If Norm chose to visit Cheers (a/k/a the Bull & Finch Pub) today, chances are his seat at the end of the bar would be occupied by somebody named Sven. The fact is, not only do the people at Cheers have no idea what your name is, they’d be pushed to hazard a guess at which continent you’re from. Just over the river, at the Plough & Stars in Cambridge, the opposite is true. The Plough crowd is small enough that the regulars get to know your name, the name of the first person you ever slept with, and the name of that person’s high-school English teacher.

Plough & Stars, (617) 441-3455.

The Make Way for Ducklings statue, in the Boston Public Garden, is awfully cute. Even cuter are the roughly 400,000 toddlers who clamber over it on any given day. Those who prefer to gaze upon waterfowl without the added charm of photogenic preschoolers might want to head down to the intersection of the Boston University Bridge and Memorial Drive, which, for the past few years, has been home to a flock of white geese. The spot also attracts drifters, drinkers, and sundry bohemian types, who aren’t quite as cute as the kids or the geese, but who keep the tourists at bay.

Charles River Rangers, (617) 722-5445.

It can be difficult to lose yourself in Rachmaninoff’s Symphony No. 2 when you’ve just had a stunted septuagenarian elbow you in the groin at the concession stand. This is why it can be wise to forgo the Boston Symphony Orchestra every now and then in favor of musical fare a little less illustrious. The Greater Boston Youth Symphony Orchestra (GBYSO), for instance, offers audiences a chance to hear wonderful classical music without having to battle somebody’s grandmother on the way in.

GBYSO, (617) 353-3359.

Okay, so it’s not exactly the Hoover Dam, but on days when the Esplanade seems about to burst, the Charles River Dam, situated behind the FleetCenter, offers blissful respite from the smell of suntan lotion, the tinny ting-ting-ting of headphones, and the cries of "On your right! On your left!" Indeed, there are few people who would dare peruse the dam’s flood-control pumps carrying a portable stereo, and fewer still who would care to admire its fish ladder wearing roller blades. Though it’s possible that the herring, smelt, and shad that bustle up and down the ladder would holler "On your right! On your left!" if they could.

Charles River Rangers, (617) 727-1188, ext. 445.

In this town, if you enjoy sports but hate crowds, you’re out of luck. (There is actually a little-known passage in Revelations that describes the cheap seats at Celtics, Red Sox, and Patriots games: "If thou dost not get a lapful of sickly beer, thy foot will surely be trod upon.") At New England Revolution games, however, crowds are not a problem. Although New England’s soccer franchise has one of the highest attendance rates in major-league soccer, a recent match against Chicago drew about 10,000 fans to the 68,000-seat Gillette Stadium. If you seat yourself just right, it’s possible to attend a Revolution game without once seeing another human being.

New England Revolution, (877) GET-REVS.

It’s an awesome feeling to walk the grassy slopes of Bunker Hill, the site of one of the watershed battles of the Revolutionary War. It would be a lot more awesome if the Battle of Bunker Hill had actually taken place on Bunker Hill. In truth, the Battle of Bunker Hill took place on Breed’s Hill, which is where the Bunker Hill Monument stands today. So what’s on Bunker Hill? Not much. But who cares? While platoons of tourists gape at what they think is Bunker Hill, you, having climbed the real Bunker Hill (a quarter-mile away from Breed’s Hill), can wallow in the smug certainty that geography, if not history, is on your side.

Bunker Hill Monument, (617) 242-5641.

Trinity Church, in Copley Square, is a nice church. But there are lots of nice churches. More to the point, there are lots of nice churches where the suffering of Christ takes precedence over the aching feet of tourists. Mere blocks from the Trinity, on Shawmut Avenue, is the Holy Trinity Church, a very nice church indeed that is much overlooked by sightseers. In fact, while the Holy Trinity is the only German Catholic church in New England, it’s likely that, on any given day, the other Trinity boasts more German people per square inch. Not that there’s anything wrong with Germans — it’s just that sometimes you want to admire the stained glass without a chorus of bewundernswerts echoing around the nave.

Holy Trinity Church, (617) 426-6142.

Anyone who has shopped at Filene’s Basement knows that it can feel more like a professional football game than a shopping experience — except that most players in the NFL tend not to use their fingernails. To avoid being mauled by your fellow bargain hunters, get to the store as soon as it opens on a rainy Monday morning, grab the first thing that catches your eye, and get the hell out of there before things get ugly.

Filene’s Basement, (617) 348-7848.

If you want to gain insights into the populace of Boston, you can’t beat the T. Riding the Green Line, for instance, can be a wonderful way to become acquainted with someone’s armpit. If having a complete stranger’s coffee breath on your cheek is not to your taste, you can try using those odd-looking, slightly smelly things at the ends of your legs. Boston is a great walking city, but there are risks involved — being run down by a Duck Tour vehicle while the passengers quack in horror, for one. But there is nothing more glorious than standing on the Mass Ave Bridge, gazing across the water at the Red Line trains trundling over the Longfellow, and knowing that somebody on that train is having an open newspaper shoved into his or her face.

With its large and irritating student population, Boston is a great place to go clubbing. No matter what your musical tastes, you can squish yourself onto a dance floor and make minuscule body movements that vaguely resemble dancing. To shake one’s thing all the way down to the ground without running the risk of gouging a fellow reveler’s eye out, however, you’ll need to hit the clubs during the down times. Try trip-hopping on a Tuesday. Wave your hands in the air like you just don’t care on a Wednesday. But unless you enjoy being vomited on by BMW-driving youths, steer clear of Saturday nights. Stay in. Watch MTV.

Boston Phoenix club listings.

We love our sports here in New England. We love our sports so much, in fact, that we even have our very own sports museum: the Sports Museum of New England. When you go to the Sports Museum, you will be surrounded by the most devoted, and possibly the most gullible, sports fans in the world. You will find them oohing at Nomar Garciaparra’s locker, aahing at the Boston Garden Penalty Box. It can get pretty emotional in there at times; if you find that you need some alone time after Larry Bird’s shirt, do this: try to find a picture of Carl Everett. Stand in front of it. Enjoy the solitude.

Sports Museum of New England, (617) 624-1234.

Since the advent of roller blades, enjoying Boston’s waterside parks has become a life-and-death experience. For a truly secluded and relatively safe day beside the water, take your book and your blanket to Deer Island, conveniently located in the middle of Boston Harbor. If the book’s no good, you can pick up and go on a tour of the Deer Island Sewage Treatment Plant, and see how Boston takes care of business.

Deer Island, (617) 539-4248.

Local lore has it that there are a number of confused motorists who have been trying to navigate the Big Dig since the project began, back in the early 1800s. On quiet nights, you can hear their unearthly howls and unprintable imprecations ringing around the city. To avoid this fate, stay clear of the Big Dig, no matter how tempting the opportunity to stare into a giant hole may be. The fact is, there are plenty of Little Digs in Boston. They can be hard to find at first, but they’re there, if you know what to look for: a police officer standing around doing nothing; a pile of dirt; a guy with an unusually pronounced ass crack. There will be delays at these Little Digs, but as soon as the police officer can be bothered to raise his arm and wave you by, you should be on your way again, in search of the next hole in the ground.

SmarTraveler, (617) 374-1234.

There is nothing more frustrating than becoming a forgotten diner. You’ll be sitting there, completely bread-free, watching in helpless horror as the couple who sat down 10 minutes after you did finish their desserts. Complaining will do you no good, either. In fact, beleaguered wait staff will often leave critical customers — or, in industry parlance, "those fucking pains in the ass" — for hours on end with little more than a hastily poured glass of water to keep them alive. But there are ways around this regrettable situation. Have dinner at 4:30 in the afternoon. Refuse to dine at any restaurant with a chef more famous than Jack Nicholson. Travel out of the city — to Athol, say, or Moose River, Maine.

Boston Phoenix food and drink coverage.

Anyone who uses the phrase "dead quiet" has obviously never been to Boston’s Granary Burying Ground. On any given day, you’ll find hundreds of sightseers videotaping the graves of Samuel Adams, John Hancock, and Paul Revere. How anyone can get eternal rest under such conditions is a mystery. A far more dignified graveyard experience can be had at the Forest Hills Cemetery, in Jamaica Plain. With its little lake, abundance of trees, and winding paths, the cemetery feels like a bit of the countryside here in Boston — albeit one with a bunch of dead people lying around. One of those dead people is e.e. cummings, who once wrote "i who have died am alive again today,/and this is the sun’s birthday."

Forest Hills Cemetery, (617) 524-0128.

Of course, in a place like Boston, it is ultimately futile to avoid crowds. The fact is, we’re stuck with them. But there is a final, last-ditch strategy one can use in order to get a little summertime alone time. On July 19, Boston’s Park Plaza Hotel will host a Fetish Fair Fleamarket. While the fair itself can get somewhat busy, your brand-new nipple-exposing chain-link shirt and PVC chaps will ensure that for the rest of the summer you can go wherever you please, whenever you please, content in the knowledge that from now on, the crowds will avoid you.

Fetish Fleamarket, (617) 876-6352.

Chris Wright can be reached at cwright[a]phx.com