BloggerCon: Frank Paynter

It was great to see Frank last night, even better to leave the party with him. The spring night air was great outside the noisy Durgin Park restaurant hubbub. See the thing is, Frank and I both write over here, so as the night gets later and the partying gets harder, we get bored -- we don't drink. We strolled the ancient bricks around Faneuil Hall and headed up to Government Center. It's the first really lovely spring night in Boston in what feels like 800 years, after a hellishly cold winter. Everyone was out and happy and funny and silly. It was terrific.

I'd parked on Beacon Hill, on the edge, so it gave us a little evening walk -- always nice -- and then we found the car -- found no ticket -- hosannah! -- and headed our wheels along Cambridge Street bricks towards Harvard Square.

The oldies station was on -- Frank, hope Pretty Woman by Ray Orbison wasn't cranked TOO loud -- but I love the radio. The Longfellow Bridge has the Boston T subway like a zipper running right up the middle of it, as you cross the Charles River on a fine spring night. They'd hauled all the skyscrapery costume jewelry out for the glittering night -- the rhinestone necklaces in high windows dotting the skyline -- ladies dressed up for the evening across Storrow Drive -- and shining VERY bright were the lights from the Red Sox game over at Fenway, across from Frank's hotel, The Hyatt, with their "to-die-for" view of the river, as we pulled into the driveway.