Having taken a pretty long tour of Harvard yard and the law school area, we took a quick venture to MIT, on the banks of the Charles river, but completely missed all the buildings of interest due to our very British inability to read a basic map.
A similarly laid back evening passed, until we decided to go for dinner. The original plan was to find a steak house, and having consulted an anonymous yahoo blog, we felt we had the right place.. Turns out some people have varying ideas of what constitutes 'cheap' over here.
In our desperation to avoid $30 steaks, we found an establishment aptly named 'Dicks Last Resort'. Ominous.
We were greeted by a perfectly nice 'server', who showed us to a shared bench, and the whole restaurant appeared full, which I took to be a good sign. However, as the house band began to blare music out of speakers less than a meter away from my head, I was accosted by a brashly loud middle-aged woman who, within 2 minutes, had called us pricks and manhandled my nipple. I was uncomfortable to say the least.
To prove I was not in fact a 'British pussy', as this woman would have me believe, I ordered 'chicken fry'd chicken', with a jalapeño gravy, which actually wasn't too hot. In fact it was good; what's more, the awful band had stopped and the hen party behind us had shut up. Things were looking up.
Until the hats came... So I hadn't realised that everyone in the restaurant was wearing a white paper cone-hat, with a message scrawled onto it. Or rather I noticed it, but in my horror at the surrounding events I didn't question it. Well jack and I were christened this evening at 'Dicks' - jack as the 'Harry Potter stunt double', and myself... Apparently, 'I cry after sex'.
Now I cry before bed.
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