Mestee Blogger

I stayed late at work yesterday, trying to finish up our project before the deadline of 12:00 pm today. I caught one of the last shuttles from World Trade to North Station at 6:45, and hustled toward the trains in hopes of just catching the 6:55 to West Medford. When I got in the station, the clock read 6:57, and there were no trains posted as being present. I looked out on the tracks, and saw a train sitting on track 8, where my train usually departs from. Sometimes they take the train off the boards when it's just about to leave the station, so I started running to track 8, hoping this was the 6:55 train that had been slightly delayed. Another guy was running right with me and we both entered the train. He asked me if this was the 6:55, and I told him I wasn't sure. The car we were in was closed off, so there were no passengers around, but we saw a guy in a uniform at the front of the train --presumably the driver -- and decided to ask him.

Other Guy: Do you know if this is the 6:55?
Presumed Driver: I have no idea!

Oh, of couse not. How could we have ever thought that the guy in uniform behind the steering mechanism would have any clue what train he was on? We asked another guy, and he informed us that this was the 7:30 train to West Medford. Doh! Now I had a half hour to waste. The other guy and I walked back to the main part of the station, disappointed and a little TO'd. I couldn't help but notice that the "other guy" looked VERY familiar, if out of context. He looked so familiar that I had to ask...but he looked at me and spoke first:

Other Guy: Are you Sarah's brother?
Me: I knew it must be you...

Son of a Gamish. Nate Gamish, in fact. We talked for a few minutes and I found out that he just left a job that was so bad that they provided him free housing in Brighton and he still decided it would be better to quit, so now he's working in the English department at Suffolk and living with Jay Gamish in Billerica. He decided to venture out and find some pizza while he waited, and I stayed in North Station and read my book.

As I was walking to a less crowded area to stand, I made eye contact with a guy and we each gave the "how ya doin'" head nod. I started to read my book, but he immediately approached me.

Random Guy: Hey, could I get some change?
Me: Yeah, sure.
Random Guy: Maybe a couple dollars?
Me: I just have change.
Random Guy: I'd like to buy a crack rock.
Me: Huh?
Random Guy: If you give me $10, I'll go get a crack rock...
Me: Uh, that's okay.
Random Guy: I'll get it in Fitchburg, then I'll come back and pay you!
Me: Here's 50 cents.
Random Guy: Okay. Thanks.

I learned a few things in this exchange.
1) You can get a "Crack Rock" for $10 in the Greater Boston Area.
2) Those who smoke crack believe that a non crack-smoker will trust them with $10.
3) I look like the kind of guy that would chip in for said "Crack Rock".

That is all for today...except for a few links:

Here is the link to the Napoleon Dynamite soundboard -- AKA Endless hours of entertainment for Irfan.

Upon the suggestion of the Grim Reaper, check out the latest Dear Internet entry at the official website of the New Original Country Gentlemen. Andy Bean has informed me that he has "a very embarassing gambling story" from his rendezvous with Spiro in Las Vegas, which is so embarassing that he is not yet ready to share it with the world. If the story will not be appearing on Dear Internet, I will offer up a guest blogging spot in this very forum, so as to facilitate mass internet humiliation.

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