"Will you be my Lois Lane?"

Some guy in a Superman costume asked me to be his Lois Lane today. I declined telling him that I was more of a Batman girl to which he replied, "Girl, Batman will only break your heart, come with me and we can go to Krypton and I'll love you forever." Basically, I crossed at the first corner I could find. My first week in Boston has already taught me how to be a big girl. Aside from having creepy ex-prison convicts take my picture with their circa 2002 cell phones that have been recycled already by dozens of people, most of the people on the subway just wanna get to the damn Red Sox game. Who can blame them? There really is a different atmosphere down Yawkey Way. Its like no matter how you are feeling, if you get off at Kenmore station, EVERYBODY is smiling at you because it is so damn gorgeous out and you can smell the grills firing up and the beer on the breath of all the middle-aged men who stomp past with their wives/live in girlfriends/kids on leashes in tow. Riding the T back to my station is an experience in itself. The first thing I see when I get onto Newbury Street everyday is rows and rows of paintings of naked ladies. And not normal naked ladies (if there is such a thing), but the naked ladies in Picasso's sexual fantasies. Grant it, these are no Picassos but the people still shell out the cash for "high art." I took the blue line to Wonderland Beach this weekend and managed not to get burned even though I should have because I am too cheap to buy sunscreen. I pissed off the wrong seagull by stealing its crab and some homeless guy thought I was Brazilian. Go figure. A skinny white girl from small town Illinois. I walked through the Commons on the way to the red line (which I had to switch to get to the orange line and then the blue line) and saw some people riding unicycles which got me thinking of the unicycle guys that ride the quad at ISU. I wish I had the grace to ride one, but knowing myself, I would fall on my face and probably break my nose and push the bones into my brain and die on the pavement. On that rather morbidly poetic note, I'm signing off leaving my first week in Boston a success.



H.