bark/bite

The angry tour guide is not amused by your puns. He has heard them all before in his two years of service aboard the Brig Beaver II, and it’s just pathetic that you think you’re being original.

The angry tour guide is rapidly dehydrating, as his 1773-style uniform is made of thick burlap and leather, and his black, tri-cornered hat is really good at keeping the heat in. Boston Harbor is not giving up much of a breeze today.

The angry tour guide does not want to pose with you for a picture as you toss the tea into the sea, but he will, because it is his job. You will feel vaguely unsettled later as you sit in the hotel restaurant and see him onscreen while reviewing the day’s photos on your Samsung Galaxy s8. Something about his expression.

The angry tour guide does not even like history, and you can sort of sense that when he stands before your tour group and, tight-lipped, recites his little poem without emotion: “In Seventeen Hundred and Seventy Three, it wasn’t really a matter of tea, in fact we can say without hesitation, it was more a matter of colonial liberation.”

One wonders if the original Tea Party rebels were as angry as he, on that cold December night, when they tossed the tea into the sea and sparked a revolution.