
Look at those faces. Look at those sweet smiles and those happy cheeks, scrubbed cleaner than a nun's hands, looking simply jovial as they hug one another and embrace Fenway Park, the heart of the Boston Red Sox. Remember those faces as I tell you the story of how they destroyed an entire city in four days.
Chapter One: Subterfuge

Oh what sneaks we were, planning for months to come out to Boston to surprise our dear friend Kelly. Conversations about visiting one day in the distant future slipped off the edge of our cunning tongues with the confidence of a seasoned spy. Oh Kelly, we'd sigh, how much I miss you. I only wish I could visit you soon, but it's just not possible! How easily the game was played, when disaster lurked around every corner in the intoxicated mouths of Steve/SJ's friends, freakish weather, and chance disturbances in our plan. As the plan moved along more and more smoothly, we felt sure the surprise would be spoiled and our fun ruined. However, as Kelly entered Parish Cafe it became clear to us through her look of terror and confusion that she had had no idea of our plans, and even clearer when she bared down and screamed as though birthing a child in the Middle Ages that she was indeed thrilled by the surprise. We talked and laughed and cried and held each other, the six of us (Emily, Jada, Kelyn, Caitlin, Me and Kelly) for as long as it took to believe that we were not only there, but we were there together.

Within 7 hours, two of us would be screaming at a Domino's employee while waiting for [REDACTED] to be released from what he referred to as "THIS PRISON!" (when it was really only an average jail cell) while the remainder of our group tried in vain to direct a lost cab driver around streets we'd never seen before. Friends were made (we'll never forget you, Bark) as well as enemies (at this point we were introduced to Yuck-Toe) as the night gave way to morning and those sunny, ecstatic faces crashed into pillows and cushions with the force of falling giants.
Chapter Two: I Am A Disgusting Human
When the first man crawled from the slime of centuries past and cells evolved, his body retching on the earth and his lungs taking their first breath, he declared, "I AM MAN." This was kind of like that, except way more off-putting. We clambered in our dresses, underwear, and each others' day clothes to recap the missing portions of our night. There was not a shower hot enough to wash away the events of the previous evening. Still getting used to our newly-evolved limbs and cognizant brains, we slowly dressed and emerged from our cave in bright yellow uniforms ready to conquer a formidable day.

Breakfast and 10 minutes of a BC football game later, we were tailgating and playing ridiculous (read: too difficult for me to win) games while an unnamed mother kept serving us finger foods and bite-sized Snickers. We walked along the reservoir and through the surrounding neighbors, repeatedly asking, "Steve! Wassat?!" in our childish wonder, momentarily forgetting the pain of Yuck-Toe and Bark, marveling at this new place which was shining its sun on our backs and guiding us with its breeze. We marched on to Fenway Park, gently (read: incessantly) teasing the Yankee-loving Jada about the many ways she could enjoy a Fenway Frank, occasionally looking out to the bright field to check that the game was still progressing as we enjoyed surrounding company much more than the roar of the crowds.

About two bars and something called a Scorpion Bowl later, we drifted off into the night and lost each other to various open doors and passing cabs. Our expeditions were rehashed over coffee and sandwiches in Harvard Square; we weren't allowed on campus because, unfortunately, we forgot to bring our tuxedos. The night drifted into Mojitos and flip-cup (because those two things match)and ended listening to the tall-tales of a man named Tex who smoldered in the corner of the bar with the mystery of someone with a name like Tex. Many voices were lost to the bar that night, as extemporaneous photo-shoots ("Be a tiger! Be a velociraptor! Jessica, get out of the picture!") and high-school era songs from Weezer inspired shouts of joy and suffocating laughter. Caitlin, on the other hand, lost hers to the streets of Boston as she shouted lessons in anatomy for the benefit of all passersby.
Chapter Three: To All The Boys We've Loved Before

We passed the morning with Sister Mary Clarence of "Sister Act" (which could easily be converted to a thrilling drama if the score were changed from campy ragtime music to something less ridiculous) and packed slowly to drag out our last moments together. I was certain the shedding of tears would wait until we arrived at the airport, but was jarred to see Kelly stop mid-stride on the staircase as though she were fighting back the urge to say something to all of us. Caitlin and I looked up to her, asking, "What's wrong Kelly?" as she began to giggle. Her smile widened and her breathing deepened as she doubled over in laughter, ignoring our inquiries. Instead of answering, she held up a single finger as though to say "Give me a minute." As if given a cue from God, Jada declared in anger, "WHO THE FUCK FARTED?!"
As I sit here, still laughing, I realize that at that moment I knew we had just capped one of the greatest conquests in American history; Los Angeles had come to Boston and our presence will forever be felt.
So to all the Steves, Sweet Lous, Jareds, Matts, Marks, Mikes, Cams, Rosses, and all other mono-syllabic men whose visions of women as those smiling, kind, timid creatures were destroyed: we salute you. You now know that the giggling, curly-headed girl you know as Kelly did not come from the same slime as any other human. She came from the hurricane of Los Angeles that carried us five Marians (with special guest Yuck-Toe) to your town, the same hurricane which whirls and laughs and dances and shouts and doesn't mind tossing around a building or two. You are brave survivors of Hurricane LA, and as you begin to rebuild your city piece by piece, wear your battle scars with the pride of men who have seen it all. And you should probably build a bomb shelter in your basements in case you should one day see it again.
