I neglected to mention in my Good Will Hunting article, that in between my visit to the Boston Public Garden and the L Street Tavern, I made a pit stop for a bit of day drinking (it really seems to be the Boston way) at a little place called the Bull and Finch Pub, better known as the Cheers bar.
Now, FULL DISCLOSURE, the year that Cheers went of the air for good, I was only 4 years old. I could sit here (in this Maine coffee shop), and reminisce about how I would delight at the arrival of a new weeks installment with the gang, how I prefer Kirstie Alley to Shelley Long (even though The Money Pit is a god damn classic), and how much I pined after that sarcastic son-of-a-bitch, Sam Malone.
Alas, only one of those statements is true. The Money Pit really is amazing.
The fact that this show was conceived of, and began, a full 6 years before my arrival to the world, that does not mean I love it any less than if I had been a part of the viewing public of 1982. I just can not pretend that I know it as intimately as someone who watched it religiously while it was airing. No matter how many old t.v. shows I love (or how many history degrees I get), there are always going to be references that just fly right over my head, and jokes that miss the mark in my infantile mind. Still though… It’s fucking Cheers! I DRANK A BEER AT CHEERS!? I CAN NOW SAY THAT MY LIFE HAS OFFICIALLY BEGUN!
Through that weather-worn door, I just know that new friends are waiting.
It was raining outside, and had been all morning, so even though it was only noon on a Thursday, the place was packed. There were 4 different rooms, each accommodating a different kind of Cheers customer. The “set bar” was upstairs, and was an exact replica of the room that any t.v.-nut of 80’s knows all too well, the sit-down restaurant room, the gift shop bar, and the regular old bar by the front door. Before I even realized there were 3 more rooms of pictures and props to explore, I grabbed the only available stool in the corner of the front room, between a quiet older couple on my left, and a bespectacled man reading a book and eating a sandwich on my right.
“Sam, you’ve changed.”
After ordering my beer (another type of blueberry to add to my fruit-beer favorites list), I sat and pretended to watch whatever sports event was on the T.V. behind the bar. I had just had a pensive morning at the Public Garden and my usual loquaciousness was lacking, and my beer had not kicked in enough yet to liven my chatterbox. But no amount of rainy-day funk could force me to pretend to watch sports for more than 5 minutes. I gave up the false effort, mustered my inner Cliff Clavin (he was always my favorite) and turned to the couple next to me.
“Where are you guys from?” I asked the woman, who was directly next to me.
“England.” she said, simply, and happily.
That was all the invitation I needed to climb that ladder out of my pit of funk (Pit Of Funk – My Do-Wop groups new album, dropping this Christmas), and ask her and her husband every question under the sun, just so I could hear their accents.
Turns out, John and Jane (seriously, those are their names. I did not change those for their privacy.) are on an American road trip fairly similar to my own. They flew into Boston, rented a car, and were planning on driving all around New England and up through Maine for the next 10 days, before returning back to Boston, and then flying back across the pond. John retired (from a previous career that I can’t recall), but after retirement, became a postal worker. Jane is an occupational therapist. We chatted about our shared love of road trips, and how perfect of a time of year it was to see this part of the world. Though Scotland and England are different, Scotland is as close to England as I have ever been, and remarked at how small those places are compared to the United States. She seemed amazed that I have driven across the U.S. from coast-to-coast twice. I marveled at how she gets to live in England. (If it were feasible, and socially acceptable, I would have stowed-away in her baggage and gone back with her and John. IMAGINE! MOXIE PIXIE REAL GIRL: INTERNATIONAL FILM CORRESPONDENT) By then, I was two-thirds of the way through my beer, and John and Jane were headed out, for they were ending their day at the off-broadway production of The Lion King, as musical theatre, turns out, was their shared love, and The Lion King, their favorite production.
I said good-bye to them, wished them safe travels, and watched them walk out the door.
Girl meets beer. Girl drinks beer. Girl meets another beer.
As John and Jane left, the man who was on my right, who had previously been reading and eating, was now finished with his meal and had put his book away. He had overheard me talking about my trip, and the movie-writing aspect of it, specifically, how I had went to see the now-called Robin Williams bench. His name was Frank, and he was a doctor from Philly who was just in town for a conference, and his flight wasn’t until later that day. I told him how close we were to the bench (it was right across the street from Cheers), and that it was worth going to see. Then, as I had hoped, the conversation continued on to movies, movies, movies.
“So, what’s your favorite film, Frank?” I asked.
“The Incredibles,” he said instinctively, without a single pause for thought.
I was in heaven. I could talk all cartoons, but especially Pixar, for days on end. Frank and I went on to agree that The Incredibles (2004) was just the perfect super-hero movie that has something for everyone.
Later, another guy sat next to Frank and I, and got in on our movie conversation. Brian was his name, and he was a math professor at a local school. Brian remarked at how much he loved the individual character development of the core family members in The Incredibles. Mr. Incredible, the father, has super-strength, and has to live up to being exceptionally strong, as the world expects all fathers to be. Elasti-girl, the mother, has to be flexible, just as all mom’s of the world have to be capable of wearing every hat there is, and are expected to be good at everything they do. Violet, the teenage daughter, has the ability to literally disappear and create force-fields, the superhero embodiment of what every teenager has wished for at one point or another. Dash, the middle child and oldest son, possesses super speed, and a penchant for trouble-making, all characteristic of middle-child syndrome. And the baby of the clan, Jack-Jack, has several budding powers, ranging from bursting into flames, to turning into solid metal, just as anyone who is the baby of a family knows, flamboyant tantrums and excessive stubbornness will often do the trick in terms of getting what you want.
Maybe I should have seen all of that detail before, since I’ve seen that movie at least 10 times, but, until Brian said that to Frank and I, I never really saw that. Pixar, circa-2004, you slay me.
As Brian became more incorporated into the film conversation that Frank and I had started, Brian said his favorite Pixar film was Ratatouille (2007), and that his favorite film, in general, was The Shawshank Redemption (1994). (Given enough time, and geographic proximity, these two guys and I could have been best friends, I just know it.)
The “set bar” upstairs, with some new faces, and not enough Woody Harrelson.
I know, that at this point, the Cheers bar is a glorified tourist trap. The Bull and Finch Pub was likely never what America and the world saw it as on television, and young, chiseled-jaw, Ted Danson was never at the helm of the tap. But, I still learned a lot of names that day, and felt at home in place I had never been before. I never would have guessed that I could have relished in talk of Pixar for an hour with two grown men in a bar, mid-day on a Thursday. This place facilitated that. A tourist trap it may be, but what are “locals” and “regulars,” but tourists who got comfortable and never moved on. I can see why anyone would want to stay at a bar like the Bull and Finch forever. The atmosphere and the conversation went down easy, like my blueberry beer, and the clientele was as diverse as it was on the show. Frank was like Frasier. Brian was like Norm. I’m DEFINITELY Cliff.
I could have stayed. Maybe one day, I will.
Interested in a local’s perspective of Boston? Rebecca (the wonderful! the sassy!) works at the Bull and Finch Pub and is a photographer in her spare time! Check out her Boston photography!
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