Wicked Good Fun

PRIDE

JEERING AT THE YANKEES
We love the Red Sox too much. No other sports team—not even our excellent Patriots—can bring Bostonians to the same rabid, shuddering heights of passion. No matter how proud we may be of our culture, our history, and our new Jimmy Choo store, none of that's worth a wad of Trot Nixon's chaw. We have seen the graven image, and it looks like a World Series trophy.

To score prized Fenway tickets, otherwise strait-laced citizens will go to shameless lengths, dropping both legal qualms and little Johnny's college fund (it'll be worth it if he catches a foul ball!) to buy scalped tickets from the fat guys milling around Kenmore Station on game days. It's telling that the only crimes every Bostonian is happy to countenance are speeding and scalping.

Those wanting to flaunt both Sox pride and disposable income gravitate toward field boxes catered to by personal servers. With unobstructed views, these are usually considered to be the finest seats in the park. But nuts to that. Ever since they put seats on top of the Green Monster, we can't think of a better place from which to watch a game. Face-value tickets range from $25 for standing room up to $130 for a seat in the front row. Plus (and this is our favorite part), grandstand sections 32 and 33, located down the left-field line next to the Monster, are alcohol free. So we can get all lubed up and not only boo opposing outfielders, but also (literally) talk down to the sober people in the cheap seats. Nothing makes us feel as self-important as talking down to someone. (Official channels: 617-482-4769 or redsox.com. Unofficial: Try www.aceticket.com, www.stubhub.com, www.ticketsnow.com, or www.ebay.com.)

BASKING IN YOUR CHILD'S HARVARD DEGREE
They call it dropping the H-Bomb: the awkward answer to the unassuming question "So, where do you go to school?" Many Harvard students, trying to sound blasé about it, will simply mumble "in Cambridge." But the rest of us can see through this. "Harvard" is the password to a club most of us can never join, and, even more so than Crimson students and alums, the parents of Harvard undergrads bask in it, wearing their pride like, well, a hooded Harvard sweatshirt.

Since boastfulness this fierce does not come easy—nine out of 10 kids who apply get that heartbreakingly skinny envelope with the rejection letter—status-seeking moms and dads will gladly chuck their egalitarian pretenses to give their spawn an edge. They obtain the services of private admissions counselors like Keith Berman, president of Cambridge's Options for College. "Fifty percent of admission is based on what your child has been doing for the past 17 years," he says. The other half? we ask with bated breath, a few Benjamins at the ready. "It's how he presents himself on the application." So it's never too early to start on the squash and sitar lessons, though we recommend the tykes be out of diapers first. (617-372-5313, www.optionsforcollege.com)

FLAUNTING YOUR ZIP CODE
Not all postal routing numbers are created equal. A ZIP code is shorthand for a person's income, sensibilities, and choice of neighbors—and residents of these locales take particular pride in flashing their return address:

02138 (Harvard Square) carries a clubby whiff of postgraduate degrees, liberal credentials, and money.

02130 (Jamaica Plain) is out and proud about its multiculturalism, ecofriendliness, and lefty rep.

02446 (Brookline) implies good public schools, good public transportation, and lots of private money.

02467 (Chestnut Hill) is all that plus The Country Club. It's likely where your doctor lives.

02481 (Wellesley) boasts clean streets, ample square footage, and a "W," just like its neighbor Weston (02493). Oh, and money.

02127 (South Boston) trumpets working-class credibility, vibrant Gaelicism, and many newly renovated condos.

02554 (Nantucket) suggests a salty, Brahmin flavor, one that's pro-nature, but anti-alternative-energy-projects. Also, lots of money. The summer address of choice.

02108 (Beacon Hill) says cobbled streets, famous neighbors, and impossible prestige. And money, money, money.

---