Heading to the office from South Station today I passed a woman on a cell phone who was walking from the direction in which I was going. Did I really hear her say the words, bomb squad? Funny, I thought, how your ears can play tricks like that. But rounding a corner, what do I see, but the bomb squad with the street taped off. Officers were already beginning to take off another officer's body armor, signaling to me at least that all was clear.
Since I couldn't cross the street I ducked down a little alley where I found a Dunkin' Donuts that was no more than a carry-out window, and lo and behold, little bronze plaques stuck in various places on the ground, like the bronzed garbage stuck in the street in Haymarket. Only, this wasn't garbage, but little plaques commemorating different places in Boston. There was the BPL, I remember, plus a lot more that I don't remember.
That's why I love the city so much: a bit of excitement that then leads you to a new discovery, one more little delightful little corner of the urban world.
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