Living near (and for many years, in) a city of such historical significance as Boston, I have a fairly woeful track record for actually visiting the places that make it so. When I worked in Boston and commuted from home, I walked by many of them but never really visited. From what I can tell from talking to other people who live in or near such places they're in the same boat.

I did make a positive effort to correct this the Monday after my 5th high school reunion. This very topic came up when I was talking to a couple of former classmates (neither of whom live in the area anymore), and we decided to get some of this history stuff under our belts. Nothing as formal as walking the Freedom Trail, just hit the city and see what happens.

And what happened, as you might expect from a group of guys in their early 20s, was as much an investigation of downtown watering holes as it was a trip into America's past. We did go to Old Ironsides, the State House, Fanieul Hall, and walked by many of the other famous places. But we also stopped at the Bull and Finch. And at Dockside. And at one or two other places somewhere between North and Back Bay stations. Wasn't as bad as the famed Fourth of July pub crawl (which crawled in the literal sense, and come to think of it wasn't that famed at all), but much of the post meridian portion of the touring was inspired (if not fueled) by not a small portion of beer.

Which led to its own problems. We wouldn't have stopped at the State House except that they were offering free tours. The tours are apparently given by high school kids who get some sort of credit (or an in with a hack to write a glowing college recommendation or something) for giving them. I feel sorry for the two women who had to take us around Charles Bullfinch's finest creation, mostly because we were probably not "respectful" enough, especially for a tour that actually took us to the House and Senate floors (in retrospect, that was very cool).

But what really brought this topic to mind today was last Sunday's recreation of the Boston Tea Party. My friend Denise, being of historical bent and having special interest in the Tea Party, invited a number of us to the recreation. So it was that we gathered at the Old South Meeting House for the "debate" about what to do with the tea sitting on British ships in the harbor.

A local group of colonial-era recreationists played the major roles. They were actually quite fun, into their roles without the forced gravitas that the Civil War recreationists often take. We were encouraged to participate by booing, hissing, and yelling "No taxes!" at certain points. This caused my friend/boss Laura to note that it was "like the Rocky Horror Picture Show, but without the garter."

We also had a character card in one of our programs, which included a name and some text that we could read as part of the debate. As it was a damn dirty Tory character, most of us refused on principle. The one Tory in the group refused on the grounds of not wanting to speak in public. As it was, most of the character cards were read by kids, which seemed fitting.

After the debate, there's usually a procession down to the Tea Party ship, where chests are tossed into the harbor. However, the ship and museum had a little fire this year, so there was no procession. Instead, a fife and drum corps played some tunes outside by the Irish Famine memorial across the street. I know, most folks call it the potato famine. You can still call it that if you want. I don't care.

We followed this bit of history with another Boston tradition: Italian food. Waled over the North End, had a nice meal at a restaurant whose name I can't remember (never can, it seems). Service was slow, but nothing near the abysmal waitstaff we had at Vinny Testa's for the college bowl semester ending social. Desser at Cafe Vittorio, one of the sites of my first date with Sarah, a fact that, when raised, led to a cross examination that was only missing a bare bulb and buckshot-filled length of garden hose.

Anyway, should you not be doing anything next December 16, mosey on down to the Old South Meeting House. Admission is only a buck, which is a small price to pay. Unless you also get one of the tri-cornered hats they were selling, which were cool if too small for my cranium.