So the stewardess knew how to make points when she taped Elizabeth's picture of a Jet flying through the Blue at the front of the plane for all to see.
That Jet took us to Boston, and we hit the Freedom Trail - and lord, we've got nothing on Europe, but wow, does Boston have it all over California when it comes to history. So the Duck/Bus/Boat thing (don't ask) is headed back to the hotel, with a few more sights to be seen, but c'mon - the USS Constitution is right back there. I mean, right there. Do I not now have a Zippo - stamped USS Constitution - freshly stashed in my pocket to add to my collection? How can I not stop and say hello?
The other merrymakers head on their way and I head mine. I'm gonna wave to that grand ship, gonna pay my respects to Old Ironsides. Besides, the hotel is only a mile away - bridge and all, I can walk that lickety-split and meet the family in two shakes. And besides that, the Bell in Hand was already pointed out to me on our sightseeing jaunt. The Bell in Hand? It's only the oldest bar in these here United States. Founded in 1795. Really, ya got yet Bunker Hill, ya got yer Old North Church - but I've got the Bell, and I saw it about an hour back. I'm good.
And when the Bell in Hand miraculously appears on my way back to the hotel? Practically jumps out at me, off to the left? That's God talking, telling all sinners and saints to stop on in for a wee nip. Bourbon, rocks.
It's a younger crowd - everyone's excited because the Bruins are in the Stanley Cup playoffs. So the kids here are excited and loud - which means it's a good time to be in Boston and a great time to be in a bar in Boston, especially the oldest bar in America.
God bless America. Really.