is that the film crew or some kind of support team dropped the camera and saved them, but as anticlimactic as that would be, it would be far less jarring for the viewer. Editing 101? Anyone?
From there we stopped for dinner and then onto Revenge of the Sith. Tery of course would rather talk with my mother about prospective needlepoint projects than sit through a single Star Wars movie ever, so we dropped her off at the Cask & Flagon, a bar close enough to Fenway to smell the popcorn in the downdraft. And now, for my moviegoing public:
Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith
On my sister's instruction, I had to re-rent Episode II because I had absolutely no memory of watching it the first time. As a little mini-review, it wasn't much more memorable the second time, but I at least got back on track with the intricate political subplots Lucas seems to think the 12-year-olds enjoy so much. I realized why it probably didn't make much impression on me...because there are no Wookiees in it at all, and Chewie is by far my favorite character in any of them.
Even though Star Wars has been a presence in my life far longer as a franchise, I was far more emotional about the Lord of the Rings saga ending. Perhaps because it felt like Georgie was smoking some serious doobage while making the last (first) two, that's how pointless and incomprehensible they were to me. That being said, this one was definitely better than those two, which I guess isn't saying a whole lot. Hayden Christiensen, total eye candy baby, and really good at looking angry/betrayed/disturbed (hard to tell the difference since his expression never changed once through the entire film. He learned from the "if a look works, stick with it" school of acting), but his line delivery was still hopelessly wooden and flat. In all fairness, Lucas' dialogue doesn't give him a lot to work with. The scenes with Natalie Portman played like a prepubescent fanboy's idea of what romance should be. The action and effects were fantastic, and Wookiees!!!!! Hooray! I'd love them to get their own spin-off series, love to see how Chewie met Han Solo. For now I had to be content with watching him carry Yoda to safety. *sigh* Chewie definitely aged the best of all the original cast.
It did take some of the tension out of the fight scenes when you keep in mind that you know so-and-so is in Episode IV. But I was anxious to see how Anakin gets so fucked up he needs a permanent life-support suit. I did think it did an excellent job of tying the two trilogies together. And I LOVED especially the brief glimpse of the very authentic Peter Cushing lookalike as Grand Moff Tarkin in the last scene. That was a stroke of brilliance right there. I finally felt like Ewan was settling into the role and not just playing Alec Guinness, perhaps a little too late. Generally a very satisfying conclusion...to the middle of the series.
3.5 out of 5, but I still think "Empire" is the best.
Of course, there's no escaping the assholes. Amy and I got there really early and found excellent seats right in the upper middle section. I got up for one last potty break, just long enough for two guys to show up and sit in the seats directly behind us. When I came back the guy behind me had his big meaty foot up right on the top of my chair back, which I honestly tried really, really hard to ignore, despite it literally being an inch from my head. But of course he couldn't be happy with that level of intrusiveness. He had to start rocking it back and forth, shaking his leg, vibrating my entire seat. I decided to nip this in the bud, turning around and politely (I thought, though Amy heard it differently apparently) asking him to please not kick my chair. He looked at me dully, having to tilt his head sideways to make eye contact around his huge hoof. "Sure," he said civilly, and I thanked him, but he didn't move his fucking foot an inch from its perch. I gave it a few minutes but when still nothing changed, I decided my choice was to admit defeat and move, or spend the entire movie wanting to punch him in the face. I chose the first option and moved us a few rows down and on the outside. I didn't give the slightest glance in his direction to see what, if any, reaction he had. The theater turned out to be packed and I can't help wondering if someone else was forced to deal with his attitude or if he learned some manners from me. Nice to know inconsideration is universal.
Later this altercation was the source of my first little squabble with my sister. She thinks my request was made much more snottily than I imagined it. She maintained that since I was gone, to him the seat was empty and he was within his rights. I pointed out that once I returned and it quickly became apparent that it WASN'T empty, a decent human being would find somewhere else to put their hamhock. The root of the problem was she thought I took too long to let it go since I repeated the story to Tery later. I explained that I DO eventually let things go, when my rant has run its course. And now that I've posted the story, I really, truly am done with it.
Coming soon: Day Three
Our first full day in the city and, in keeping with the traditions of our female bloodline, the plan was to go shopping. Before that, however, a word on Boston drivers.
The term "Massholes" is fully deserved, believe me. Actually, "Massuicidal maniacs" is a lot closer to the truth. Aiy-yi-yi. Appalling. Streets that in Denver would be widely regarded as two lane, in Boston are split into 4 or even 6 lanes at the whim of individual drivers. Leaving more than a few inches between cars is an open invitation to cut in. There are dozens of close calls and harrowing near misses in the space of only a few miles, and downright miraculous there aren't more accidents. It is more like the ebb and flow of a river than a road with defined lanes. Traffic lights are treated, in Tery's words, as if they're saying, "Eh...if ya got the time, it'd be nice if ya stopped." You can count on someone honking at you if you aren't in motion 30 seconds before the light turns green. Ironically the streets are crawling with cops, who Amy informs us only act if you are guilty of several blatant, repeated moving violations in a row. I'm a fairly aggressive driver (as my longtime readers can attest) and I had to just close my eyes and hope for the best.
We parked and walked to Harvard Square, where we amused ourselves for far too long making fun of the local accents: "I pahhhked the cahhh in the gahrahhhge behind Hahhhvahhd Square." Yeah, real original, I know. Amy took us to a mini-shopping mall that specialized in goth stores and tattoo parlors. The jewel in the crown of this strip was Newbury Comics. If Hot Topic is my favorite store in the world, Newbury Comics is my favorite store in the universe. I used to spend an obscene amount of money when we lived right down the street from one in Rhode Island. It shares a lot of the same merchandise, plus an enormous selection of CDs and DVDs, new and used, books, magazines, accessories, toys, clothing. Sadly I had to restrain myself from filling another suitcase full of purchases, but couldn't resist a black-and-white pirate Devil Duckie, a Rosie the Riveter card that says "Chicks Kick Ass" (I love the button version I got from a friend), and a magnet that most certainly will make an appearance later as an icon, I'll save it as a surprise. Of course for everything I got there were 5 other things I didn't, including a black and white t-shirt that read, "Do I look like a fucking people person??" and a retro orange one with a clip art version of Jesus' head that read, "Jesus has my back" (I loved that one, I don't know why). There was Nightmare Before Christmas stuff everywhere, and several different Eric Draven dolls. I took video of a plush "Humpty" dog that actually worked itself realistically and noisily to climax. We started wrapping it up after about an hour. Amy kept asking if I was sure I was ready to leave, and I kept explaining I would happily spend the rest of the week there so there really was no good time to go. I'll post pics when I get home.
From Hahhhvahd Square we went to the Museum of Science to watch a flick at the OmniMax theater. This was incredible. For an idea of how incredible, I have two words: Imax, Shmimax. It was like Imax, except the film covers from mid ceiling to floor of a dome, so it was a full 180 degrees of viewing space. It was the closest thing you could get to virtual reality goggles without looking unforgivably dorky. The seats are so sharply stacked that just climbing up to them gives you vertigo. We saw "Mystery of the Nile," an hour-long documentary about an attempt to ride the entire 3000-mile length of the Nile in rafts and kayaks. The opening shots of the movie are breathtaking, taken from a plane skimming over the title character. I scoffed at the pre-show warnings about motion sickness, but I sure as hell was feeling it when the plane started banking sharply around the curves. The danger with these movies is once you get over the jaw-dropping scenery and being amazed by the medium, you need some kind of story to fall back on. "Nile" wasn't too bad, except it had a maddening way of building up tension only to abandon the anecdote without resolving it. For example: Gordon, their kayak expert, suddenly finds himself waylaid on all sides by deadly crocs. The voiceover points out that if the biggest one whose head he was smacking with the paddle got ahold of his arm, it could easily pull and hold him under while the rest of them moved in and he'd be a goner. Scary indeed. But then the scene gently transitions away and suddenly the threat is over. No explanation about how he got out of it, basically no money shot. Later two of the guys decide to try to cross a 10-mile stretch in the middle of the night to make up lost time when a huge storm blows up from nowhere. We see them caught in the gale, battling enormous waves with rain battering their faces. Next thing we know, it's the following morning and everything's fine. What the...? The obvious answer is that the film crew or some kind of support team dropped the camera and saved them, but as anticlimactic as that would be, it would be far less jarring for the viewer. Editing 101? Anyone?
From there we stopped for dinner and then onto Revenge of the Sith. Tery of course would rather talk with my mother about prospective needlepoint projects than sit through a single Star Wars movie ever, so we dropped her off at the Cask & Flagon, a bar close enough to Fenway to smell the popcorn in the downdraft. And now, for my moviegoing public:
Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith
On my sister's instruction, I had to re-rent Episode II because I had absolutely no memory of watching it the first time. As a little mini-review, it wasn't much more memorable the second time, but I at least got back on track with the intricate political subplots Lucas seems to think the 12-year-olds enjoy so much. I realized why it probably didn't make much impression on me...because there are no Wookiees in it at all, and Chewie is by far my favorite character in any of them.
Even though Star Wars has been a presence in my life far longer as a franchise, I was far more emotional about the Lord of the Rings saga ending. Perhaps because it felt like Georgie was smoking some serious doobage while making the last (first) two, that's how pointless and incomprehensible they were to me. That being said, this one was definitely better than those two, which I guess isn't saying a whole lot. Hayden Christiensen, total eye candy baby, and really good at looking angry/betrayed/disturbed (hard to tell the difference since his expression never changed once through the entire film. He learned from the "if a look works, stick with it" school of acting), but his line delivery was still hopelessly wooden and flat. In all fairness, Lucas' dialogue doesn't give him a lot to work with. The scenes with Natalie Portman played like a prepubescent fanboy's idea of what romance should be. The action and effects were fantastic, and Wookiees!!!!! Hooray! I'd love them to get their own spin-off series, love to see how Chewie met Han Solo. For now I had to be content with watching him carry Yoda to safety. *sigh* Chewie definitely aged the best of all the original cast.
It did take some of the tension out of the fight scenes when you keep in mind that you know so-and-so is in Episode IV. But I was anxious to see how Anakin gets so fucked up he needs a permanent life-support suit. I did think it did an excellent job of tying the two trilogies together. And I LOVED especially the brief glimpse of the very authentic Peter Cushing lookalike as Grand Moff Tarkin in the last scene. That was a stroke of brilliance right there. I finally felt like Ewan was settling into the role and not just playing Alec Guinness, perhaps a little too late. Generally a very satisfying conclusion...to the middle of the series.
3.5 out of 5, but I still think "Empire" is the best.
Of course, there's no escaping the assholes. Amy and I got there really early and found excellent seats right in the upper middle section. I got up for one last potty break, just long enough for two guys to show up and sit in the seats directly behind us. When I came back the guy behind me had his big meaty foot up right on the top of my chair back, which I honestly tried really, really hard to ignore, despite it literally being an inch from my head. But of course he couldn't be happy with that level of intrusiveness. He had to start rocking it back and forth, shaking his leg, vibrating my entire seat. I decided to nip this in the bud, turning around and politely (I thought, though Amy heard it differently apparently) asking him to please not kick my chair. He looked at me dully, having to tilt his head sideways to make eye contact around his huge hoof. "Sure," he said civilly, and I thanked him, but he didn't move his fucking foot an inch from its perch. I gave it a few minutes but when still nothing changed, I decided my choice was to admit defeat and move, or spend the entire movie wanting to punch him in the face. I chose the first option and moved us a few rows down and on the outside. I didn't give the slightest glance in his direction to see what, if any, reaction he had. The theater turned out to be packed and I can't help wondering if someone else was forced to deal with his attitude or if he learned some manners from me. Nice to know inconsideration is universal.
Later this altercation was the source of my first little squabble with my sister. She thinks my request was made much more snottily than I imagined it. She maintained that since I was gone, to him the seat was empty and he was within his rights. I pointed out that once I returned and it quickly became apparent that it WASN'T empty, a decent human being would find somewhere else to put their hamhock. The root of the problem was she thought I took too long to let it go since I repeated the story to Tery later. I explained that I DO eventually let things go, when my rant has run its course. And now that I've posted the story, I really, truly am done with it.
Coming soon: Day Three