Sunday, August 29, 2010

Festivals are NOT for the Weak

My guy lived in the North End for the year we courted. I was in NY and he was in Boston. Unlike the gaggle of twenty something people I know I never called the North End home – but it was close enough having the soon-to-be ball & chain residing in the 02113 there.  He would complain about the smell, the crowds, the festivals, the tourists – the whole lot of the experience did nothing for me. He once lived in an old school apartment where they had to use the oven as a heat source and in another stint he lived on the 78th* floor up a stairway to heaven. No. Thank. You. Walk up? I think not. My cap is 3rd floor.

Being apart of the neighborhood you would think he would have attended the long anticipated yearly St. Anthony’s Feast.  This poorly planned festival boasts fresh off the boat Italino cuisine, carnie games & many a worship shrine to tack dollars to in hopes your wishes come true. What isn’t on the bill? The crowds of people. I’m talking swarms. I’d be afraid for lives lost if the crew from the Jersey Shore showed up for one of their many bar crawls ending in a bar brawl. 
Nothing says "St. Anthony's Feast" like a GTL Muscle Tank
Despite having t-shirt & souvenir booths dedicated to them they didn’t show up this year. You know who did? 
The Guarros: in full effect. We thought it’d be a grand idea to walk through this weekend.  I had to work this weekend, in the corporate office of the company I work for (in Boston) – and for the first time in for as long as I can remember I’d have a room to myself so since we haven’t all been together at any given weekend clip over the last few monthS, why not bring them along?  That was a good idea.
Bad idea? Bring a toddler through the hott mess of St. Anthony Festival in the North End.

Period.

I tweeted and emailed a few peeps on what to do – I got a few suggestions to head to the North End. More than a few people were DEAD WRONG. I think I replied something to the effect that I loved a little chaos from time to time, why not?

Why not? Well, self of a few days ago, I'm glad you asked.  Chaos with an almost 3 year old is not only dangerous but damn it’s frustrating and you’re angry enough for funnel cake’s sake. We walked from the hotel we were staying in and upon arriving we were hesitant. Let this be another lesson for you folks, go with your gut.  

After being essentially trampled for yet another food booth and pushed in front of while driving a PLAIN AS sight ORANGE stroller we made our escape. The good news was restaurants on the outskirts of the festival were ghost towns so we were able to have a kick ass meal with out the wait you’ll usually find on a weekend night. To pry the kid out of the restaurant quietly at 9 pm we went to our go to parenting standby: ice cream.**  Upon hitting the streets in search for the dairy goodness I think L got her nationalities mixed up.

“ICECREAM? VAMANOS MOM. Let’s GO!” – L by way of Dora. 

Thanks Dora. More on our walk home and the integration of her love for Dora, later.

*Exaggeration, reality was maybe 6? It felt like more. 
**Please note – we are well aware of the fact that before we were married, before we had our kid we looked at parents who had their kids out in the dark, never mind after 9pm. So judge away – onlooker. Suck it. Also – suck it if you are judging over the bribery go to. It works. You don’t mess with things that work. And IF you are one of those Mary Poplins parents that don’t implore any of these tactics – good for you. Big friggin deal.

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