I do love Mondays. For most people, Monday blows. Monday signifies the end of the weekend, the end of sleeping in and the beginning of another long work week. Not for me. No, no…for me, Monday is Sunday and that’s my fun-day. My I don’t have to run-day. It’s just another sweet-ass Monday.
I get to sleep in, take my sweet time getting ready and prepared for the day and then—and this is my favorite part—I’ve got nothing to do!!
That’s right, while the rest of you are at work thinking that five’o’clock can’t come fast enough, I’m probably sitting on my couch watching SportsCenter and eating a bowl of generic, store-brand Trix. While the rest of you are chugging down that first cup of morning coffee, I’m probably still passed out in my bed, snoring like a lumberjack and dreaming about leading the Twins to a World Series victory as their new centerfielder. While the rest of you are finally getting around to microwaving your lunch, I’m probably just getting around to brushing my teeth…or maybe not!
Now that I’ve properly setup an overwhelming sense of jealousy and angst amongst my already limited readership contingent, let me get around to the point of this rambling saga. This Monday, I was all set to get my license switched over to a Massachusetts license…a process that is roughly two years overdue, but I’m not one to sweat the small stuff. So I got up at a fairly reasonable hour—for me on a Monday, that is—at roughly 10:30 and proceeded to shower, shave, brush my teeth and even trim my God-awful ‘70s sideburns as to make a more presentable driver’s license picture.
To be honest, I find the picture very important, because everyone has a friend with one of those unfortunate pictures on their license that is blatantly a half-decade and multiple life-choices old. For example: the ill-fated “Goth” picture taken at some angst-fueled point in college or the hung-over, half-awake picture that you barely remember taking or even worse the “I just got the worst hair-cut ever and broke out” the morning of driver’s license renewal picture. Those pictures will haunt you for the duration of the license and every time you’re at a bar someone is going to be like “hey have you guys seen Billy’s license?!” and everyone will reply “no, bust it out!” and poor Billy will and he’ll be mocked and ridiculed. Generally everyone else follows suit and displays their pictures as well and this is why you want to look your finest for these things!!
Anywho, back to my preparation…in my previous license, I look disheveled, confused, moderately Amish and—worst of all—twelve. So I was determined to not only look more stately and grown-up, but like a man who belongs behind the wheel of a car…not someone who belongs strapped into a child’s safety seat. I contemplated putting some eyelash goo in my prepubescent mustache to make it pop, but figured that was more sad than stately and passed on that plan. Instead I snagged my finest blue shirt, to ensure major poppage of my peepers in the picture. (Alliteration is our friend!)
I then set about gathering all of the necessary paperwork. Which–for an out-of-state transfer–includes: a social security card (preferably your own), your birth certificate, your out-of-state license and/or a recent copy of your driving record, a document providing proof of age, a document providing proof of signature, two documents proving residency and—of course—my checkbook.
I made one last check of the RMV website to ensure that I was headed to the right place and wandered out the door. It was a little odd riding the subway, because I realized I haven’t been on the ‘T’ or in Boston in like a month-and-a-half; which is really weird considering I used to be on the ‘T’ everyday and in Boston all the time. Anyway, I got out, wandered down the street and—despite the blowing wind—managed to ensure the structural integrity of my hair for the picture…only to find when I got to the RMV that they were closed down for the day due to some computer meltdown.
As one might expect, with that much pre-game preparation, I was pretty pissed. (Again with the alliteration!) I figured that in lieu of a new license, I’d go out to eat and buy myself a nice lunch. Heck, if I’ve actually left the house on my day off, I might as well enjoy it, right?!
So I wandered around downtown Boston for awhile trying to find the perfect place for lunch. I contemplated Chinese, burgers, Mexican, a hot dog from a vendor and then it dawned on me…I was pining for some pulled pork piled high! (Okay, now I’m just showing off…)
So I wandered to ‘Champions’ by the Prudential Building for what I’ve deemed the best pulled pork in all of Boston and/or Cambridge. I sauntered in, pulled up a chair ordered the aforementioned pulled pork sammitch and a tall Budweiser. I spent some time watching the various mid-afternoon sports shows that were on the tube and then devoured my sammitch. I was about ready to leave when a group of older dudes—mostly in their fifties I’d say—asked me to help them resolve an argument within their posse.
“Hey Kid,” one of the old dudes yelled, “you got a second?!”
“Sure…what’s up?!” I said before polishing off the last of my Bud.
“We need you to settle something for us. Should the Sox re-sign ‘Tek or let him walk?!” another of the old dudes asked.
At this point, I basically turned into the Grinch at the end of the book when his heart grows like 10 times or something…which if you think about it…would probably have killed that green bastard right there on the spot. However, that’s not the point. The point is a bunch of old, buzzed Red Sox fans wanted my opinion on the Sox. So I wandered over and gave them my opinion on the situation. An opinion that about half the group seemed to love and the other half hated. Then someone from the half that loved it asked what I’d been drinking and ordered me another and asked me to sit down and talk some baseball…so I did.
Basically I spent the rest of my afternoon talking baseball with a bunch of awesome old dudes who were paying to get my all-kinds of drunk. We took turns talking about free-agents, who should sign where, what moves different teams should make and they even went so far as to dub me “Theo 2.0”…which for those of you out there aren’t baseball savvy is a pretty solid compliment coming from Red Sox fans.
They bought me four beers before I headed to the restroom and decided that I was a little too stumbly and should head home. But when I’d come back from the restroom, there was another tall Bud waiting for me. So they kept me around for another half-hour or so in which I was peppered with more compliments for my vast baseball knowledge and then good-natured insults when I finally revealed my allegiance to the Twins. At this point I wandered off while they finished their third “last round.”
Whether or not this seemingly lengthy yarn served any real purpose can be debated, but in the end the moral of the story is this: “even when it seems like things aren’t going to go my way…my Mondays are still soooooo much cooler than yours!!”