A Day In My Life, Circa Oct. 2005 (in pictures)

Way back when, I decided to document a day in my life, with some sort of vague idea for a blog post like this to show it off to whatever minuscule fraction of the world might care. Now, over three years later, I've got a place to do so. Might as well record this for posterity before I forget what everything in the pictures is.

OK, start of the day, as you can tell, I'm a huge morning person. Hallway of my old apartment in Central Square, my beautiful Serotta on the wall ready to go. Someday it'll ride again:


Biking down Storrow Drive. Always a thrill. Can't recall how I got off of it, those left hand exits suck:


Newbury Street. I still remember that I was heading to 137 Newbury, even though it was three years ago, and I can never remember to even take out the trash. Fucking memory:


Talking on the Nextel in front of One Boston Place, back when we used the front door. I, as you might be able to tell, worked for Breakaway at the time. And I don't know what's up with the facial hair. Must have gotten lazy with the sideburns trimming:


And now here I am in front of 101 Arch. Exciting stuff, I know:


Inside 101 Arch. I've seen this shown on maps as Bussey Place, but it's clearly not an actual street anymore (being indoors and all):


Cambridge Street, near MGH. Yet another Boston construction project going on. Let's all feign surprise:


The elevator at Mass Eye and Ear Infirmary. Notice the floors go L, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, S, M, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. Friggin' M floor, pain the ass that place was:


I must be faking this. I've never been this happy to be at Mass Eye & Ear:


This is the view from somewhere in the upper floors of 10 High St. Waiting for the elevator back down:


Cash Job!! Plus tip, if I recall correctly:


Spent my tip money on coffee. If I had to guess, in Winthrop Square:


The one and only Hans Poot. Drinking the bourgeois coffee, also in Winthrop Square.


Mirrored elevator ceiling, 22 Boston Wharf Rd. This is the second attempt at this, the first sucked even worse:


Boston Design Center. When this building was built (1919, give or take a few) it was the largest warehouse in the world. The Soviets built a bigger one in the 1930s. I hate the Soviets:


The new (at the time) Boston Convention and Exhibition Center. It's, um, big and stuff:


This elevator was out of order for months. I believe Boston Wharf Company was selling off several buildings and had stopped bothering to maintain them. I can't recall the exact address of this one, Congress St., even number, around 380.


Somehow, I've jumped over to Northern Ave., with the USDC on the right. Nice little train tracks right in the middle. I don't know if all these skewed horizon shots are for artistic purposes or due to having been shot while riding a bike:


Me in front of International Place. Say what you will about Philip Johnson, the guy paid attention to the details and materials used like very few architects have managed. Also, again, it's just odd for me to have all this facial hair in all those non-sideburns places:


A reprise of Hans Poot (not his real name, incidentally), Oliver Street, heading, for whatever reason back towards International Place. The building at far right, now the Langham Hotel (and at the time Le Meridien Hotel), was originally the Federal Reserve Bank of Boston. On the left, from left, is 260 Franklin (designed by Stubbins and Associates, who, being a Breakaway client, might easily have ended up in this set of pictures themselves), 265 Franklin, and International Place. On the right, after the hotel, is 225 Franklin, one of the first skyscrapers built in Boston after they loosened up their height restrictions in the '60s or so. And, shockilgly enough, there's construction going on:


I no longer recall where this is. But it's a self-portrait of my left (?) hand and foot in the reflection in an elevator:


Look at the beautiful bike parked at 75 State Street:


Back at One Boston Place, it's Nate Puffer, truly a prince among men:


Sneaking through the Fidelity alley, who do I find but Josh and Tom having a liquid lunch. This is Boston, that's how we roll:


This is the Pilot House. Most useless caption ever:


Going up the one hill in Downtown Boston, Beacon Hill. This is Beacon Street. One Beacon at far right, followed by 11 Beacon and the XV Beacon Hotel on that side of the street. 73 Tremont and 6 Beacon on the left side. Camera tilted at odd angles to everything for, uh... artistic purposes:


I'm such a rebel. This picture was taken while riding my bike past that point:


Look, it's the Federal Reserve Bank of Boston next to a picture of the Federal Reserve Bank of Boston. Incidentally, another building by Stubbins and Associates:


Lunch time, finally. Al Capone's may not be anything to write home about quality-wise, but huge portions for the price. I still kinda miss the old location on Broad Street with no seating and pigeons walking in and out the doors, but life moves on:


Winthrop Square. Howie foils my attempt at stealth photography:


Wrong way down Lincoln Street. Weggie's is still around (red canopy on the left, if you don't know it) at the time. Yeah, The Corner Pub is cool and all, but I miss Weggie's:


Ah, the Big Dig. Remember the Big Dig? Don't you miss the Big Dig? Yeah, me neither. I was hoping to capture the flimsiness of the section at the the very top and a bit right of center, where you see the jersey barriers. That section of road seemed to be simply a metal plate bridging a gap of at least ten feet. But I never did get a good view of it:


Trying to reach Murphy, who was probably busy lecturing someone else about how they should keep the airwaves clear of extraneous chatter. I hate Nextel so much:


Delivering a tube of toner to 90 Canal Street. I should really just apologize for wasting your time with crap like this, but I won't:


Longfellow Place (thinking back, 14th floor, must have been Flavin Architects, I think that would mean 4 Longfellow Place, but don't hold me to it). Look at all those buttons. But no 13 (also no M or S floors, unlike some other ridiculous buildings I can think of):


19-25 Staniford St., possibly the ugliest building in Boston. Designed by, among others, Paul Rudolph, who was dean of the Yale School of Architecture (and not an actual practicing architect), this brutalist monstrosity was originally supposed to fill the entire block and include a 20-30 story tower, but public outcry was overwhelmingly of the opinion that the blight that is this building needed to be stopped. Somewhere inside, in the mental hospital part of the building, there's apparently the old chapel room, where a patient incinerated herself, and the room's been closed off since then. At least we don't have to walk through the metal detector to stand back in the same place just to deliver to Alien Labor anymore. OK, enough ranting:


I'm at 3 Center Plaza, looking at Government Center. Wish I had centered this better:


I think this one speaks for itself. 101 Federal Street, if, by some odd chance, someone was wondering:


I believe we this is 255 State Street. This was back in the old days when you had to swipe the card yourself, not like now, when you just tap it to the target. Kids today, they don't know how easy they have it:


Yeah, this picture just sucks. But, well, I've got the coffee in one hand, the camera in another, and the handlebars in, well, you see the dilemma here:


The work day is over. I'm just going to let my manifest holder speak for me now:


We call this the Yellow Store. They sell booze:


Back to Winthrop Square, Martin and Chem calling (probably to the Bread office). Gotta love Martin's striped socks:


Typical Winthrop Square bullshit. Howie on the right, and perhaps a clean cut Johnnie Skids on the left (hard to tell from this angle):


Sparks. I've heard this stuff is no more, as of recently. Just one of those things to make me hate the world even more:


Stopping back at the office, there are already a few bikes here, apparently:


Jacob and Seth at the office. They've moved upstaisrs since then, but I've got some great memories from this spot:


Tequila, need I say more:


The secret location of Seth's hidden tequila stash:


Well, that's all great and everything, but soon we're in Foley's. This is Nicole, one of the true legends:


And here's Amy. I don't know how best to describe Amy, but if you know her, you love her, or you're just a douchebag. That's really all there is to that:


Jen is apparently telling me a secret. I'm often good at keeping secrets, as I'm often too drunk to remember them. I ought to Photoshop this so that my teeth look reasonably white:


And, lastly, the Ballerina (note: don't let assholes like us know that you took a ballet lesson once) let me sleep on his couch, which was within walking distance of Foley's. Before I passed out, I got this last shot of myself:


Well, that was a day in my life, sometime in late October of 2005. The next morning, I woke up and it was snowing. That sucked, as I was unprepared. But, obviously, I survived.

So that was then. One of these days I think I'll do a sequel. Now that I've got somewhere to put it, why the hell not.