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The day I spent walking through nearly all the
streets of Central Boston with my brother, started at the Christian
Science Church and headed east into the oldest parts of ye olde
towne. The day uncharacteristically began with bright skies
and high aspirations to see the best symbol of showy American
political dissent: I wanted to see the Boston Tea Party Boat.
Of course, my distaste for the British partly played
into my quest, as field trip after field trip to Lexington and
Concord, Bunker Hill, and the USS Constitution reinforced a very
logical conclusion that the British truly were imperial scum.
As I grew older, the streets of Boston added to this - with statues,
buildings and historical markers dotting the landscape - and hatred
of the British was complete.
Of course, in grade school I was slightly
disillusioned and never got a firm answer why America sided with the
British in both world wars after they had attacked Washington and
burnt down the White House. I don't even want to bring up what
living in Ireland did for my anti-British behaviors. My
brother and I snaked through Boston, sidetracked by the Big Dig, but
finally found our way on the homestretch to the Fort Point Channel,
home of the Children's Museum and the Tea Party Boat.
As we approached the channel, the skies grew
dark and grey, cold winds blew off the Atlantic, and lightning
started to flash in the distance. This was going to be closed,
and we skipped by the Museum but started to become confused.
There were no masts visible, no boat, no lines of tourists.
Much like the disappointment Han Solo and friends encountered upon
reaching Alderran, my brother and I stood in the place it should
have been and couldn't find a shred of its existence anywhere.
A lot of tourists were bemused by the spectacle I
made, and as I made desperate and ultimately fruitless phone calls
to people to confirm its location hadn't changed, I swore aloud.
Someway, somehow, the boat had been moved away from public view.
There was a nice, apologetic note in its place, addressed to 'Fellow
Patriots', but it hardly made up for the buildup of the entire
day of walking.
So, after snapping a couple pictures, we hightailed
it out away from the water, as the rain began to fall and lightning
shot down from the skies. We ran by the Old South Meeting
House, where many an anti-British and pro-freedom rally was held
back in the day.
Click Here to head on over to
part six: Travel Bingo
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My brother and Sam Adams.
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