Going to See the Goats

WilberryWent with Will to see the Mountain Goats, Will’s favorite band ever.

Plans included reliving the beef tatar at the Korea Garden. Read my earlier story about it, but remember that it’s not actually called beef tatar. It’s “Ok Doi Bi Bim Bab” on their menu. Of course I wanted to take pictures of the beef tatar experience, but I also wanted to taste it again. It wasn’t the same as last time. The pile of quivering beef was somehow smaller (it probably just seemed that way), the shock of discovery was missing, but the meal was still tasty.

The nights other adventures included a trip to theGuitar Barn, where Will was looking for an internal guitar mic. No luck, but we stumbled on to Trident Books
where we I picked up some gimics: flashcards from Nerve.com and slang flashcards (it was a theme). We couldn’t pass up a turn through Newburry Comics, where I pawed through discs looking for Apollo 440 and Kylie Minogue.

At TT The Bear’ we found the show sold out and kicked ourselves for not trying to get tickets earlier.

Rather than accept defeat and head home, we T’d to Gov’t Center and walked from there to Mass Ave where we checked in at the Virgin MegaStore. Will bought some classic Ani DiFranco CDs, then we T’d back to Cambridge to check back at TTs.

We talked our way in and enjoyed the second half of a fairly short set. It was good and I really enjoyed it. The Goats are touring as a two-man act, but John Darnielle is the creative lead of what is often a one-man-show. Sound was better than I expected, and John works well with crowds.

Somebody claimed the big dig is over, but they forgot to update the signs to I93 and we got lost on the way home. Somehow we drove past a Krispy Kreme where we found North Boston’s finest guarding one of the counters. He looked entirely too stereotypical, but he did give us good directions.

Back in Concord at the Concord Trailways bus station at around 3:30 AM, we found a shivering Asian guy. I stopped to ask if he needed help and he thrust a cell phone at me. His mother was on the line and she demanded I drive the guy to Boston.

“I can’t,” I said, not wanting to make my two hour drive home to Warren into a six or eight hour fiasco.

“One hundred dollar,” she offered, and raised to $150 when I still refused. But, there was a hotel just down the street and I offered to take him there. That seemed agreeable to everybody, so there we went. I never did get his story, or even much of any conversation out of him. Hopefully things worked out.

I finally arrived home around 5:30 AM.

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