What is one common thread found in any given townie? Is it that we drive horrible cars? No, that's not it, for there are too many luxury vehicles that can be stolen from nice suburbs. Do we all like to fight? No, some get too drunk for this thought even to occur, and some just aren't tough enough (yours truly). The common thread, the undeniable facet of life in Medford - and Boston in general - is that townies and Massholes from all over absolutely love the Red Sox.
With this in mind, it would be an absolute sin if you came to Tufts for four years and never once entered the confines of Fenway Park to take in a Sox game. There's no excuse for it. People always say that tickets are completely impossible to come by, and yes, it is hard and sometimes expensive to purchase them before a game.
Outside of Fenway, there are more scalpers on Landsdowne Street than in the Battle of Little Bighorn - I think one of the scalpers might even be named Squanto. Even if you don't get a ticket, stop down there before a game for some lunch. Yawkey Way is renowned for its vendors and food carts, so if you're looking for a good sausage, don't look for Ron Jeremy - look for Fenway.
The environment inside Fenway is absolutely one of a kind. Sit in the bleacher seats for the game, for it's the closest you get to feeling like you're in a prison cafeteria. The people out here are normally the townies I warn you about in the local bars.
One time, I sat behind a couple that was Route 16's finest. Judging by the dialect of their accent, I'd say these two spent their childhoods in either Lynn or Revere, so I knew I was in for a treat. The guy was rocking more gel in his hair than a male stylist at a local salon and wearing a skin-tight "Jeter Swallows" T-shirt. He was also the tannest person in existence - he may have even been orange.
The girl was actually pretty classy: knee high boots, daisy dukes riding up so high that you could find more crack there than in Dorchester, a button-down jersey that was completely open showing a lacy red bra, and about nine different (visible) piercings.
They smelled like a bottle of vodka with too much cologne on, and by the fourth inning, they were kicked out for being too vulgar. Now, being too vulgar at Fenway is extremely difficult to do, considering nearly all cheers revolve around some raunchy sexual joke: "Get off your knees, ump, you're blowin' the game!" or "Hey ump, does your wife know you're screwin' us?"
When you go to a game and you are planning to drink, it is imperative that you bring beverages for the T ride. On more than one occasion I could be found with friends on the Red Line with one of those huge mugs for excessive coffee drinkers, and it was most definitely not filled with coffee. If you go sober with the intention of getting drunk, you will literally spend close to 80 dollars - that's a lot of lap dances.
If you're not a Sox fan, don't root against them at the game. People in Boston are oversensitive when it comes to the hometown team, and if you shout to Big Papi that he's the worst, at least three beers will "accidentally" spill on you, and every physical aspect of you will be critiqued by the townies. It's just an aggressively stupid move to
pull.
However, if you're a Yankees fan,
disregard that last sentence - I guarantee you won't be harassed whatsoever if you rock an A-Rod jersey or one of those haughty "Dynasty" T-shirts. In fact, I think people will be nicer to you (wink, wink to Sox fans).
Visiting Boston without going to Fenway is like visiting Paris without seeing the Eiffel Tower or Rome without seeing the Coliseum - or Brockton without going to The Foxy Lady.
Fenway is Boston's most prized possession and the most authentic experience an outsider can have: I have never once gone to a game and not had a great time, and you won't either, and you don't even need to like or understand baseball to get into it. Fenway won't be around forever, and you'll rue the day you saw "Failure to Launch" with some girl rather than being at a 12-inning thriller with the Mariners.
