When I was in my final months of living in Boston, I couldn't wait to get out of the city. If I didn't leave, I'd have run screaming down Comm Ave with a Supersoaker filled with red paint, spraying everyone in sight. If I hadn't gotten out, I seriously would've done some damage. I was sick to death of the sight of the place. Two and a half years later, I don't think there's anywhere else in the world I'd rather be. Seeing the Red Sox take Game Three of the World Series while watching with a friend/co-worker who's also a Sox fan was great, but should they clean up... well, I'd be surprised if Boston is still standing the next day. And when the Sox won the ALCS, I got a few drunken phone calls from friends in Boston who wished I was there to celebrate with them. What I wouldn't give to be in that crowd when it gathers to celebrate a World Series victory -- the first in 86 years. Although I'm counting my chickens before they've hatched... the Red Sox haven't won yet. On the other hand, we have Spokane, where I spent my weekend. Not exactly the most urbane place in the country. Homeless people were panhandling on several street corners -- some even in the same intersection. The Hell's Angels brazenly have their meetinghouse on the main street, with a sign hanging out front with their logo and everything. That said, Spokane still has some redeeming qualities (besides the fact that my best friend lives there). It's got a great Mongolian barbeque where we went for dinner on Sunday called "Hu Hot" (which I've been referring to as the more colorful and fun name of "Ho Hut"). And only someone with a great sense of humor could come up with this. Hint: Read the "We gladly accept" part on the door.