Monday, December 19, 2011

Bridge to Cam

I saw Dario's father, the Professor, at his workplace. He's the new guy there, or really, the hasn't even started guy, so he had to look smart, which means dress like he normally does, including a jacket with the collar absent-mindedly turned in, but with leather shoes instead of sneakers.

Cambridge is still a college town despite the city real estate prices, as they've got bookstores and even a few record stores. The cars are proudly unkempt with years of parking permits crawling up the windows, advertising your tenure in ways you can't in conversation. There's organic sandwich shops with the sections of the New York Times spread amongst the tables and the Dunkin Donuts' where the panhandlers warm themselves and stare at the Massachusetts Avenue passengers through the window seats.

But my favorite part of Cambridge is the Mass Av Bridge, not just because you've gone from gown to town in half a mile (and let's not kid ourselves about the town part), but because whatever agency that regulates the Bridge has let MIT tastefully tag it. You see, as I understand it, some fraternity, two kegs deep, was discussing units of measure, as MIT students do, and decided that feet or meters or even fractions of miles was inappropriate, that the Mass Av Bridge should be measured in body lengths of their smallest fraternity member, Smoot. So they laid him out, head to toe, starting on the Boston side, until they reached land in Cambridge, determining that Mass Av wasn't 4/10 of mile, but 364.4 Smoots and one ear.


No comments: