Springtime in Boston

Congratulations. You survived winter in New England. If it was your first winter in Boston, you no doubt have come to realize how much of a soul-sucking time of year November through March truly is. The seemingly endless darkness, the relentless wind, the unceasing chill; the only people who still celebrate the fallacy of the fairy-tale New England winter are the legions of transplanted Bostonians who flee the cold weather like they owe it money.

No matter how much of a dent global warming has put into Mother Nature’s fury, winter in Boston is still a miserable time of year that forces all of us to question why in the hell we actually live here. There are many among us who have sat at the computer as our windows frosted over searching for homes in North Carolina, Arizona, Florida and California, growing more and more furious as we realize that for the amount we pay for a one bedroom condo in the city we could buy a small county in the South.  

But we haven’t suffered for nothing.  There is a reason we put up with five months of weekly “Storm of the Century- It’s the Apocalypse” stories from the local news. There’s a reason we learn how to navigate the wind tunnels of downtown Boston like we’re Steve McQueen trying to escape Stalag Luft III. There’s a reason we risk hypothermia waiting for a cab after closing.

Because spring in Boston makes it all worthwhile. There is nothing like spring in Boston. Like manna from heaven, short skirts make their reappearance after months of hibernation. Dunkin Donuts iced coffee knocks breathing down a notch on the list of essentials to live. Windows are opened and fresh air actually enters your apartment.

If you’re new to a Boston spring or if the frigid winter has temporally frozen your memory, here are the sure signs that it’s springtime in Boston and some tips for getting the most out of this glorious season.  Keep these facts in mind and you’ll be guaranteed to soon forget that you got frost bite walking home from the bar in January.

• Quick- run to Tia’s, it’s above 50º, for the love of God, get to Tia’s as quickly as possible! There is no surer sign that it’s spring in Boston then some dude in your office is clawing at the door at 4:15 on a Thursday so he can be the first guy in line at Tia’s. I am utterly hopeless when it comes to explaining Tia’s popularity- it’s crowded, overpriced, understaffed and I’ve never met someone who has ever been there who doesn’t say the exact same things. But for some reason, the first time I get to wear a golf shirt to work, I can’t help but make the mad dash to the waterfront to pay $7 for a lukewarm plastic cup of Miller Lite. Damn you, Tia’s!
• Under the auspices of the Mayflower Compact, as a resident of the Massachusetts Bay Colony you are allowed to shove hapless tourists out of the way as they meander down the sidewalk, staring at the mysterious electric lights we have here in the big city. Spring in Boston means tourists in Boston but you can use it to your advantage. Being rude to tourists is a generally harmless way of blowing off steam if the Sox lose. Want to shatter a child’s innocence in seconds and you aren’t a card-carrying NAMBLA member? The next time some kid in a Duckboat uses one of those stupid quack things, flip the little hick off. You can never be too young to learn the harsh realities of city life.
• Since September, you’ve been cursing the fact that Boston is a college town. Noise, trash, popped collars- college kids just complicate your life. Hell, by March, even the college kids are tired of the college kids. But there’s a reason why all the middle-aged guys are suddenly walking around with shit-eating grins on their faces- college girls are gloriously unrepentant about how much skin they show off. No more parkas and corduroy. It’s time for those jaw-dropping old school gym shorts that college girls wear to every event from Sunday brunch to their grandmother’s wake. The city of Boston should install foam bumpers along all of the city’s roads, like in bowling alley gutters, so that guys driving can safely ogle passing college chicks in tiny shorts without having to worry about swerving off the road.
• Boston is not a big dress code city. Sure, every bar and club in the city tries to pretend that they have a dress code but for the most part the only reason they post a sign about “required dress” is so they can keep you and your eight shit-faced friends from coming in and sucker-punching the first guy who beats your score in Buck Hunter. But in the spring, the Boston bar dress code becomes even more lax. Why bother with sneakers when you can wear flip-flops? Shorts and t-shirts easily outnumber the khakis and button-downs at every Boston watering hole. Every time I go out in the spring, I embrace my inner-Shoop. You should too.
• The work week ends on Wednesday. There are many businesses in Boston that have summer-hours and end their workweek on Thursday but let’s be serious- if your workweek ends Thursday then Wednesday night becomes the new Thursday night and you always go out and get lit up on Thursdays in the spring so expect Wednesday to be the last day you do anything productive at work. Also, Mondays don’t officially begin until Tuesday at 1 PM.
• The term “roof deck” is very, very subjective. Most of the roof decks in Boston are shams. They throw a rickety bar and three tables on top of the tar and pray that no one plummets to their death after one-too-many Cape Codders. The quest for a solid roof deck that doesn’t fill up by 3 PM every Thursday, Friday and Saturday is legendary. If given a choice between keeping an underappreciated roof deck all to themselves and ending world hunger, most Bostonians would choose the roof deck. And the ones who didn’t would just say world hunger because they were trying to get laid.
• You suddenly have friends. I know that my friends and I take a sabbatical from each other from the Super Bowl to Red Sox Opening Day. We trade the occasional email or text message, see each other for a drink or two once a month or so but generally want nothing to do with each other. We need a break. We’ve been going strong for months. Baseball season turns into college football which turns into college basketball which turns into hockey which turns into the NFL. Throw in weddings, summer vacations, 4^th of July, Labor Day, Memorial Day, Halloween, holiday parties, New Year’s and assorted playoff games and by March, I’ve had my fill of my beloved friends. But once the weather gets nice, I remember that I actually like hanging out with them and start returning their calls again.
• I have no greater secret joy in the spring than my nighttime ritual. I log onto espn.com, click on major league baseball and check out the standings. Then, I sit there and bask in the glow of the last-place Yankees. And dream sweet, sweet, Yankees-free October dreams.

Jamie Chisholm