Before leaving Boston, I had the treat of eating breakfast at Jerry Remy's Sports Bar & Grill at Logan Airport. It was good, an egg-bacon-and-Vermont-Cheddar sandwich on a crispy English muffin, which could've been a greasy brick but was quite light and scrumptious.
However, it was a little weird eating breakfast at a bar while talking to a bartender framed by his army of liquor bottles. Eventually our conversation led to him saying, in his thick accent, "I tell ya what, I went into a three-day depression aftah Brady went down. But I said, I don't care what happens, as long as we beat tha freakin' Jets."
It was like getting to have a pure espresso shot of home before heading off to parts less preferred.