"" bshawise: P.O.V.

Thursday, May 6, 2010


The other day I was thinking about my time in Boston, Mass. My last stint there was a truly great period of my life. I lived with three good pals, worked in the North End, ate Dunkin Donuts breakfast sandwiches every weekend, and went to "Chapel" every Friday night. We were very religious. Chapel was held at a dive bar on the edge of Boston College's campus called Mary Ann's, the last stop on the Green Line's C train. It was a veritable oasis that we piously trekked to after a long week of work for the sacraments of pop-a-shot and $1 beers. The place reeked of puke, cologne- soaked polo shirts, and spilled beer. It had the look of a 1983 bar inspired by a leaf-peeper's 1967 dining room. Browns, buttery golds, burnt oranges all twisted together and mixed with neon beer signs. It was holy.

One night, after lots of sacraments, my pal Tyler noticed a few pretty girls drinking bottles of Coronas. He approached them. I trailed behind a step to witness his game. As something awesome blasted from the jukebox, something awesome blasted out of Tyler. "You guys much really like Corona." He swayed (accidentally in beat) waiting for their reply. They didn't have one so he elaborated. "Cause these are a buck!" He raised his glass so they knew what he was talking about. They turned around and we went back to pop-a-shot.

Whenever we find ourselves around a campfire we retell this story (and many more). I thought about this the other day and wondered what'd it look like if the Corona girls also retold this story when they get together. I know they don't. But I wanted to play around with the same story from a different point of view. So here goes.

Anna is a medical sales rep and her two friends (Mandy and Eric) are moms. They're at a spa, chatting about old times.

"Remember Mary Ann's?" Anna says.

Mandy rolls her eyes underneath her cucumbers. "That place was a hole."

"Remember the jello-shot night?" Erin says. "Junior year?"

"Yeah. It was after our spring fling. You puked in the bathroom." Anna recalls.

"Everyone puked in that place. That bathroom?!! Sick." Mandy doesn't wax nostalgic like her friends.

"Remember Buck?" Anna asks Erin who nods as she sips her wheat grass smoothie.

"Who's Buck?" Mandy doesn't remember Buck.

"You weren't there that night. Buck was this guy who looked like a...I don't know, how would you describe him, Mandy?"

"He looked like Nick Lachey."

"Yeah, but a beat up version."

"He was cute!"

"Yeah. Until he talked."

"What happened?" Mandy asks.

"He and his buddies were obsessed with that basketball game." Erin explains.

"And Busch Light." Anna chimes.

"Yeah. They weren't BC guys."

"Which is why we were interested."

"Yes. We were...but..."

"He talked." Anna concedes.

"Right. Buck came over to Anna and made fun of her for drinking Corona."

"He was wasted." Anna defends Buck to Mandy.

Erin continues, "He goes, "You guys must love that Corona. Just point blank. And he just stood there."

"That was his line?" Mandy asks.

"I guess?" Erin says. "Then he lifts his Busch Light and goes, "Cause these are a buck!"

"I almost pooped." Anna laughs. "And he was dead serious."

"Why would he say that?!" Mandy asks disgusted.

"Who knows? Cause he was drunk. We turned around and ignored him." Erin explains.

"Did he say anything else? Mandy asks.

"Nope. He and his toady friends went back to playing miniature basketball." Anna says.

"And drinking Busch Lights for a buck!" Erin adds.

"Sweet Buck." Anna reaches for her drink. "Nick Lachey's poor cousin."

The Corona girls laugh and go back to relaxing in their terry cloth robes, sipping their cleansing smoothies and tapping their pedicured feet to the soothing sounds of Enya.


Steve Fuller said...

"And why was that one guy's voice so weird?" Mandy asks.

ylmurph said...

and that's why Fuller is an award winning writer

perfect ending

bshawise said...

But I didn't talk to them. They were too perty.

Brian Conti said...

Remember that time Ryan and I came up from NY and we went out to meet my buddy at Harvard? I still laugh over the memory of you and Moore screaming at the top of your lungs, "I fehl fackin' retahded in 'dis Hahvahd Bah" over and over again, just to piss off the sweaters in the corner. Good times, man.

bww said...

I want a book of just you writing your stories and then the next story be from the other point of view. I'm not kidding, I could read that all the time. Do it.

tyler said...

you forgot to give a little background on how erin often finds herself day-dreaming about what life would be like had she put down that corona, picked up that tiny basketball and... what the hey... given it a shot.