Holy Cannoli! Ricotta bliss, via MBTA

Mara and I were in search of food. Canolis, to be precise. Oh, sure, theoretically we were on assignment for a magazine, investigating avenues and options for students who want to broaden their cultural scope by sojourning into the greater Boston area. But what it really boiled down to, for us, was a serious Dessert Quest.

The #1 bus seemed to be the most direct path to the highest concentration of food. (Actually, the best front door-to-dessert ride in town can be had on the T to Quincy Market. But since this column is called Bus Stops, we decided to play by the rules and take the #1 into Back Bay instead. You can catch it at Johnston Gate.)

The first cool thing we encountered was a tasty little store called "Sweet and Nasty" on Mass. Ave. between Newbury St. and Common wealth Ave. It featured all sorts of gadgets and toys for the perverted-at-heart. These included everything from the usual glow-in-the-dark condoms and chocolate body paint, to a life-sized doll named John, sporting a battery-operated, vibrating member.

The specialty of the house seemed to be edible, anatomically-correct treats. "The Breast Cake is definitely our best selling item," said Amy, one of the employees. Mara and I reluctantly decided that splurging on a cake would be kind of extravagant, so we picked up a couple of chocolate penis lollipops and headed out. Of course, the lollipops were for our friends.

After about ten minutes of walking up Commonwealth Ave., we hit the Public Garden, a major landmark on the Canoli Pilgrimage and, incidentally, a nice park. We cruised past the statue of Mrs. Mallard, Mack, Quack, Lack and the rest of the ducklings. We then headed up Beacon, passing the Common, where a really bad band was giving a free concert.

By the time we ran into City Hall Ave., we were getting kind of pooped, so we stopped for a break at a store called Brookstone. This turned out to be a great move, since the hot item at Brookstone these days is the Electric Massage-Giver. They come in every shape and size, and for all imaginable body parts. Okay, so they don't carry an electric earlobe massager. But they have just about every other kind.

I won't drag you through a tortured description of all the machines we tried to use (i.e., broke), but I will issue this warning: unless you've always wondered what it feels like to be electrocuted, do not stand up on the electric foot vibrator. The sensation will be similar to that experienced by the little boy of electrical fence fame in "Jurassic Park."

We left Brookstone with relaxed necks, feet, tushes, and backs. Our hairstyles, alas, were less sedate. After the foot vibrator incident, we both resembled Bart Simpson after a fight with the mouse can.

By now we were really starved. We descended on Quincy Market like a pack--well, a pair--of wild dogs. In case you've never been there, Faneuil Hall is an indoor/outdoor market that houses a veritable cornucopia of food, food, and junk food. A lot of junk food. The most important things to remember, however, are salsa and canolis.

The salsa stand is in the center building. It has every flavor of salsa ever invented, and a few that probably should have remained uninvented. Go for the free samples, but bear in mind: just because it looks like a harmless bean dip, doesn't mean it won't blow your face off. This really happened.

After clearing our sinuses at the salsa stand we made our way to our final destination, an Italian pastry stand we like which serves up a mean canoli. We bought five. Mission accomplished.