It was an unusually warm Fall evening when I stepped into the port city of Boston Massachusetts on a matter of business. I was to be lodging in the metropolis for some number of days (a week at the least, by my estimation) and I was interested to see what this hub of national repletion had to offer. I had heard many colorful stories about the great Bostonian self-sufficiency and revolutionary spirit, stories so magnificent and inspiring as to have flown all the way up to my weary worn village on the far side of the continent, arriving still full of power and flavor. So, I was energized with a desire to mine the depths of these strange enlightened people. What manner of newly…