Day one: dumb fuck o'clock

Wake up at some damn time (4am?) to catch our flight to Boston via O'Hare. The cabby comes and we leave the lobby and, I kid you not, there are a couple of guys drinking beer in front of my building as we leave. It's like 4:45am or something. They were in their mid-twenties probably and were pretty well dressed and it was just totally bizarre. We're leaving for a major sporting event and are bleary eyed having just gotten out of bed, and these guys haven't even gone to bed yet. And one of them says, "Where are you going to at five in the morning?" and I said "Boston" and climbed in the cab.
I may have had a minor meltdown during the check in process with UA. There was a glitch. I have no patience. I am not good at obeying computers.
We land in Chicago. They have a really cool airport, but no where to sit to eat - all the places were packed.
We land in Boston. As we are waiting for our luggage I look across the carousel and see a guy in a 2009 Boston Marathon jacket and am utterly perplexed. I will continue to be perplexed until the marathon on Monday. I do not understand how people can wear their Boston jackets before having actually run the race. It seems to me to be tempting fate. And how did this guy get it? He had to have ordered it online and received it before he even got to Boston.
Weird.
Check in to hotel. Go for expensive dinner. Have two delightful beers. Watch the beautiful people being beautiful. Wander around a bit and get caught up in the crazy throng of people exiting Fenway after the Red Sox game.
Sleep in seperate twin beds cause, um, that's how we roll.