Ladies and gentlemen of Boston:
The students are back.
Yes, it's that time of year again... I first noticed it this morning in Cleveland Circle, where I was puzzled by a higher-than-usual number of people wearing overpriced faux-vintage jeans and cargo shorts on a workday morning. And then it hit me... The glorious 2 months of summer when the big kids rule the city are gone, and bars will once again be packed with fake IDs and screeching groups of girls with identical hair and eye makeup, while the nightly line at your favorite takeout place/ice cream haunt/coffee shop triples and the B Line becomes a sweating mass of backwards baseball caps and Uggs. Sigh.
Fortunately, since I'll be living in the Back Bay this year instead of Allston (a.k.a. RIGHT SMACK IN BETWEEN BC AND BU), I anticipate an existence slightly less overrun by underage types. I will miss terrorizing unsuspecting students with the fabulous Laura at T's on Tuesday nights, however. Ah well... I suppose I can always pop over to Whiskey's, which is right next door, if I miss the collegiate scene that much.
And so, fair student-free days of summer, I bid you a tearful adieu. Boston belongs once again to the young, the loud, the drunk, the fratty, the backpack-toting, the obnoxiously full of pseudo-psychological musings, the clique-y, the Urban Outfitter-shopping, the so-hot-but-wait-he's-like-19, the loud cell phone conversation on the T-having, the subway pass-toting, the be-flip-flopped, the party T-shirt-wearing, the a cappella singing, the endlessly Family Guy-quoting, the cheap beer-drinking, the dance floor-hogging, the impeccably groomed and the deliberately disheveled-looking alike: the students.
Hide your Ikea furniture and your cheap vodka. You've been warned.