I’m aware I wrote a similar post last year around this time, but given that these events happened five years ago I felt inspired to reflect once more.
I remember 4/15/2013 like it was yesterday. I remember being an unemployed 25 year old guy chilling in his man cave with his iPad just browsing social media, watching the marathon unfold as well as trying to figure out which African country would win first place for the umpteenth time. Several hours in, my mother called me up from the man cave to help her clean some floor mats; I obliged like any loving son who was still living with their mother would. I came back downstairs to see that the news came on with the headlines “Two explosions at the Boston Marathon finish line.”
I immediately thought that this was some cruel accident; that some transformer blew as a result of electrical problems. As the story started to unfold, it was pretty clear that this was not an accident. Two bags were left at the scene and blew as soon as the finish line was crowded enough.
As I tried to wrap my head around this, my facebook messenger inbox started blowing up (no pun intended) with messages of concern from people near and far. I didn’t understand why it was happening to us, why now? Terrorism was not a foreign concept to me as I lived through 9/11; I guess I was naive for thinking that my beloved Boston was immune from something so disgusting. Terrorism didn’t just show up at our front door, it kicked it down, said lock and load motherfuckers, and gave us the business.
The problem, however, is that they kicked down the wrong door. They fucked with the wrong city. Us Bostonians are some of the rowdiest people I know. We torched our own city and went at it with our own law enforcement because we finally broke the curse of the Bambino by beating the Yankees in a four game comeback, sending us to the World Series for the first time in years. We are admittedly some of the most obnoxious sports fans in existence and will eat people alive for talking shit about Tom Brady.
We dumped a fuckton of tea into the Charles River over 200 years ago in protest of taxation. You wanna know how rowdy Bostonians are? Just ask the damn British. They also fucked with the wrong city. The Tsarnaev brothers got fucked with the long dick of the law. We locked the whole damn city down and turned everything from cars and boats over just to look for them.
That manhunt gave new meaning to T-Pain’s “I’m on a Boat.” Even with the newfound energy stired up by the FCC turning a blind eye to Big Papi proclaiming This is our fucking city, and the Boston Strong wave as strong as ever, there’s still a bit of pain left from the said events.
I often took night walks down Boylston Ave when the weather was nice; I used to participate in gaming tournaments at the Pru, when they were done I’d walk towards Copley. Those night walks haven’t been the same knowing that blood was spilled on those very streets. When you remember the bombings, it’s pretty easy to remember the frenzy and the carnage.
I ask that you take time to remember the victims, their families, the brave men and women first responders and law enforcement who put their lives on the line to keep us safe, the civilians for gave everything they had to comfort, and help those in pain. What should be a distant memory feels like yesterday.
My man cave looks a bit different, and the 32 in TV I watched the marathon, and many seasons of football on has since been replaced with a nice 46 in, but pain still remains at times. The world is a cruel place, but it’s atrocities like this that remind me that there are still good people out there.
Go out there, and give someone you know a free hug, because Lord knows we all need them more than ever.
Stay classy Boston…..
Flemmings Beaubrun is an avid gamer and lover of music. When not working, Flemmings likes to spend his time whipping up dank beats for the masses. He also spends his weekends thrift shopping for rare video games and obscure electronics. Other times he’s in front of a TV with a giant bowl of cereal enjoying shows from the 90s.