LOST BOSTON VIRGINITY: “I CAN ASK MY PARENTS.”
I’d been a college student for roughly two months, and was continuing to revel in the absence of curfew, parents and rules. Though not a Red Sox fan, I unflinchingly joined my freshman buddies (and the entire undergraduate population) after Papelbon made the final out of the 2007 World Series, racing past the SWAT team lined up along the outskirts of Northeastern’s campus in our quest to Fenway Park. Yelling, laughing, and pushing people along the way, we arrived at the intersection of Ipswich and Boylston to a scene of epic proportions: a drunken mass of “rioters,” complete with idiots flipping from street lights and trusting the crowd to catch them in a crowd surf-like fashion. Not entirely sure whether to be appalled or excited, I quickly made my decision when a mounted cop (that’s a cop on a horse) began herding the crowd using her 1,000-lb vehicle: time to run home.