So we’re back from Boston. The trip home sucked – I was tired and hungover after being out until 3, and our train was late, dumping us at Union Station just after midnight. Other than that, the trip was fantastic. The Game, if you didn’t watch it or read about it, was a good one for a Boston fan, so long as you ignore that little 31-9 run by the Lakers in the fourth. The company was fantastic as usual. I finally made it to Beer Works. And the experience of watching a Finals game at the Garden was incredible. The video I posted to Flickr doesn’t do it justice – my crappy little point-and-shoot didn’t pick up most of the crowd noise. But I think you get the idea. We left the game hoarse from yelling, and the wife has a little bruise on her wrist where her bracelet kept hitting when she clapped. There were some L.A. fans at the game, but not too many. It was funny listening to Celtics fans give them a hard time. It was mostly pretty good-natured. One kid walking behind us as we headed towards our seats was yelling at any Lakers fans he saw, until two big guys passed by. He shut up pretty quickly then. I turned around and laughed at him, and he sort of shrugged. I guess he hadn’t yet drank away his survival instinct. And now it’s almost time for Game 3.
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