Usually I make it a point to not talk about non-Red Sox
things here. With only a few exceptions, I try not to make it look like I’m
fishing for hits by mentioning other events.
This is one of those few exceptions.
I actually had another standard-type post ready to go for
today, until I saw what day it would fall on. It didn’t seem right to just plug
along like normal. So, I decided to talk about last April 15 a bit.
I was at the Red Sox game that day. I love the Patriots Day
game. I can get up in the morning, and head out to the park. I can catch the
game, and be back home before dinner. Everyone in the stands, especially lately,
is talking about people they know in the race. They all have the race tracked
on their phones, or are getting calls with updates from people along the route.
The crowd starts thinning as people leave the game to watch their friends cross
the finish line. It’s an atmosphere that’s completely unique at Fenway. To top
it off, last year the game finished with a walk-off victory. What a day.
As usual, I headed off to the Orange line to get back to the
car and head home. When I got on the highway heading north, I noticed a police
car with lights a flashing taking the same exit heading south. Then, a minute
later, two more cop cars came flashing down the southbound lanes. Then two
more. And two more. And more and more. And more. I called home to say that I
had no idea what was going on behind me, it was apparently. something big
enough that it might make the news, but that I was north of it so don’t worry.
It wasn’t until I got home that I found out what happened.
And that was the extent of my experience. Which made me feel
terribly guilty. Obviously people knew I was at the game that day. The natural
questions in the days to follow were about where I was at the time. I figured
out that I was actually probably on the orange line. Sometimes I would catch
myself when reporting that. I’d start to say, ‘So if I was a few minutes
later…” But I knew there was no good finish to that sentence. If I was a few
minutes later…I would have been stuck in traffic? Was I really going to pretend
that was a “close call”? Traffic? Delays? Annoyances? I was never in danger. I
was never in chaos. I went happily on my way until I got home.
So I hated answering the questions. Don’t ask me. Ask the
people whose lives were shattered. Ask the people who were still running around
trying to figure out what to do. They’re the ones whose stories you needed to
hear.
I was north of it.
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