Since arriving in Boston, I've passed two Kalamazoo College graduates on the street and run into an astonishing number of Ryan's Boston acquaintances. This certainly lends credence to his often unbelievably coincidental stories. However, the strangest encounter I've had so far was at a quaint festival in Cambridge. Ryan and I were discussing the evening's plans over free cans of Venom energy drink -- which comes in a grenade-shaped bottle and tastes like industrial runoff -- when someone tapped me on the arm. The guy, who I would later find out is named Chris, I had met less than a week earlier on 54th street and Broadway in the heart of the theatre district in Manhattan. He was passing out fliers about the 39 Steps, and as I was planning on seeing it already, I stopped to talk to him. He told me he was living in NY and trying to make it as an actor, when I told him I was doing the same thing, he suggested finding a job (like the one he was doing) that had amply flexible hours so one could take off a day at the last minute to do an audition or even a full week to fly out to LA. He was visiting a friend at Boston University and happened to run into me in Cambridge. He told me it's happened before, once with a woman in Montreal. I'm pretty sure I was pretty uncool about the whole thing because it was just so weird to run into that guy again, I couldn't believe it.
Many parts of Boston remind me of the city layout in Strasbourg, France. Narrow, winding brick roads leading up and down hills, where a side street that seemed an unassuming alleyway would prove to be an offshoot of more interesting shops and cafes. However, of course no American city would match the class of Europe's beautiful burgs: I told Ryan it was like a bunch of Americans had forcibly overtaken a French village.
Big thanks to Chris for his help! Listen to Robby Roadsteamer at Roadsteamer.com
Rock over Boston, Rock over LA (sorry Red Sox)
Motel 6, We'll leave a light on for you
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