The Tartan Army have thanked the city of Boston for its hospitality in a free full-page advert in The Herald 🏴 🇺🇸
Scotland fans made a hugely positive impression on the city, attending Boston Red Sox matches at Fenway Park, donating to charitable causes and decorating the city's statues with traffic cones.
A full-page advert in the Boston Globe thanked the visiting Scots for their contribution to the city, and the Tartan Army have been given a free full-page advert in The Herald to respond in kind.
Read the full letter 👇
Home time. The USA have been fantastic hosts! We’ve loved the welcome from every city and state we’ve been in 🇺🇸
If you want to hate the world, watch the news. If you want to love the world, travel it. 🌎❤️🏴✈️🇺🇸 #scotland#fifaworldcup
America is now paying foreign aid to 177 countries. And Congress just shipped another $50 billion.
It's an odd way to run an empire when Washington's cutting checks to basically the entire planet while Americans buy groceries with credit cards.
Even though no one scored in this game and it ended in a 0-0 draw, I still had a lot of fun today going to my first World Cup game with my brother (@jpoole347)!⚽️👍🏴🇬🇭
I went to In-N-Out and ordered a cheeseburger. The cashier, a calm young woman named Destiny, asked me a question I did not expect.
"You want that Animal Style?"
I paused.
I did not know what this meant. But a samurai does not admit he does not know. So I answered with weight.
"...Animal Style."
"Cool. So that's mustard-grilled, extra spread, grilled onions, pickles. Yeah?"
I understood now. This was a sacred permission. For one meal, I was being told to put down my manners at the door. To eat the way a beast eats, without shame. I had waited my whole life for someone to give me this order.
"Yes," I said. "I will become the animal."
Destiny did not blink. "...Okay. You want your fries Animal Style too?"
I stopped. Even the potatoes?
"The potatoes also become animals?"
"I mean, they get cheese and sauce and grilled onions, so..."
"Then yes. Let the potatoes abandon their restraint as well."
"...Got it." She was the calmest woman I have ever met. "3x3, 4x4, or just the one?"
I did not know these numbers, but I knew a challenge when I heard one. "How many must I face?"
"It's, like, how many patties you want."
"How many is the most honorable?"
"...Four is a lot."
"Then four. A warrior does not ask for fewer."
She wrote it down without argument. A 4x4, Animal Style, with animal fries. She warned me once, kindly. "That's gonna be huge." I told her I was counting on it.
It arrived. It was a tower. Cheese and sauce ran down my hands the moment I lifted it. There was no clean way to eat it. There was no dignified way. That was the entire point.
I ate it like a beast. Both hands, no honor, grilled onion on my chin, and I have to be honest with you, it was the best thing I have ever put in my mouth.
For thirty years I have kept my manners at every table in the world.
They handed me a burger and told me to be an animal, and I have never felt so free.
So tell me, America.
The whole country knows the secret menu. What else are you hiding in plain sight?
And "Animal Style." Was I eating the animal, or finally becoming one?