The One With A Boston Tea Party

The three words Boston, tea and party, mean different things to different people. To the majority of British people, the three words strung together conjure up some date from way-back-when, when no-one’s not quite sure what happened, but that some Yanks got annoyed with us Brits and thought the way to express their anger was to pander to racial stereotypes, and mess around with our tea. To the average American, however, Boston Tea Party is the catalyst for the Land of Liberty, Home of the Brave and other such vomit-inducing expressions of misguided patriotism. But, if you are a student of the University of Exeter, particularly if you are a Christian at the University of Exeter, Boston Tea Party means Heaven on Earth. Or rather, it means a small chain of coffee shops in the South West of England which features a sprawling dining room of mismatched chairs, and the best chocolate brownies you will ever taste in your whole life. Unfortunately, on my trip to Boston, there were no organically-made brownies in sight, but lots and lots and lots of vehement American patriotism. 



I just like Britian.

There are few things more uncomfortable than a 12-hour Greyhound ride from Ottawa to Boston. Firstly, you’ve got to put up with the entire population of Ottawa wanting to get to Montreal on a Friday night, which means crazy Canadiens, flaring claustrophobia, and severe delays. Secondly, you have psycho bus drivers going through acrimonious divorces, which don’t make you feel like the safest passenger ever. Thirdly, there’s the quandary of how to make an arthritic and a slipped disk comfortable, (this is difficult, and lucky that neither Gabby or I are uncomfortable with physical contact). Fourthly, violent, aggressive border security peeps in Vermont. Fifthly, bright lights of the bus being put on without warning at 3am and nearly blinding you. Basically, Greyhound rides are a nightmare.



Gross and dishevelled, mine and Gabby’s first day in Boston took us to the New England Aquarium. We were asked about a hundred and sixty-eight times, “Do you know there’s building work going on?” Oh really, the drilling and scaffolding were perplexing me, I couldn’t work out what they were there for. The result of the aforementioned building work is that the aquarium was missing lots of animals and exhibits. Good job I love jellyfish, eh? I feel like I’m doing the aquarium a disservice – there were mini penguins; I found Nemo and Dory; there were jellyfish and starfish and I got to tickle both of them; I also got up close and personal with some stingrays and sharks; and I saw an aquarium-worker try to wrestle a sea turtle. Oh, and a seal yelled at me. That was quite frightening. We also met Willy, of the trolley tours, who coerced us into buying trolley tickets that we never ended up using. At least I got some free cough sweets out of him, though. Then we collapsed into a heap in our hostel, tried to make ourselves vaguely more human, and ventured out for dinner. We also came across the most humungous American flag flying from a hotel. Literally, it was excessively large. Then, to the dulcet sounds of the brashest Aussies who were are roommates for the weekend, we fell fast asleep. 



Blizzard time.

Not that I don’t love Ottawa and Canada in general, but I’m starting to get pretty sick of snow. Foolishly, I thought that venturing down south-ish to the Thirteen Colonies, would be south enough to escape the snow. How wrong I was! Instead, I ended up in Boston a week after Snowstorm Nemo, and Sunday saw a blizzard in Boston. FYI, Boston can’t deal with now like Canada can. For one thing, they don’t grit their pavements, and for another, they pile up snow to the sides of the roads, but don’t think about where they’ve piled it. Therefore, there are gigantic piles of snow right where the pedestrian crossings are. I mean, duh, Boston people, duh! Anyway, when you’re in the middle of a blizzard, what attraction better to visit than the USS Constitution? Gabby and I managed to confuse the soldiers with our weirdly-coloured IDs and I set the metal detector off because I forgot about some rogue batteries in my pocket. The ship itself is an historic ship. So it’s historic and a ship. Google image is your friend if you want more details. The most fun part was the museum, complete with hammocks, which Gabby took a nap in and which I got trapped in. I’m best on stable ground you see. The museum also featured lots of anti-British sentiments. But meanness is okay when it’s against those blasted Brits!





Boston was a very educational experience. I learned that ‘Cheers’ was set in Boston and not New York City. In fairness, I used to watch ‘Cheers’ when I was about 9 and it was shown during the day on Channel 4. I can only remember watching it at my grandparents’ which must mean I only either watched it in the holidays or when I was sick. Anyway, I learned that ‘Cheers’ was set in Boston because I had lunch at the bar where ‘Cheers’ was set. How exciting. The food was amazing, which makes up for the fact that I just about recognised the surroundings and can’t really remember anything about the show other than that it featured Kirsty Alley. I think…Seriously though, the food was amazing. I like food, a lot.

Without doubt, the highlight of the day was a visit to the Boston Tea Party ship. For some reason, our cab driver didn’t or couldn’t drop us off in a normal place, so abandoned us on a highway. One of the weirder moments of life was being helped over a road barrier by a woman in period dress. Actually, I lie, that happens to me all the time! Gabby and I were the only English people – and you should’ve seen the look in the eyes of the two main actors when they realised where we were from. We soon came to realise the reasoning behind their fear. I do love a good bit of audience participation though, especially when made to call out things like “Huzzah!” and “Fie!” In fact, I’m considering introducing both of those phrases into my everyday vernacular. The ship itself was hilariously fun. We got to play at throwing tea in the river! Literally, I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun in my life! But there were two major awkward moments: the first was when someone yelled, “Kill the English!” The second was what happened after the tea-throwing. In the video exhibits, the Brits suffered blatant anti-English propaganda. Loyalists were made out to be stuck-up snobs, King George III was portrayed as pompous and gluttonous to the heroic Samuel Adams, and the exhibit finished with a rousing rendition of ‘Land of Liberty.’ Y’know, that song that stole the tune to the British national anthem. It was all just very uncomfortable at that point. But nothing that our following cup of tea didn’t solve! Rule Britannia. 

Home of clever clogs.

The next day took us out of Boston and into Cambridge, home of Harvard University. I think that I am now more intelligent thanks to osmosis. We ended up in the Science Centre and I’m not sure we were allowed to be in there. Oops. There were lots of clever people around, it was very intimidating. From Cambridge, we hopped on a train courtesy of the Massachusetts Bay Transport Authority, to Salem. You’ve heard of Salem, right? They had some trouble back in the day with some bratty teenage girls who caused the unfair deaths of nineteen people by accusing them of witchcraft. Ah, community spirit! Salem is creepy on a Blackpool scale of things. It’s tacky and full of tarot readers, and I found it to be a thoroughly uncomfortable place to be. We went to a dismal witchcraft museum with poorly-crafted models and seemingly run by Wiccan apologists. As far as I was concerned, I couldn’t get out of that place fast enough.