It has great restaurants, a few good night clubs and lots of over-educated comic book/art school geeks (my kind of folks...) But it's heartwarming little stories like this that make me remember why I ran screaming from the place in the first place.
It still has all of that. Of course, it also has the additional thrill of most of the people working for the city not speaking English.
Moments later one punched me in the face and the other jumped on my back. My only recourse was to run into traffic on Tremont street with this maggot on my back. He apparently feared for his life and let go.
I lost a pair of Armani glasses, but that was it.
The best part was that the guy was wearing a fluorescent pink hat and had a huge pot leaf tattooed on his arm. After a short ride with the cops, I was able to identify him even without my glasses.
This puke had been paroled less than a week. right then I began plotting my escape from Massachusetts. Atlanta may not be great, but I can carry a gun.