Some days I feel like I have been sucked through a vortex into an episode of my own personal sit com. Sometimes, I drag my friends along with me. And it’s been happening for a long, long time.
Cherry Season, 1977, was bountiful. In those days, summer fruit was available in the summer, not all year long. So the different seasons were important. And cherries season in New England is the best. Warm, with a taste of summer and a hint of fall. Magic.
Bonny, my then soon-to-be-roommate and I had plans for that perfect New England summer day. We’d meet at farmers’ market downtown, buy cherries, bake a pie, and have a barbeque on the fire escape of my apartment, and top it off with our fresh-baked pie. A simple, beautiful summer day.
Well, it should have been. But you need to remember who the heroine is here. And that anything can happen. Mother Nature was involved here too. And architecture. So it really wasn’t my fault.
Did I mention that Bonny and I didn’t know each other well? It’s true. We worked at the same graduate school, but were just acquaintances who each needed a new roommate. I thought she was WAY cooler than me, and I was still a little bit shy around her. Reserved. I kept my private side to myself, covered my ass.
We met at the Haymarket Farmers Market, in the heart of Boston. It was crowded, as hundreds of people had the same idea that Bonny and I had — enjoy the day and shop outside!
Among other things, Bonn and I bought a large pallet of cherries – four quarts of the most perfect, dark red beauties. We knew the pie would be magical.
But the pallet was heavy, so we headed off to my apartment, trading off carrying the cherries, stealing cherries along the way. Off we went to the T – the Boston subway, cutting through Government Center.
Ever been there? It’s an island of concrete, brick and stone in the middle of old Boston. It seems devoid of people, like a lunar landscape. Paul Revere would have had no one to warn that the British were Coming.
Oh hell. Who am I kidding? Government Center is seriously ugly. In fact, Buildworld recently voted it the 4th UGLlEST BUILDING ON PLANET EARTH. I haven’t a clue who Buildworld is, but they’re right. Just look:
If you HAVE been there, well, you will recall that the winds that go through that lifeless brick and cement land are fierce. In the winter, you want to die. In the summer? It causes wardrobe malfunctions. At least it did for me.
You see, I was wearing my favorite summer dress. It was a pretty blue and white aline dress; the fabric fell down from my shoulders and flared out at the bottom. It was cool and comfortable. I loved to twirl in it, as there was no belt or tightened waistband to prevent the skirt from flaring out completely. I still miss that dress; it was perfect for any summer day outing. Well, almost perfect; and almost any summer day.
The wind loved it too.
As we got half-way to the T through Government Center, we rounded a corner and the wind whipped my dress up over my head, á la Marilyn. Bonny was taking her turn carrying the cherries, and I fought with my dress. But it was useless. I’d grab the hem and pull the sides down, while the wind whipped up the back. I’d catch the back, and the front would go flying up. I was flashing my underpants at half the population of Boston. I hoped they were clean. After laughing uproariously, we soon we realized that we needed drastic action. Teamwork. Our non-existent military training took over.
I took the cherry pallet and held the front of my dress down with it. Bonny walked half-a-step behind me, holding on to the sides of my dress. Progress was slow, as we couldn’t stop laughing. I’m pretty sure Magellan circumnavigated the globe in less time than it took Bonny and me to frog-march across barren Government Center to the subway, guarding the public from the sight of my underpants.
***
Bonny and I lived together for two years; we’ve been friends now for 46 years. It seems that close friendships are formed when you work together to cover someone’s ass.
FiftyFourandAHalf 
Perfect beautiful hilarious image, and great story. Yes that building is damn ugly. I’m almost definitely stealing the image of two girls carrying a crate of cherries while the wind blows so hard… it’s too good to not use somewhere, at some point, in some story. Be warned!
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Thanks for the laugh! I needed that and I can picture the whole thing. Just be grateful you had underwear on 😉.
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And that it was clean!
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Welcome back. That’s a good story and a good friend. 😘
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Bonny has been a wonderful friend these many years. I’m very lucky.
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Well, it seems you’ve been showing your ass for decades. 😁
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True, but it’s usually just metaphorically.
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Sure, sure…
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Such a great ending metaphor. Oh, that building is indeed hideous. There is a huge classroom building at my alma mater that looks just like it. It can cram in lots of people, its intended purpose, but a monstrosity for sure. Keep your clothes around you, Elyse! 😉 – Marty
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Yes, a monstrosity in the middle of Olde Boston! Yuck! The FBI and Department of Energy buildings in DC must have been designed by the same architect, as they equally hideous. But Government Center in Boston stands out, as it is on its own island, whereas the other two have other buildings to dampen the yuck!
I’ve been better about staying clothed recently!
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That is a problem with dresses! Never had shorts blow up over my head! 🙂
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Pants either. My dress days — especially ones that expose me (ahem) to compromising situations — are over!
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Now, c’mon, that building ain’t ALL that bad … in a German, Brutalist kinda ….. okay, you win! It is U G L Y it ain’t got no alibi! 😀
Unusual buildings make great stages. I’ve got tales of Sears Tower, a romantic remembrance of Reunion Tower in Dallas, and a drug-addled faint memory of being up in the World Trade Center in the late 1980s. Never been to Boston – maybe one of these days…
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You must have put your glasses on in the process of writing that comment, John!
And get writing about those stories! (Says the woman who was AWOL for years …)
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Yeah, she really did cover your ass. And as far as your non-existent military training, it’s a good thing you weren’t going commando. I hope the cherries were worth all the effort.
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Bonny has been covering my ass for years, actually. We’re great friends. But I think I might have been arrested had I gone commando. Or at least been banned in Boston!
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BAHAHA! Love this. Sweet, poignant – – and very exposing! 😂
And it’s wonderful hearing your voice, Elyse.
Hugs
Lisa from humour class
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I’ve exposed many of my most embarrassing moments on this blog. So it seemed appropriate to tell this one here too!
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What a great story, Elise!
I’ve missed you!
We lived in Boston 1978-1981, my last in the Navy before my first retirement. (ONR Branch Office.) I was
familiar with Government Center, what with commuting to work downtown from Framingham down the Mass Pike. It was like foreign duty. People there talk funny, and the traffic was similar to India’s. Looking back before merging was a sign of weakness.
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Had I been driving, I’m sure we would have run into each other! But I had no car during my days there — I travelled underground. When my parents visited and picked me up on my college campus, my Dad asked me how to get to my apartment. He was not pleased when I said “I don’t know!”
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Lovely memory Elyse. I can imagine the scene.
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Thanks. We often laugh about it.
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🙂
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