March 20 | House of Blues, Boston | The Pogues*

Prologue: A couple of years ago (back when G worked for a British company and I rode his coattails as often as I could when he went there for meetings) we wandered into a pub on a little side street in London. As a non-British non-drinker, I was always fascinated by the whole pub experience (do I choose where I sit? do I walk over to the bar and shout my soda order? is someone going to yell at me? and what about the crowd of people lingering outside? do I just walk up and make conversation? are they already in groups of friends?)

As you can tell, I overthink things.

This time it was irresistible. It was the night of the European Football Playoffs and there was a jolly chaos inside that we couldn't ignore. So we went in, joined in the happy cheering and jeering, suddenly die-hard English football fans by virtue of pub-adoption. I grinned through the whole jubilant exuberant night and left feeling like I had jumped, Mary-Poppins-and-Burt-style, into another world. Minus the penguin waiters.

* * *

G and I had tickets to the Pogues concert at The House of Blues. Let's see... Irish folk/punk band in Boston? In a concert hall with five bars along the interior perimeter? Think that'll be lively?

     

It was amazing fun. We laughed a lot--at the dancers, at the manic mood of the whole audience, at the enthusiasm--and went home giddy and glad.

. . .

*Day Five of Best of 09 challenge, reposted from here. Close runners up: our family night out at the polo match/Newport cliff walk, Lauren's sweet sixteen, WaterFire in Providence.  My solo night out going to the Adele concert. The U2 concert with friends.  Good times.