We re-aired the Gagliarchives 8th Annual Nearfest special with Chad Hutchinson from March 4th by wide request, and a much needed vacation. The weekend began Friday morning at 7:15 a.m. I never get up before 10 so this was clearly going to be a challenge. But eager to get away, and only hitting the snooze once, I got up and prepared myself for a long trip with Rohario and Cindy up Interstate 95. Adrenaline was in heavy doses as I did the ever popular 'last minute' checklist. I am always late. Always. But this morning was somewhat different. I had to be at Roger's by 8 a.m. So my time usually means 8:15 to 8:30. By 9 a.m. we were off. It was truly a beautiful day. The temperature was to be about 70 in the Philadelphia area which is unseasonably warm for this time of year. I felt it was a good omen. After just 2 stops on trip up, we arrived in Boston by mid-afternoon. My New England accent began to kick in and I was ready to be in my element.

A Day At The West Roxbury
Baseball is religion in Boston and here's why. We stopped off at a rest stop about 30 minutes from Boston to take care of business. I needed coffee, Roger and Cindy needed hugs and kisses. As I approached the counter of this shoddy stop, I asked the woman where I could find the joe. She smiled and said "Ya nawt from uhrand heeya ah ya?" I said "No actually, I am from the Philadelphia area." She looked at me like I had Locusts crawling out of my ears. Almost as if, she had never heard of the city. "Do you have coffee here?" I asked. "Right theya...I just made a paht." The sludge poured out like motor oil from the dingy thermos. I needed a cheap high. It worked. She then began telling me about the rookie prospects that the Sawks have in their bullpen and their new hitters, while rehashing on the 2004 World Series. I thought it was cute until I said, "How about your Patriots, they are amazing as well." You would have thought I farted. She looked at me as if to say, "Who are they? Who cares about them?" Even her assistant looked at me as if I robbed the place, or as if I was dressed as Boy George at a Klan rally.
As we arrived into Boston on that sun littered day, the prequel was about to begin. Our meeting with Neil. Neil is Boston. Like Ben Franklin is to Philadelphia, Neil is Boston. When you open the dictionary, it should say Boston, and then a photo of Neil with a sound byte of him saying, "Let's stawp deoun at Dunks fa sum keyoffee" (Translated - Let's stop at Dunkin Donuts for a cup of coffee.) Neil is the husband of Roger's wife's sister, Chrissy. Follow? Neil and Chrissy, are a warm couple who server as great hosts as well. If only my life could be as cool as theirs. Their cute, new house features 430 dogs that are either, sleeping, eating, or biting you. Neil is a big kid. Neil is a Boston fireman. Neil is the equivalent to the cool dude in the neighborhood who was older than you that had all the great stories of partying and the T-Shirts to prove it. We hung around the pseudo-basement with a Stein and talked about taxes, dishwashers, and living in Boston. After eating some great Pizza and reading spray painted Spanish/Irish messages on the wall, we then proceeded to head towards Wayland. Driving with Roger can be very scary. Especially if he asks you to read the driving directions. It's almost like driving with your Dad who is silently ready to blow a gasket because of the nonsense going on in the back seat.
Driving in Boston is a nightmare to begin with. There are no street signs on the main roads. It's like driving in Southern New Jersey where main roads change names 5 or 6 times as you go. Your best bet is to throw salt over your shoulder when you leave to go somewhere. There are people who live IN Boston that don't know how to get around. Boston makes New York look like a Sunday drive in the country. It's almost like they don't put the street signs on the main roads so they can keep the out of towners out. There has got to be a class they teach, or a course that gives you papers that say "I officially know how to get around Boston just by perception, and not by Maps." Maybe that's how they sort out the 'wannabees' from the 'have no clue's'. At least I know why there is a dunkin donuts on every corner.

Did they ever return,
No they never returned,
And their fate is still unlearn'd,
They may ride forever,
'neath the streets of Boston,
They're the men who never returned.

The Meeting Of Duke
When we arrived in Wayland, our buddy Matt was there to meet us. Matty did production work for our program from 1995-1997 before he ventured into the trials and tribulations of life. It was roughly 5 years ago when Matt left us officially for Beantown. In your journeys in life, you always have that one friend you wanted to be like, or look up to. Matt is that person for me. I have never really needed someone to look up too because I always felt that I am the ruler of my own domain. I make the decisions in my life whether good or bad, or whatever the circumstances may be, and deal with the outcome. Matt has never been afraid to make major life changes. He has always had a plan and was never afraid of the turnout. He may say or act like he is stressed, (which I have never seen) but I know deep down inside he unconsciously loves it. Matt is a motivator. Almost Tony Robbins like, only without the boring middle of the night 3 hour infomercial. In all seriousness, Matt is an inspiration and a smart, well spoken person who is not afraid of risk. Right before he left for Boston a few years back, we had one last all nighter that drove us to Apple Pie Hill in the pines with a 12 pack of Red Stripe. Anyone who is anyone knows there is a fire tower at the top of that hill. And anyone who knows me knows I am scared to death of heights. Never was until I turned 13 and unexpectedly fell two stories from a log into a creek. Hey, things happen. At any rate, Matt and I met up at the tower and started drinking waiting for Rohario to get done work and meet us. Matt proposed questions about what my plan would be for the next year. His questions made me ponder things about myself. Matt started walking up the tower. I followed him and rattled off all my plans I had, or things I at least *wanted* to do. As I followed him, I was getting higher and higher on the tower. The highest I had ever walked on it in all the years I had gone there. No one could have gotten me up that high without holding a gun to my head. But Matt calmingly just continued to ask me questions like what route the radio show would go, my career, where I was going to move if I did etc., the next thing I knew, we were one level from the top. I could hear the metal creaking, and the wind piercing through me. My anxiety came

over me and the breathing started when Matt quietly said with a smile, "You came this far, you can make it." I suddenly became calm. I never forgot that. I had finally seen Philadelphia and Atlantic City from the top. Matt was the inspiration. Sounds cheesy to some, but to me, it meant the world. But that's Matt. Matt came to Boston and quickly acclimated to the change. Cool job, great friends, cool apartment, and ultimately a cool and beautiful girl in Kerry who he would later marry. Matt has it all, and is painfully humble about it. His home was beautiful as well. Set in the woods of Wayland, the hardwood floors and the new addition in a yellow Lab named Duke completed the picture. Our first night in was a night of big plans that went all for naught as we caught up on the missing time. I'll bet The Middle East in Cambridge didn't miss us.

A Visit To Big Bob's
I woke up to getting licked. I thought maybe it was Roger who can't resist me, or maybe Matt missed me more than I thought, but alas, it was Duke. Matt's house had the permeating smell of Eggs and Bacon. It is probably one of the best smells in the world to wake up to. Maybe next to smelling Ken Golden's Prime Rib being smoked. After eating up and watching Duke the wonder dog rush back in through the dog door after being zapped by his collar, we left for Big Bob's. Or as I affectionately called him, Big Bob NORTH. Big Bog SOUTH is in Eastampton, NJ. Long story. At any rate, we arrived in a small neighborhood to a house packed with Irishmen. All were glued to the TV watching preseason Red Sox baseball. This is something you would NEVER see in Philadelphia. After some beers and talking about Construction and people passing out besides the back shed, we returned home to get ourselves ready for the nite in Boston. Along the way, Matty slipped. The New England accent came out while saying the word 'there'. It came out as 'theyah'. I was floored. Matt is officially a New Englander. Where did the time go?

Viva la Bostione!
It was 6:00, and I was already spent. I made myself look pretty and we left for the heart of the city. Bill's Bar was the choice, after the thought of heading to Providence was trampled. I was prepared for the bitter cold with my wife beater, t-shirt, thermal long sleeve and my turtleneck. Why do you ask? My thought was that we would get to Bill's, and we wouldn't like the band, which meant walking. When we walked up to the front of the club, the sounds that came out were just too much...Matt and I looked at each other and without a word said, we knew we weren't going in there. No way. The next thing you know, we were in Jillian's. I went from bitter cold, to burning up. I almost got dizzy in the contrast. Jillian's was packed. At this point, I am teetering between not drinking and just waiting to get back home, or forcing myself to go out with a bang. The 23 year old awakened. I decided to ditch the beer and talk to an old friend. Vodka. I went Grey Goose this time, and the night did a 180. I had a blast. Nice third floor deck with heat lamps that brushed away any concept it was 35 outside. After convincing Chrissy that she still was a Jersey girl, grinding with Roger, and interacting with some Fenway statues, we began the journey back to Wayland. We arrived just in time to hear the final few minutes of the show down in Philly, and commenced partying. Pete Palma called us to round out the night.

The Land Of Rock Walls and The Queen's Monarchy Ends
For some bizarre reason on this trip, I became obsessed with rock walls. Everywhere you looked on I-95 on either side are these mysterious formations. I have always been fascinated, especially of late, of the terrain in New Jersey. Once we were into Connecticut, you started seeing these so called property dividers of stone. It sounds amateurish I know, but I was spellbound by it. I learned that rocks literally sprout from the ground in the New England area because of weather, ground expansion, thawing etc. and these stone creations are everywhere in Massechusets. It's like common to have driveways lined in huge stones. Even Matt has them. For pete's sake Neil and Chrissy have a quarry down the street from their house. There are alarms that sound before they blast away. Enough of that rant....by the time midday arrived we rapped so more and I checked the numbers on Saturday night's show. I got some great emails as always from our listeners including organizing some interviews and pumping some concerts coming to the area in the next few weeks. I had to stop when I realized that I was on vacation. An hour had gone by. Matt and Roger awaited word on where we would meet Neil, Chrissy, and Cindy to have our final meal in Boston. My weekend diet consisted of bread, Buffalo chicken peices, Brioschi, and Beer. Oh and more Beer. And then there was Vodka. We left for a town called Braintree, and a restaurant named Jimbo's South. I thinkprobablys point we were all burnt. Food would probably put all of us into shock. We arrived at the former train stop and knowing that there is serious seafood involved on the menu, I made sure I sat next to Neil. I mean hey, wouldn't you? He's from Boston for Christ's sake. Not to mention he got bonus points with me on the Pizza from Friday. I took his advice and ordered the Bacon covered Scallops. It was disturblingy good. The guy that figured two of the fattiest things that humans can eat should be mixed together should have won the Nobel Peace Prize. Or something. I thought my heart was going to stop right there. I actually had to rest after the 5th one. Anything with Bacon is good. If I had it my way, I would have Bacon in little zip lock baggies at strategic locations throughout my apartment. Just so I know it's always around. If I was wealthy, I would hire a person to just sit in my house and strictly fry bacon 3 times a week. I know that's extreme...but seriously, don't tell me when you are biting into a piece of good hickory smoked bacon, sizzling but not burnt as it melts in your mouth... you wouldn't at least consider it. Neil suggested the Lobster Scampi, but my Jedi instincts told me to go with the Seafood Alfredo. It may have been one of the greatest things I had ever eaten. Well, at least at the time. We then pondered the desert menu and looked at plastic cakes and talked about the 'next' time we come to the area. When it came time to go, Neil suggested we hit some bars. After having that fun the night before and paying for it earlier, part of me thought. "Well, how late would we be?" Then reality hit me. Dude. You need sleep. Once we got back home, Roger crashed on the couch with Duke, Matty was out before his head hit the pillow. My turn right? Not happening. I was up till 3:30. That was when the reflection began. Did I enjoy myself? Of course I did. A weekend with no drama, no radio show, no phone calls, no responsibilities, no babysitting of phone reps, no Instant Messages, no corporate humdrum, no gossip, no emails, and most of all, no schedule. A flash back to the old times which transferred perfectly to the present, just in a different setting. It was a weekend of good, true friends with no bullshit or agenda. That's why I love these guys. That's why I took the day's off. They mean the world to me. I couldn't pass this up. I almost got bummed knowing we would have to pack on Monday morning. I really didn't want too. Which is always the way I feel when I come to New England. Especially Boston. I wanted to stay a few more days. Usually when I am winding up a trip I am usually very eager to get home. Not this time, or any other time I have been in Boston. Sounds corny but, part of my heart is in Boston. So what if it's the most Liberal state in the Union, I still love it. I will just never read the newspaper. Or talk to anyone for that matter. I think I could make it there. I fell asleep with visions of Bacon covered Scallops dancing in my intestines.

The New London Fog
Monday morning was a blur. I woke up, and the next thing I know I am showered, packed and watching Becker. We got ready to leave the house when I noticed how dreary the day was. We had beautiful weather all weekend, but now I decide to take photos of Matt's house. That's me. We left to pick up Cindy from Neil and Chrissy's when we had three important things to do

1. Find ice for Roger's cooler. (If not people will die)
2. Find coffee. Preferably Dunkin Donuts.
3. Get smokes
4. Keep Roger from getting lost and killing people on the way.

#2 came first. We were able to find a Dunks within 9 minutes of our drive. I asked for a medium extra/extra and a Bagel with everything w/Butter. What did I get? Packets of butter. Apparently they don't put butter on your Bagel in Boston. Something you have to do. Hmm. #4 happend next. Roger and I drove in West Roxbury for 20 minutes in a complete circle. Roger's breathing started and the radio was turned off. We were lost. Even with directions you CAN'T FIND ANYTHING IN BOSTON. Roger and I passed the same school in West Roxbury 3 times. Finally we found the house, and there was Neil, this time without the work goggles. Cindy and Chrissy pulled up and Chrissy got her Dr. Pepper fix. You can tell that they enjoyed each other that weekend. We were then off to I-95 and to try and find #'s 1 and 3. It was a success. No trip would be complete without a Filet O' Fish sandwhich from McDonalds. Well...at least for this trip. We hit some light fog and drizzle on the way back, but then, by the time we got through Connecticut and Allan Holdsworth's new 2 CD compilation the weather warmed. We burned through NY and were on the Garden State Parkway by 6:15. We arrived at the Lily homestead and packed my JEEP. After I chased the 26 cats off and out of my JEEP, I was homebound. I took the windows off and let the smell of the Jersey Pines engulf me and reassure me that I was home.

I know I left my mark in Boston. My Seafood Alfredo leftovers are still sitting in Matt's refrigerator.