The two parties had agreed on a pre-arranged pass-phrase to recognize each other: "I thought there was video golf here." They were both too embarrassed to utter it in Tom English's crowded tap room. After all, everyone was watching the Sox. No one in their right mind goes to Tom English's to play video golf. They never had a golf machine anyway, that was the giveaway. They had a deer hunting video game but even that's been replaced. There is now a dart board in its place which promises more collateral damage and fodder for late night, high jinx- related conversation.
The crowd was so focused on the televisions, they weren't eavesdropping on what two nondescript ne'er-do-wells were saying to each other. No matter, our men on the Dot instantly recognized each other. This bit of cloak-and-dagger seemed over the top so they just shook hands and ordered Pabst drafts for $2.50 a glass.
Tales and insider information was shared along with a few jests but no tears. These were 21st century men meeting in a public locale. They weren't the bricklayers or roofers or electricians that make up Dorchester's old economy. They represented the new Boston's creative class. Not much difference really in how they conducted their interpersonal business. The old Dot is like the current version: two people meet over pint glasses, ideas are exchanged, some plans get tentatively hatched. One thing leads to another. Dorchester, like the rest of Boston, is made up of buildings and neighborhoods and business zones and residential zones, but at its core it is made of people who decide to work together for a common goal.
Was anything accomplished? Not yet. In time, perhaps. Keep your eye on the Dot. Dorchester is rich in human capitol. If anything will change in Boston it will start to move in Dorchester.
Here's a link. Here's some food for thought:
No comments:
Post a Comment