A Very Quincy Birthday

12 Apr

For some reason, this blog is dedicated to Peter Clarke.

I asked some of my Facebook blog followers what I should do tonight to celebrate my 5th anniversary of turning 21. I was not surprised when the first comment, as well as the most liked comment, suggested that I do Oxycontin. Defeated, I decided to make my own list of shit I can do (that is not Oxycontin) in Quincy to make my 26th birthday as unmemorable as my 1st birthday, and just like every other weekend spent in this fine city. Here it is:

1. Pills. You know, I’m not in the mood for a full blown addiction after my 18th birthday. Let’s scratch number 1.

2. Pregame. Perhaps one of Quincy’s (and every other city in America) most beloved ritual, the pregame gets us feeling *nice before venturing out into the depths of the local dive bar scene. Just get a twelve of probably some form of Bud product at Atlas, because for some bizarre reason just one or two beers before going out is never enough, and sit in someone’s mom’s living room until 10:30 at night before calling the cab company that will not be named but described as “the one with the really bitchy operator” to pick you up.

*nice: unnecessarily drunk

3. Bar hop: Ew, way too many Randolph people are inhabiting some of the Quincy Center bars lately. I mean, I don’t know if they are really Randolph people, maybe Stoughton, but same difference, I think.  So get one beer at your first bar, then complain about how trashy everyone is and how people are dancing in a non-danceable bar, and then head to the next bar (usually located right next door or directly across the street). Repeat this step until you and your friends are in no state of mind to make general observations anymore and are squinting in S6 wondering why it’s not tinted blue anymore and grown men who don’t even work there are screaming at you to get out (side note: no disrespect to S6, place is my favorite in QC, but I had to express how confused I am when it goes from being tinted blue to normally lit so suddenly).

4. Decline Peggy’s &/or JJ’s: Nothing against these establishments (the last time I gave my opinion about a bar, I was nearly sued. And by nearly sued, I mean psychos with zero sense of professionalism were inboxing me on Facebook about “contactin someone” – I think “someone” meant lawyer, but the spelling was too hard to conquer), but nothing good ever happens after last call in Quincy. Then again, one could even argue that nothing good ever happens before last call in Quincy either…so there’s that. But another factor you might want to consider is if you feel like getting coked out of your brain or not. I pass on putting things up my nose, so I tend to decline a trip to a place where I know nine out of ten people will only be happy to see me for unnatural reasons. In my defense, ten out of ten of those people are people I don’t want to see sober or not. Avoid the hangover and skip the after bar. Besides, if I rush out of the parking lot too fast to go somewhere else I might miss a *Quincy fight.

*Quincy fight: A gang of 2 or more manchildren jumping another manchild for looking at one of them the wrong way 4 months prior while trashed in a crowded bar.

5. Fall asleep with a JBC: Nothing says regret like waking up to Wendy’s in or around your bed. Wait, I guess waking up with a JBC next to you on the floor also says regret.

Sounds like I’m going to have a pretty solid birthday, no? And many more to look forward to. Is it lame to stay in?


Disclaimer: Don’t inbox me accusing me of making Quincy look bad with this blog. I love my hometown and if you can’t laugh about some of it’s weirdness or flaws, then you are probably someone who listens to Dane Cook during long roadtrips to lame places.


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