If you’ve had enough of the Boston scene and are craving an aural adventure with mettle (not metal, ahem) and authenticity, Nova Scotia has it going on.
You will never see my ass on one of those fucking buses again.
"Boston bars are very smart. There used to be such a divide. [But] there seems to be a bridging of the gap between the town and gown, of the two Boston's."
“The big thing for us is taking small ideas and seeing how we can build [on them],” says Maul. “But not with gimmicks. We're looking at the future of drinking, [and how] to just make a better drink.”
Be it Davis Square in Somerville, the wild shoddy badlands of Allston, and even the nooks found around Fenway Park, what you're about to read is a story involving intoxicated buffoonery all conducted at your favorite (or not-so-favorite) local haunts, be it drinking in public outdoors (but just for a photo), allusions to shooting pornography, and even men in ruffled shirts becoming threatened by small children drinking out of coconut shells in close proximity to them.