Yes, it’s been an incredible 10 years, but I’m not going to fill this post with all sorts of sappy, emotional statements about how meaningful this experience has been, blah, blah, blah. I think I’ve made that abundantly clear.

Instead, I’ll offer this link to my original post, from July 22, 2009, and I’ll provide you with a new, tongue-in-cheek story about my experiences last week.

Thanks for enjoying the ride with me. Although my posts may be further apart these days, I have no intention of stopping.

A Gathering Storm

It was decision time.

We peered into our crystal balls, which indicated that the Legion of Darkness had gathered into an overwhelming force, and it was poised to attack.

If we stayed put, even though that decision might spare us, everything we had worked for would be lost. Someone said, “We came here on a quest, and we must achieve it.”

All four of us nodded in agreement.

We emerged from our safehouse, inching forward in tight formation. The sound of war drums arose from the West. They were closer than we had thought. My compatriots looked behind us and shivered at what they saw. I chose to only look ahead, perhaps from a sense of duty, more likely from utter fear.

Our pursuers gained on us. Soon we would be overcome. We passed by one reinforced, unwelcoming establishment after another — gates locked, moats filled.

I made a snap decision. Using my superior speed, I broke formation and ran ahead.

“Mitch, don’t do it. We must stay together!”

“Trust me,” I yelled. “This is the only way.”

I saw a weathered, old sign ahead in a language I could not discern. Yet, I found myself strangely drawn to it.

With death and destruction nipping at our heels, a man emerged from under the sign. Friend or foe? I could not tell. But I didn’t have time to waste. I had to act on instinct.

He spoke first. “Do you seek refuge? Come. Join us within.”

He gestured toward the opening to a dark, foreboding cave.

I looked back toward my team, and for the first time I could see the awesome force bearing down on us from the West.

“Yes,” I said to the stranger. “Thank you, kind sir. We will enter your realm.”

The team and I stepped inside the sanctuary and watched as, within minutes, a dark wave overwhelmed everything outside our shelter. Three of us ordered margaritas, and Kim opted for a nice, locally brewed IPA.

Okay, maybe it didn’t happen exactly like that, but it did feel a bit dangerous when we went to Boston last week to take in a Red Sox game. Here’s another perspective on what happened.

John, Ann, Kim, and I sat in a hotel room one mile from Fenway Park, a twenty-two-minute walk according to Google Maps. Our iPhones told us that severe thunderstorms would soon blow through the city. If we had any chance of making Fenway Park in time for the game, we had to leave immediately. This would not be such a harrowing decision for most groups of people possessing raincoats and/or umbrellas. But I was not in my iBot wheelchair, and getting caught in a thunderstorm could be disastrous. 

As we made our way down the sidewalk, the storm seemed to chase us. Thunder and lightning broke out to our west, and it intensified.

All the buildings we passed by were brownstones — mostly residences and a few businesses — all inaccessible to a wheelchair user. I spotted a dusty old sign atop a building a few blocks ahead. It simply read B A R. Based on the presentation of the sign, this place would be a dive, but I decided to take a chance and zip ahead of the others to scout it out.

When I reached the door under the sign, an employee of the establishment asked if I wanted to go inside. I looked back and saw the wall of black clouds almost upon us and knew that we had no choice. A dive bar would be better than nothing.

I responded, “Do you have room for four?”

“We have one empty table.”

Without waiting for the others, I entered the bar and found the empty table. Soon, they joined me. This was no dive bar. This was an awesome little gathering spot, filled with a lively after-work crowd, called the Audubon Bar. The alcohol selection was diverse. The food offerings — eclectic.

As we ordered our first round of drinks, the skies outside opened up, and a deluge of rain ensued. If we had not ducked in this little bar, it would’ve been ugly, especially for me and my wheelchair.

 We ordered fish tacos, brussel sprouts, pot stickers, something called dirty potatoes, and a second round of drinks. We had a wonderful time, and then the skies cleared. We made our way to Fenway Park, and after a thirty-five-minute delay to the start of the game, we watched the Red Sox pull out a win in a nail biter.

What an adventure.