Last weekend I moved to Boston with my girlfriend and it was potentially the worst day of my life.
Moving in general is horrific. But you need to consider how many bad days I’ve had for this to be a contender. I was hung over from 2006-2010 and I’ve bombed a lot of magic tricks so when I tell you it was bad, it was bad. Maybe I’ll do a ‘top 10’ someday so we can get nostalgic about those times we were homicidal or suicidal. Just cry a little about it and then have a soak.
I won’t go into every little thing that went wrong Sunday because it won’t capture the shittiness of the 24 hour ordeal and it’s not funny at all. But I want you to close your eyes to imagine it all. Well, don’t really close them because you need to keep reading but you get it. Close them whenever you want. I don’t fucking care. Just close them when you’re ready.
It was Dot Day.
Dot Day is when Dorchester Avenue celebrates the crime rate of Dorchester with a parade. Just kidding. They celebrate something and I’m sure it’s very patriotic and quite a spectacle. I envision it’s like Southie’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade but with less booze and more minorities. Unbeknownst to me, Columbia Avenue gets shut down on this day so our UHAUL coming straight from Maine had nowhere to go. This was honestly just 1/10th of all that went wrong with Sunday but let’s flash forward to 10 PM when I decide it’s a good idea to bring the UHAUL to the new place because the roads are clear and it’s quiet.
It’s a one-way street and cars are PAHKED on both sides of the road. It’s pouring rain because it’s a top 10 shit-day. Go to pull the UHAUL in the driveway but, well, it’s a little difficult to come in head-on because there are cars on both sides of the street and some evil person parked in front of a fire hydrant directly across. There’s a fence on both sides of the driveway so it’s tight even for your normal-sized cars. Anyways, my girlfriend attempts two or three times to squeeze in but with no success. Because I think I can defy the laws of geometry, I give it a shot. I go into the fence and get lodged in like a fat guy on Spirit Airlines. It’s a high-fence so it makes sure it leaves a mark in the truck. Cars are coming down the street so she’s out in the road waving cars by but they can barely fit through. This wasn’t even the bad part.
The bad part were evil neighbors.
When it became apparent that we were not getting the UHAUL in the driveway, it turned into some sort of Dorchester showcase. Our new Boston neighbors just began to come out of their homes and watch.
No help offered.
No “IS EVERYTHIN OK OVAH THEY-A?!”
What kind of savage just sits on his/her porch and watches two new residents struggle to survive? The Dot Savage, that’s fucking who. And because WE have dignity, we aborted the driveway mission and just started to unpack a filled UHAUL truck with the ass of the truck sitting in the street. Furiously we moved, running back and forth hauling boxes like it was some sort of lightning fast drug-trafficking operation. I’m not exaggerating when I say we got most of the stuff out in 7 minutes. The neighbors were still watching– of course– and one even slowly smoked a cigarette as if to say, boy this is a real clinic you’re putting on magic boy.
My girlfriend is from California and has heard the myth of the Masshole, so these neighbors were really helping to break down stereotypes. Just a bunch of people who have lived there for 100 years wondering who this new magician thought he was driving a big-ass truck around after dark. Classic Boston that you have to earn the right to be helped out in a jam. There’s a period of loyalty that you have to demonstrate before you’re truly one of the NAY-BAHS. This was true in “The Departed” and apparently true on the streets of Savin Hill. We are 5 days in and I think we only have five thousand to go before we’re invited to a barbecue.
I do think a neighborhood hot tub would solve pretty much all of these issues but I’m really not sure I’m ready to host myself.