OH MISTER REVERE
For those of you who hoped I would post more about my day job... this may not be what you'd hoped. I am so sorry.
The other day on the Square, I was in street clothes selling tickets. To this I added a brown trilby with the brim mashed down in front to make it into a half-assed fedora and keep the sun out of my eyes. There was a busking drummer with a full set of steel drums, snares, foot pedal bass drum, etc. who had set up shop in the Pit and was painfully loud, and our guides for the day were going crazy. They have to shout our slogans and sell tickets to people outside the subway entrance, and this was even less easy than usual because no one could hear them over the goddamn drummer.
Guides kept crossing the street to hide out behind the ticket booth with me, saying, "I'm sorry, I just need a break from that jackass." Eventually this conversation happened.
Guide 1: [complains about over-used jokes]
Me: Oh, that reminds me of when I worked for the trolley company. There was this one boilerplate joke that everybody had to make when they passed the Granary Burying Ground, because it's across the street from the Beantown Pub, which is a tourist trap. So you say, "This is the only place in the city where you can drink a cold Sam Adams while looking at a cold Sam Adams."
Everybody: Har, har, har. I slap my thigh. 1950 called and they want their joke back. Ba-dum-ptish.
Guide 2: That actually reminds me of something horrible about the Granary Burying Ground. Do you know the thing with Paul Revere's grave?
Me: What, that people leave pennies on it, and pebbles, and so on?
Guide 2: Not exa-a-actly... I was told that Freedom Trail interpreters like to use Paul Revere's grave for a quick one.
Guide 1: A quick what? OH. Listen, my children, and you shall hear/ Of the midnight ride of Paul-- Paul-- Reve--he--heeee--heeeeEEEEreee!!!!! Oh my God! OHHH!
Me: Do you mean to tell me that historical tour guides bonk on Paul Revere's grave?
Guide 2: Yeah, pretty much.
Me: Who told you that? Was it Callum? [NB: veteran tour guide, known as a braggart and mostly-functional nutjob.]
Guide 2: It was.
Guide 1: OK, so we know at least one guide who has come on Paul Revere's grave, and it's Callum. I wonder if anyone else was there at the time.
Guide 2: I tend to walk wide around the grave when I bring tourists in there.
Me: You should probably know that the new girl with our company said the other day that she was in a high school play about Paul Revere from the point of view of his horse. And she specifically said that there was this awkward thing where it was like the horse had a crush on him. So the weird fetish for Paul Revere is a society-wide problem.
Guides 1 and 2: *sexualized whinnying* *obligatory Equus-themed jokes*
Me: "Oh, Mister Revere! Wrap your well-muscled thighs around my heaving flanks and ride me all the way to Lexington!"
[And then I noticed there was a woman behind me trying to buy tickets, and she either hadn't heard a thing or was gracious enough to pretend as much. For now, ~The End~ and that's quite enough of that.]
The other day on the Square, I was in street clothes selling tickets. To this I added a brown trilby with the brim mashed down in front to make it into a half-assed fedora and keep the sun out of my eyes. There was a busking drummer with a full set of steel drums, snares, foot pedal bass drum, etc. who had set up shop in the Pit and was painfully loud, and our guides for the day were going crazy. They have to shout our slogans and sell tickets to people outside the subway entrance, and this was even less easy than usual because no one could hear them over the goddamn drummer.
Guides kept crossing the street to hide out behind the ticket booth with me, saying, "I'm sorry, I just need a break from that jackass." Eventually this conversation happened.
Guide 1: [complains about over-used jokes]
Me: Oh, that reminds me of when I worked for the trolley company. There was this one boilerplate joke that everybody had to make when they passed the Granary Burying Ground, because it's across the street from the Beantown Pub, which is a tourist trap. So you say, "This is the only place in the city where you can drink a cold Sam Adams while looking at a cold Sam Adams."
Everybody: Har, har, har. I slap my thigh. 1950 called and they want their joke back. Ba-dum-ptish.
Guide 2: That actually reminds me of something horrible about the Granary Burying Ground. Do you know the thing with Paul Revere's grave?
Me: What, that people leave pennies on it, and pebbles, and so on?
Guide 2: Not exa-a-actly... I was told that Freedom Trail interpreters like to use Paul Revere's grave for a quick one.
Guide 1: A quick what? OH. Listen, my children, and you shall hear/ Of the midnight ride of Paul-- Paul-- Reve--he--heeee--heeeeEEEEreee!!!!! Oh my God! OHHH!
Me: Do you mean to tell me that historical tour guides bonk on Paul Revere's grave?
Guide 2: Yeah, pretty much.
Me: Who told you that? Was it Callum? [NB: veteran tour guide, known as a braggart and mostly-functional nutjob.]
Guide 2: It was.
Guide 1: OK, so we know at least one guide who has come on Paul Revere's grave, and it's Callum. I wonder if anyone else was there at the time.
Guide 2: I tend to walk wide around the grave when I bring tourists in there.
Me: You should probably know that the new girl with our company said the other day that she was in a high school play about Paul Revere from the point of view of his horse. And she specifically said that there was this awkward thing where it was like the horse had a crush on him. So the weird fetish for Paul Revere is a society-wide problem.
Guides 1 and 2: *sexualized whinnying* *obligatory Equus-themed jokes*
Me: "Oh, Mister Revere! Wrap your well-muscled thighs around my heaving flanks and ride me all the way to Lexington!"
[And then I noticed there was a woman behind me trying to buy tickets, and she either hadn't heard a thing or was gracious enough to pretend as much. For now, ~The End~ and that's quite enough of that.]