Patriot's Day

So I knew I had arrived in Boston on Patriot's Day, the day of the Boston Marathon, when, after checking into my hotel, I ran across the street to grab some food and there was a gal sitting on the curb swaying back and forth with various stains from various beverages on her blouse.

She was complete with a worn-in Red Sox hat above her plump face. On my way back out of the store, she's still there, cross-eyed, sitting on the curb, so I ask her if she needs some help, if she's ok.

She says yes...I think so. I say, so are you a bit drunk? She says yes. So I ask again, can I help you at all? I notice she has the key to her VW something-or-other in her hand and I let her know it's not a good idea to drive tonight. Again, can I help you? She says...just help me up, please. So I help her up just as a Boston cop drives up. He gets out of his car, looks me over and watches her stumble away, shruggs his sholders....Patriot's Day.