Oh man.

Got in early; middle-seat meant little sleep on the plane; made the executive decision to seek the spot for my little press event prior to finding my sister's digs and crashing. The great empty 6:30AM expanse of Logan airport was decked out in red white and blue. The town knows how to welcome 40,000 tourist wallets.

Got coffee at the airport. Saw quite a few younger people around who looked like they might have been at the Boston Social Forum. I was wearing a borrowed (and quite natty) suit jacket. Had my high-class social isolation gear: iPod and sunglasses. I am The Other.

My half-remembered mapquest directions proved to be a little off, so I got to walk all along the common, work up a sweat and get the good Boston vibes. On the green line there was a fairly attractive young blonde girl still sporting a Dean pin. I took it to be a sign.

Got to the hotel; more coffee; paid way too much for net access; way too much for breakfast (but I think I saw Mo Rocka) and finished Danny Goldberg's Dispatches from the Culture Wars. Panel was an eerie reflection. There are a lot of passionate, intelligent, professional people working to help mobilize the youth vote. I just wish so many of these fine folks didn't refer to young voters as "they."

Rambled to Allston. Slept too much and dreampt strange festival dreams: bus rides and petty crime car chases; a reunion party and young Frank Zappa. I'm headed back in to the city now to see what's shaking.