Stupid Is As Stupid Does

Everything started off nice enough this weekend. The Gay Boston Bloggers got together on Friday night for their (ir)Regularly scheduled gathering. This time, we took advantage of Restaurant Week in Boston and ate at the Parker House (located in the “oldest continually operated hotel in the United States”, as they claim). It’s also the birthplace of Parker House rolls, backed schrod, and Boston Creme Pie (I believe that’s how they spell cream).

Anyway, I had Nantucket scallops and the most delicious spinach salad with apples and feta, in addition to the usual great conversation from the gang. And it was so great to finally meet Fritz (Will’s husband) after over two years of knowing Will.

On Saturday, I headed to the Cape for some family bonding. We went furniture and area rug shopping since the hardwood floors are going in next month and that project seems to be motivating them to do even more to beautify their place. That night my friend, Jen, came over (her folks have a summer place in Falmouth) and we all played Rummy. Mom kicked ass and dad lost, despite cheating. It’s true! We caught him lying about the points he had in his hand. That’s karma, baby. And it’s a bitch.

On Sunday, Jen offered to drive me back to Boston in the early afternoon. Mike and I had planned on seeing “Little Miss Sunshine” but weren’t sure when. But then my friends Roger and Marin contacted me and we decided to all go to the 5PM screening at the Kendall as a group. I grabbed my umbrella, iPod and cell phone and closed the apartment door to head to the subway.

Then it struck me as the door latch locked behind me that I had let my keys just inside the door. DAMN! This is SO not like me. But since my hands were already full with other things, I never noticed that one of those items wasn’t my key ring.

I went across the street (propping the door open behind me) and knocked on my landlord’s door…but he wasn’t home. I then walked to the end of the street (and into the big feast that was taking place this weekend) to the senior citizen housing complex where my landlord’s handyman lives. His name is Charlie Brown (seriously) and is the sweetest little man. Anyway, I looked at the building directory but couldn’t find his name. Finally, a little old lady walked out and asked who I was looking for. I said Charlie Brown and she snapped back that she didn’t know him. She asked what he looked like and I said “He’s a short little African-American man…always smiling, very friendly.”

Then she said “Oh wait”. She turned to a small group of wheelchair bound elderly ladies sitting 10 feet away and yelled at the top of her lungs “Do you know what apartment that colored guy lives in?”

Of course, the ladies couldn’t hear her so she yelled even louder “Do you know where that colored man lives?” Ugh. Poor Charlie must be the only man of color in the neighborhood.

And poor me since it was soon discovered that he was on vacation in California.

I then walked back home, deflated, and tried knocking on my downstairs neighbor’s door to see if I could climb the fire escape and enter through an open window to my kitchen. She wasn’t home. Then I tried my neighbor upstairs. She let me in and we looked at her windows, but her fire escape only went up to the neighbor above her. There was no connection to my unit (which was below).

Hopeless, I went to the movies anyway (I even had to pay to access the subway for the first time in a decade). Fortunately, the movie was hilarious and a good time was had by all.

After the movie, Mike went home to do some work and Roger and Marin and I decided to explore the feast in my neighborhood. When we got back to the North End, I discovered my landlord was home (otherwise, Roger and Marin had offered to let me crash at their place…thanks guys!) I was able to gain access to my apartment and then we walked around the feast in the pouring rain. Most vendors had left so it was rather sad. I’m hoping there’s more going on tonight – the last night of the feasts.

And that was my weekend. Oh, except on my way to work this morning this couple in an SUV asked me for directions as I walked along Mass Ave. I gave it to them and walked away feeling good about myself. I wonder why I get such a good feeling inside for doing a good deed? I wish I’d have known this as a teen on Cape Cod when I would give tourists completely fake directions. Though, looking back, I got great satisfaction in getting tourists more lost. Now I get satisfaction in giving them the truth. That’s growth! That’s maturity! That’s me!

1 Comment(s)

  1. Comment by karyn on August 28, 2006 11:16 am

    Yeah, that’s you.

    Don’t you badmouth R. to me, I won’t hear of it!

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