Once again, the two under agers faced the weekend and the prospect of staying in. A prospect that just wasn’t going to happen. Our friend Jeff suggested we headed to a 20th anniversary of a British music themed night. Here he had met all his closest friends in Boston and really sold it to us that it was a great vibe. One problem. We were too young to get in. He insisted this was not to be an issue as ‘he knew the guy’.
In life you are taught lessons. Some of value and some not. My lesson to you? Do not believe all you are promised. I would just like to insist this was the third person who has told me they would get me into a bar that so far had a zero percent success rate.
The first time was in Dorchester. This is a district in Boston where you tend to find the most dive like bars. We met an old guy from Galway who had moved over years before and he told us tales of his adventures and how despite missing home, he knew the risk of leaving would result in his deportation forever.We had a few drink with him and then he suggested we go into town; a bar called JJ Foley’s. We explained that we were actually underage and even getting into this bar with him was lucky. Not to worry our Dermott ensured us. He knew a guy. Nonetheless after the taxi dropped us off, Dermott was straight in the bar, two ladies on his arms and never to be seen again. Thanks for the taxi I guess?
The second time was after Kasabian. I had met some friends from the Banshee bar. This is where I watch Celtic games. Robbie had already gone home, as lets just say, the boy had consumed one too many. After the gig it was only about 9.30pm and the night was still young, nearly as young as I felt! My friends from the Banshee insisted they would get me into the bar and once again, I believed them. Stupidly I went in last and the bouncer hit me with the words I dread most. “You have to be 21 to drink in the states”. My night ended with me directing a drunk middle-aged irishman to the train and walking home. I would like to add, I walked home to save the last $20 I had, ultimately dropping it anyways.
Nonetheless, you can see why I had some anxiety when Jeff insisted he would get us into this bar. He had turned up around twenty minutes before to ensure he had the stamp. When we turned up he went for the standard lick and stick and all I was left with was a slobbery hand and broken dreams. “Fuck” was his response. I got out my phone to get the uber but infinite Jeff had an idea. (Jeff is also a part-time DJ who goes by the name of Infinite Jeff). We went to his car and I kid you not, the guy drew on our stamps. See pictures below.
As we walked towards the bouncers I couldn’t help but think this could lead to our second encounter with the police. I knew that being underage just resulted in an embarrassing rejection. However I had no idea how faking a stamp and not being of age would go. I held my breath, looked confident and walked in. “Have a nice night guys” the bouncers said. I honestly could not believe it. Our stamps looked absolutely noting like the originals. They weren’t even the same colour?
Nonetheless we had a great night. It was the first time I’d been in a bar with a dance floor since arriving in Boston. It’s been over four months since I’ve been in a club. For those who know me, that is a big thing! It was great to her some eighties tunes and Jeff was really impressed that I knew songs like ‘tainted love’ and ‘you can call me al’. Sadly they were the songs I listened to when training for my half marathon, so it must be said, they weren’t the fondest of party memories. I couldn’t tell if I was out of breath from my lack of dancing over the past few months or the flashbacks of the hill before Musselburgh racecourse. We were told the drinks were really cheap and somehow after two rounds for three people, with tips included, I spent $40. Ultimately, that is just Boston for you.
Thanks for reading!