I’m in Boston. Safe and not at all sound. I haven’t seen much of the city, but am decidedly amused by the local fascination with a firefighter on disability who got caught flexing his beef in a bodybuilding competition. I’ve seen the footage – I’m pretty sure it’s on a 24-hour loop – and let me just say our buff boy looks like he was starting fires when he should have been putting them out. I have no idea what that meant.
Everyone here is really, really nice, disarmingly nice, in fact, something I didn’t realize was common in parts far enough north for good hockey. And the Boston accents are not at all annoying like they’re made out to be. You know, on reliable shows like SNL and what not, where most people get their exposure to the world and its peoples. Last night I heard a man use the phrase “wicked nic fit” and almost took off my clothes on the spot. I have no idea what that meant either.
I do know that my flight to Boston was a nudge of a reminder that I’m not nearly as nice as everyone else. Even before takeoff I came to the conclusion that we should eliminate travel niceties, small talk, minutiae that don’t help us to procreate. I don’t want us to do so as scattered personal plans or like one of those overweight towns that loses thousands of pounds in days, but rather as a universe that decides to cut useless global BS. So? Snip, snip. More time for Girls Next Door and exposure to the world and its other big-breasted peoples.
The flight attendant who greets in the doorway can be our guinea pig. “How are you? Welcome aboard.” Then the pause that serves no purpose other than delaying the passenger battering of the guy opening every overhead. Now there’s fifteen seconds I could have spent finding the drink cart. And, because like 99% of people and most bacteria I’ve seen the light of day and the inside of a 737, there’s no need for her to motion to her left. I know the smart NASA men didn’t put seats on the big bird’s roof, silly. So, real American flight crew member, in the interest of air safety and me not feeling like you think I’m a dumblekin, I’d sure appreciate it you’d spend your nine extra greeting secs ensuring das engines are glued to das wings.
My snip would also help men in seats such as 14C, when an anxious, talkative blogger accosts them for details about their completely unglossy Amazon Kindles. Because while she’s never seen such remarkably grey technology before, she also has absolutely zero plans either to hit on you or read from your $400 Speak & Spell. If life was right and people good, she wouldn’t have made any painful small talk, and you wouldn’t have been forced to answer her inane questions or make recurring references to your wife seated across the aisle. So that thing your Kindle does where it looks up the Boston Globe and the Washington Post, all on that little screen? She doesn’t care. And when she asked about listening to CDs on your wonder contraption? Yep. Hardly remembers her mouth moving. Sorry about that.
Maybe I should go home on the train.
16 Comments
Ah, Amtrak! Now there’s the future. But the Acela is not cheap and the regionals are very slow.
Loved the cat porn flick. I have a “pet” cat. He eats with me every day. Very nice lady voice, too. Definitely not annoying.
Flying is definitely not as fun (but wait, was it ever fun?) as it used to be.
I know what a “wicked nic fit” is.
Mmm… Acela.
And if saying “wicket nic fit” is all it took to make you want to take off your clothes…
My favorite is peeps who have never encountered numbers ever before in their lives. 30 is more than 2? Who knew?
I’m a little disappointed there was no hose joke about the fireman. Come on. You’re better than that.
Personally, I fake sleep as not to have creepy stalkers converse with me while spittle hangs in the deep corners of their mouth.
I also know what a “wicked nic fit” is. You should know what a “wicked nic fit” is too…
I had a talker next to me on my flight on Sunday. And then I passed out, more than likely drooled on myself and then she didn’t talk to me again.
boston?!?!! meet me!
I actually got a little turned on just reading ‘wicked nic fit’ - that accent on a male is flippin hot.
1) I would prefer not to see the words ’snip’ and ‘men’ in the same sentence. I’m just saying.
2) The part about the flight attendant reminds me of an old Carlin bit about flying:
They say get ‘on’ the plane, get ‘on’ the plane. I say, Eff you, I’m getting in the plane. There seems to be less wind in here. Let Evel Kinevel get on the plane.
I LOVE the title of this post. You are my kind of girl.
Okay, could someone just say what a “nic fit” is and stop being so darned smug about it?
I love Boston accents on men. On women…not so much, I’m sorry to say. In high school, when Good Will Hunting came out, my friends and I thought we had died and gone to heaven.
What happened to “Oh I’ll tell you when you’ll have sex again” post? It was sooo dead on. :-(
i want to know why you didn’t offer your seat to the wife so that he could sit next to her…
“nic fit” is wanting a cigarette wicked bad. which I no longer feel, surprisingly. because i’ve replaced cigs with tacos.