Thursday, March 4, 2010

Boston je t'aime

I went to Boston with my family and on the last morning of our stay in the Theatre District, we went for a promenade (which is French for stroll). It was breakfast time and our tums were growling and snarling and we decided to blow off the buffet (also a French word) at the Courtyard Marriott because it was pretty mediocre the morning before. The morning before, there was a room that looked pretty classy until the hostess sat us down next to the forty-three inch flat screen that spilled the morning news all over my scrambled eggs, which might have served better as the sole of a shoe. On this morning, we ventured up two blocks to see what we could find to muzzle our stomachs and on the way we saw five police motorcycles parked up the walk. What happened next was something that I've never seen before in real life. It's something that's always in movies and cartoons and books but I'd never seen it before now with my own eyes. The cops were in the Dunkin' Donuts. And can you guess what they were eating? They had before them donuts and coffee. I nearly laughed, and I wanted to acknowledge them to let them know that I appreciated that they were eating donuts at Dunkin' Donuts but I didn't. I wonder if they were doing it for the shock factor.

I stepped up to the counter where I ordered a a honey bran muffin and a small cup of ick with cream and no sugar.

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