We've been told a few things over the years: "You were speeding" (Texas; I was); "There may be nudity" (Oregon; there was); "Hey! No photographs!" (Massachusetts; OK, fine). But this was the first time, I think, that we've been pressured to leave a public place. That place was Fuller Field, in Clinton, Massachusetts, on the back end of our recent Patriots Day Weekend trip.
I felt a little bad for the young and doughy camp counselor who asked us to leave. He seemed genuinely pained, confused, and maybe even a little scared. He was wrangling a cluster of, I don't know, maybe twenty little kids, and I get that the sight of a couple retirement-age dudes emerging from a dirty old sports car to wander around nearby wouldn't necessarily fill him with joy.
