So I'm up in Boston. Actually, a crappy hotel on the outskirts of Boston. Thanks, Mom. Dad's snoring woke me up at four, so I've been watching Family Guy for the past two hours. I'm going to see Emerson again today, but last night I roamed the city quite a bit. Here's what they have a lot of:
Bank of America
Here's what they don't have a lot of:
people who aren't white
To my front-of-the-mouth talking New Yorker's ear, everyone up here sounds a bit like Peter Griffin. Anyway, as I was strolling around last night I realized that it's incredibly easy to pick an Emerson kid out of the bunch. There seems to be an unofficial uniform: primary colored knit beret, black peacoat, leggings, flat-heeled leather boots. I also think there might be a weight limit, since everyone I've seen looks to be hopelessly anorexic. Oh, well. If we were at the Omni or the Park Plaza I could look out the window, but all I have here is a lovely view of McDonald's. Jesus Christ, kill me now.