Go! Go! Black and Gold!!
First off, if you haven't checked out Owen's page recently, go there now and look at his post on "The Many Faces of (Al) Gore." Go ahead. I'll wait.
Back? OK. Now let's all thank him for keeping those around.
The other night I got a phone call from my brother; he asked me what I was doing on Thursday. Usually, this is an invitation to go see a band my brother likes and I won't particularly like, no matter how much he tells me I should like them. This time he invited me to a hockey game, to see the Boston Bruins play the Florida Panthers.
"Nah," I said. I'm not what you'd call a sports fan. At all. I am not a member of Red Sox Nation. I don't follow the Patriots. I haven't watched the Celtics since I was in high school. And even though hockey is big in Boston, it's not important to me. I hope all my local teams win, but if they don't I'm not gonna care all that much.
Then he told me the seats were behind the glass. And they were free. I was unmoved. And oh yeah-the Dropkick Murphys were playing at the game. "OK, I'm in," I said. So we went to the Fleet Center-sorry...this week it's the Banknorth Center- and watched the B's kick the crap out of Florida. It was a good time, but I'd be lying (and not very convincingly) if I said I wasn't there to see the Dropkick Murphys more than the Bruins. It was a reversal for my brother and I, as he doesn't much care for the Murphys, and his opinion hasn't changed since Thursday.
So here are my two negative impressions of my first sporting event in decades: first, it's expensive as fuck. Two beers and a sausage sandwich for $17.00. That's fucking madness. The worst part was the beer was "Budweiser Select", which I wittily quipped was "a better class of shit", but it was the only thing they had (or so I thought until I later found the guy selling Heineken, Amstel and Sam Adams- I coulda died, I tell ya).
Second, the bathrooms at the Fleet Center aren't big enough. Nothing like having to wait in line to drain the dragon to get you irritated quick.
A cool thing happened: My bro and I were late, stuck in Boston traffic (which I can't believe is not the worst traffic in the country). By the time we got into our seats, 7 minutes or so had gone by in the first period. During those seven minutes, the puck went over the glass and landed in my brother's seat. The kid behind us got to keep it, and since we weren't there yet, my brother didn't get a puck in the face.
Now the last and (until Thursday) only time I had seen the Murphys was at the Strand Theatre in Providence, RI earlier this year, with my hetero-lifemate, Chuck. We were both less than impressed. They were ok, but it was almost impossible to enjoy the show as the place was packed tighter than Dick Cheney's ass and was, horror of horrors, an all-ages show. We didn't know that until we got there. Nothing like having a fifteen year-old girl look at you and sing "Kiss me, I'm shitfaced."
Not likely, shortcake.
Those who know me know two things about me: 1) I am claustrophobic. 2) I have zero patience with annoying people (especially teenagers), and even less when I'm feeling claustrophobic.
It's a wonder no one died. As it is, the place was so hot it made the big guy leave lest he pass out. I left before I started swinging. Add the fact that the Murphys had just replaced their longtime piper Spicy McHaggis (it's his real name, honest) with the less-proficient Scruffy Wallace, and it was a disappointment for Chuck and I both. Spicy ruled, and the aptly named "Spicy McHaggis Jig," could've been written about me, the Angry Piper, as it pretty much deals with a bagpiper who digs the big girls. They played the song anyway, without Spicy, but it just made me miss him more.
Thursday I got to see the Dropkick Murphys at a different venue. The Boston Police Department Pipe Band played them onto the stage. It was very cool hearing those guys.
It was a better show than Lupo's, especially since the Bruins won, too; it put the band in high spirits. They were good, but not great...they didn't play their best stuff at all and aside from "Boys on the Docks" there wasn't much I liked. The other exception was their rendition of "Fields of Athenry", a traditional song that always gets me weepy (yep-ME). It gets me weepy even without the story the band told of a soldier they knew who was killed in Iraq, leaving behind his wife and two kids, who requested the song be played at his funeral.
Yeah. Even the Emotionally Dead Inside Piper can't stand up to that. The tears were flowing. Well, ok...not flowing. More like welling up. More like glistening, actually.
I had something in my eye. Heck, it'll take more than that to make me cry.
Back? OK. Now let's all thank him for keeping those around.
The other night I got a phone call from my brother; he asked me what I was doing on Thursday. Usually, this is an invitation to go see a band my brother likes and I won't particularly like, no matter how much he tells me I should like them. This time he invited me to a hockey game, to see the Boston Bruins play the Florida Panthers.
"Nah," I said. I'm not what you'd call a sports fan. At all. I am not a member of Red Sox Nation. I don't follow the Patriots. I haven't watched the Celtics since I was in high school. And even though hockey is big in Boston, it's not important to me. I hope all my local teams win, but if they don't I'm not gonna care all that much.
Then he told me the seats were behind the glass. And they were free. I was unmoved. And oh yeah-the Dropkick Murphys were playing at the game. "OK, I'm in," I said. So we went to the Fleet Center-sorry...this week it's the Banknorth Center- and watched the B's kick the crap out of Florida. It was a good time, but I'd be lying (and not very convincingly) if I said I wasn't there to see the Dropkick Murphys more than the Bruins. It was a reversal for my brother and I, as he doesn't much care for the Murphys, and his opinion hasn't changed since Thursday.
So here are my two negative impressions of my first sporting event in decades: first, it's expensive as fuck. Two beers and a sausage sandwich for $17.00. That's fucking madness. The worst part was the beer was "Budweiser Select", which I wittily quipped was "a better class of shit", but it was the only thing they had (or so I thought until I later found the guy selling Heineken, Amstel and Sam Adams- I coulda died, I tell ya).
Second, the bathrooms at the Fleet Center aren't big enough. Nothing like having to wait in line to drain the dragon to get you irritated quick.
A cool thing happened: My bro and I were late, stuck in Boston traffic (which I can't believe is not the worst traffic in the country). By the time we got into our seats, 7 minutes or so had gone by in the first period. During those seven minutes, the puck went over the glass and landed in my brother's seat. The kid behind us got to keep it, and since we weren't there yet, my brother didn't get a puck in the face.
Now the last and (until Thursday) only time I had seen the Murphys was at the Strand Theatre in Providence, RI earlier this year, with my hetero-lifemate, Chuck. We were both less than impressed. They were ok, but it was almost impossible to enjoy the show as the place was packed tighter than Dick Cheney's ass and was, horror of horrors, an all-ages show. We didn't know that until we got there. Nothing like having a fifteen year-old girl look at you and sing "Kiss me, I'm shitfaced."
Not likely, shortcake.
Those who know me know two things about me: 1) I am claustrophobic. 2) I have zero patience with annoying people (especially teenagers), and even less when I'm feeling claustrophobic.
It's a wonder no one died. As it is, the place was so hot it made the big guy leave lest he pass out. I left before I started swinging. Add the fact that the Murphys had just replaced their longtime piper Spicy McHaggis (it's his real name, honest) with the less-proficient Scruffy Wallace, and it was a disappointment for Chuck and I both. Spicy ruled, and the aptly named "Spicy McHaggis Jig," could've been written about me, the Angry Piper, as it pretty much deals with a bagpiper who digs the big girls. They played the song anyway, without Spicy, but it just made me miss him more.
Thursday I got to see the Dropkick Murphys at a different venue. The Boston Police Department Pipe Band played them onto the stage. It was very cool hearing those guys.
It was a better show than Lupo's, especially since the Bruins won, too; it put the band in high spirits. They were good, but not great...they didn't play their best stuff at all and aside from "Boys on the Docks" there wasn't much I liked. The other exception was their rendition of "Fields of Athenry", a traditional song that always gets me weepy (yep-ME). It gets me weepy even without the story the band told of a soldier they knew who was killed in Iraq, leaving behind his wife and two kids, who requested the song be played at his funeral.
Yeah. Even the Emotionally Dead Inside Piper can't stand up to that. The tears were flowing. Well, ok...not flowing. More like welling up. More like glistening, actually.
I had something in my eye. Heck, it'll take more than that to make me cry.
posted by The Angry Piper at 11:05 PM
2 Comments:
Hey I wonder what band will be playing at the Monday night Pat's Colts game, which I happen to have tickets too.
Your brother should have taken me to the game because I am better company. I like the game.
Malach, sorry about the Pat's. That was painful. Painful for me too because I live in a place where they love their teams regardless of how bad they suck.
Piper, the invitation to the Highland games is still on the table. Come down here and see me!
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