Ghosts, Ghouls & Getting the Pee Scared Outta Me

Since I was last visiting the greater Boston area during the season of the BIG DIG, in which I managed to get lost, go through the same toll booth 4 times, get laughed at by said toll booth operator to finally make it to Beacon Hill….

I have changed my opinion.

Boston is not, in fact, the armpit of these Great United States.

Quite the contrary actually.   As long as I don’t have to drive there I will claim it to be a lovely city with super nice people.

Accept the people driving.  They sucked.

Anyhoo.  Onward and upward with the trip.

In my opinion, there is no better way to see any given city as a tourist, but to go on some cheesy ass tourist tour, so that everybody knows that you are, in fact, a tourist.

That’s exactly what me and OG did.  OG is my travel buddy and workplace superior for those of you not yet in the know.

We decided that the average tour wouldn’t do.  We wanted to know the seedy, dirty history behind the city of Boston.

What better way to do that than to go on the Ghosts & Gravestones Tour???? 

Yah, that’s what we thought too.

You start out by getting your little ticket and your little sticker that shows you’ve got the right to be on the trolley of death from these goofy fuckers…

The chick was actually pretty cool.  She kept on cracking a big ass whip.  I have to be honest.  It was quite the turn on.

Then, you follow up by placing the sticker on your being. 

Me being me, I chose to adorn my rack.  Because flashing is just the way I roll, baby.

After stategically placing the sticker on ones clothing, one then boards the Trolley of Death…

Yay!  So, from there, this trolley cavorts around Boston with the whip crackin chick telling all kinds of cool ghost stories… Boston Massacre, Boston Strangler, the Omni Parker House room 303….

Then came the Graveyards… and this fella who was the hostess with the mostess… 

 

John Hancocks grave (please note the penis shaped stone… wonder if back in the day that was a way of compensating for something?)

Anyways, so, the chick with the whip shows back up and hides behind some poor unsuspecting tourist during the end of the last ghost story told by creepy guy in the graveyard. 

The deal was to scare the piss out of said tourist. 

She sneaks up and at the opportune moment, screams at the top of her lungs.

Well, it turns out, I was her target.  Until I turned around and saw her ass standing there.

So, she scoots behind OG, screams like a banchee…

And nothing.  If OG had ball, they would be made of cast iron.

This is OG.  Not scared.

I, on the other hand, knew it was coming, and I still almost pissed myself.

What a candy ass.

 

More Boston stories soon. 

I need to go pee.