Patriots, Running Men, and Hitler

Today is a day off in Massachusetts. It's Patriot's Day, which actually has nothing to do with football, but around here I don't think anyone would be surprised. Boston is known for fake holidays. About ten years ago they started getting a little stricter about it, but yeah-- we'll take a day off for a wind change.

When people who aren't from around here ask, I always tell the tale of a brash young Minute-Man who was chased from Hopkinton all the way to Copley Square, and captured by RedCoats at the Boston Public Library's location on Boylston street, where he was boiled alive, and thus was the street named.



Which is a pretty cool lie, I like to think. Actually that's the route of the Marathon, which is the real reason for the holiday, even though nobody ever wants to admit it. Maine, our big brother to the north, also celebrates the day, while everyone else is scratching their heads wondering what the heck is going on. Look... we made up Evacuation Day and Bunker Hill Day, too. It's not our fault you guys can't get together and lie to your governors.

So what was the line we gave to get the day off? The first battle of the American Revolutionary War was fought on April 19, 1775. So we celebrate the Monday closest to that day by getting drunk, watching people run, and wandering around Fenway because there's always a game. Plus, tomorrow is Hitler's birthday... we could always lift a pint to celebrate him being dead.

Evacuation Day may be my favorite local holiday. It celebrates the leaving of troops from our shores, only it doesn't. It's just a made up holiday so we can have a Saint Patrick's Day parade. Once again, traditions involve drinking. I don't drink, really, but I love watching other idiots do it.

So yeah, anyway... gotta run. It's Patriot's Day. Plus it's an extra long weekend, too, and I have to get ready for Dead Hitler Day tomorrow. I was happy to blog on a holiday... cuz I lurves ya!