The Holy Day of Obligation in Beantown

Enough about the history of my ancestral roots in Boston and onto the party. Turns out the Mrs. thinking that now that she is sporting an Irish last name could hang with the big dogs and was going to go back to Boston and throw down like an Irishman (woman), boy was she in for a surprise. First off we did the smart thing and took the train into town knowing that no Irishman in his right or wrong mind should be behind the wheel of a car on this day.

We had also been following with great anticipation of the countdown to the big day since the moment we arrived in Boston.

Our first stop was at a club in town called Boston Rocks, where we partook in a few Guinness and shots of Jamesons.

Then it was off to our final destination where we dropped anchor for the rest of the day the Beantown Pub. The same place where you can drink a Sam Adams while looking at him.

Here is the Mrs. drunk dialing a friend at 1 PM

And after what most of Bostonians would call the warm-up I had to drag the Mrs. through the streets back to the train and back on the train.