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Fenway Park
One of the greatest things about volunteering in the Fenway area is getting to walk past Fenway Park on game days. It's almost like going to a small town carnival - there is so much joyous energy in the air. Too bad there's no cotton candy.
I was greeted outside of the train by scalpers as I was hoarded toward the parking lot in a sea of jerseys and ball caps. The air was thick with working class Boston accents and nervous energy.
After my shift I walked down Brookline to catch the train at Kenmore. I could hear the announcers, see the lights. Venders were selling discount hats and beverages to stragglers. Everyone was in the park, finding seats, eating hot dogs, catching a game. I was on the outside, suddenly 12-years-old again.
I could almost reach into the sky and catch the peanuts.
I was greeted outside of the train by scalpers as I was hoarded toward the parking lot in a sea of jerseys and ball caps. The air was thick with working class Boston accents and nervous energy.
After my shift I walked down Brookline to catch the train at Kenmore. I could hear the announcers, see the lights. Venders were selling discount hats and beverages to stragglers. Everyone was in the park, finding seats, eating hot dogs, catching a game. I was on the outside, suddenly 12-years-old again.
I could almost reach into the sky and catch the peanuts.
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YOU WANT TO STAY HERE.
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(Actually, I /do/ love this city. I love it very much. I love the spirit of the people, and I love the political climate, and I love the proximity of my family, and I love the ocean, and I love all of the arthouse movies, and I love the Red Sox, and I love me some Amy. But I'll be damned if I can figure out a way for us to actually afford to have lives here. If you think of something, kindly let me know.)
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I couldnt afford to have a life there either.
xo
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