Last Friday afternoon in Boston, a couple walked up to the small group that was waiting for the mega bus to head out to NYC. They seemed a little disoriented and frustrated. It didn't help when I told them that the line formed behind me. Not my usual style to speak up, but I guess living in the city has had an effect on me.
The husband looked like he wanted to jump me and his wife tried to calm him down by offering him a cigarette. He was probably in his mid-60s and she looked like a botoxed 50-something. Yes, he was my elder but it was his sense of privilege that bothered me.
She, without being asked (but appreciated by me!), started venting about the long day they'd had. They were afraid they'd miss the bus after being given wrong directions in Hyannisport.
Segue to the conversation in my head: "Hyannisport? Like where that morning they'd buried Eunice? That Hyannisport?!"
So, using my in-depth reporter style I asked the hard question, "Isn't that where the Kennedys live?" And she bit, "Yeah, we went to the funeral. My husband's best friends with Arnold."
Now, for you recent out of the cave folks, Arnold would be Schwarzenegger, husband of Maria, daughter of Eunice, the late sister of John, Robert and Teddy. How cool, huh? Then I thought, why the hell are you on the $20 mega bus if you're pimp tight with the Governator?
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