Our day in St. Michaels progressed into a day of browsing the shops on Talbot Street. When we're in a water town, it's mandatory that we pick up at least one crab related item. So, once I helped Tina find an interesting-looking crab sculpture, I knew my daily shopping obligation was fulfilled. Right on queue, my buddy Joe mentioned that the Eastern Shore Brewing Company was a few doors down. Joe and I struck an agreement with the girls that we would sample a few of the micro-brews while they continued to shop. This, my friends, is known as a win-win situation.
As Joe and I make our way towards the brewpub, we are greeted by a guy wearing an ugly Christmas sweater. He tells us that this bar is the place to be and invited us inside. He seemed like a trust-worthy guy to us, so we took him up on his offer. (It turns out that the guy was also the manager). We walked up the steps and through the main door where we were met with a barrage of activity. The crowd was alive and festive as they cheered for a guy who was playing music at the far end of the room.
After grabbing a couple of St. Michael's Ales, Joe and I found an open spot near the center of the room. We were greeted by another ugly sweater wearing guy who turned out to be the owner. He introduced us to his large St. Bernard who was also wearing a Christmas sweater. I've seen some big St. Bernards, but this dog could have eaten Cujo for lunch. It was kind of strange to see this gigantic dog laying in the middle of the floor with all of the activity and noise going on around him. But he seemed perfectly content.
After progressing through a few familiar cover tunes, the musician set down his acoustic guitar and picked up a fiddle. I knew things were about to get serious now. He started into a Dave Matthews song and the crowd responded with approval. As the guy wailed away with his bow, a man and woman broke into a strange Irish dance of some kind. It was actually kind of cool. It reminded me of the scene in "Titanic" where Joe and Rose sneak off to party with the common folks (Ok, I'm a little embarrassed that I can name the characters from the Titanic).
As time moved on, I realized that the girls were still out shopping. I started to worry because they could potentially rack up a serious tab in those little shops. Of course, the girls were probably equally concerned about the bar tab Joe and I could run up in this place. So, to take our mind off this stressful situation, I ordered us another round of beers.
I looked around the room and saw a guy in stove-pipe hat. I don't know, maybe it was the beer talking, but I turned to Joe and said, "Look at that bad-ass hat. I'd like to have one of those."
Joe agreed that I too would look bad-ass in a hat like that. Of course, Tina would probably laugh hysterically and tell me that I look like an oversize Abe Lincoln. So, it let it go...
We eventually met up with the girls who were next door at the St. Michael's Winery doing some indulging of their own. We then headed back to the hotel to get some much needed rest after a long day. Interestingly enough, on the way back to the hotel, Tina found a discarded cardboard guitar. It even had strings on it. I immediately thought back to the Abe Lincoln hat. I imagined donning the hat while doing a Chuck Berry duck-walk down Main Street with the guitar. On second thought, maybe that wouldn't be such a great idea.....
kw
Showing posts with label St. Michaels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label St. Michaels. Show all posts
Friday, December 16, 2016
It's a Wonderful Town
Last weekend, Tina and I joined our good friends, Joe and Fran, for a Christmas themed get-away in St. Michaels. If you live in the Maryland area and you've never been to the small eastern shore town, you should really plan a visit. It's a quaint little place, tucked far enough off the beaten path for maximum relaxation.
We got into town Saturday morning as preparations were being made for the annual Christmas parade on the main strip (Talbot Street). We parked our car at our hotel and walked a few short blocks where we were eventually met with an abundance of townspeople. We made our way down the crowded sidewalk as the locals sipped on hot chocolate in anticipation of the parade. In spite of the frigid temperatures, the holiday mood was brought to life by a band of young musicians who played a variety of Christmas classics. In between songs, the conductor acknowledged their challenge by asking, "Do you know how hard it is to play a French Horn with frozen lips?"
As we walked another block, the impact from the wind was really making me wish that I had dressed warmer. I ducked into a local gift shop to take cover from the elements for a few minutes. I pretended to shop as my eyelids slowly thawed. I actually thought about buying some extra warmth in the form of a St. Michael's sweatshirt but the $60 price tag deterred me. I thought about conversing with the cashier but my face wasn't quite limber enough yet.
I ventured back outside to rejoin the rest of the gang. After another 10 minutes, the arctic blast was really taking it's toll on me. My face felt like it was about to break. Desperately trying to tough it out, my dilemma was instantly solved when Joe asked, "Anybody wanna stop in the Irish bar and have a drink?" Although he wasn't wearing a cape, I instantly viewed Joe as a Super Hero.
It was only 11 am but this was an easy choice. I could either stay out in the cold and freeze my ass off or I could sit in a warm bar and enjoy a Harp draft. I think you know where I wound up. So, Joe and I sipped on our beers as the girls ventured back out into the cold to get a good vantage point for the imminent parade. The bartender pointed out that we could watch the parade through the large bay window. Joe and I clanked out beer mugs in celebration. From a nearby jukebox, Mariah Carey was telling the entire bar that all she wanted for Christmas was me. While it was flattering, it was a little uncomfortable at the same time.
Anyway....
The parade progressed down Main Street (actually Talbot Street) with all the usual suspects: Santa Claus, a snowman, Christmas carolers, a John Deere tractor, etc. I have to admit, it was a magical sight. There's something very "Mayberry" about this town. But at this time of the year, there's an added element of "It's A Wonderful Life". I felt my inner George Bailey trying to escape as I fought the urge to run down the strip and yell, "Hello, you old movie theater. Hello, you rickety old savings and loan..."
After about 30 minutes, an influx of half-frozen spectators made their way into the warm bar. The bartenders did their best to keep up with spontaneous demand. There was a smile on everyone's face as lively conversations commenced throughout the bar. I knew we had a full day of events in front of us but I would have been fine spending the entire afternoon right here. Good people, good times....what more can you ask for?
kw
We got into town Saturday morning as preparations were being made for the annual Christmas parade on the main strip (Talbot Street). We parked our car at our hotel and walked a few short blocks where we were eventually met with an abundance of townspeople. We made our way down the crowded sidewalk as the locals sipped on hot chocolate in anticipation of the parade. In spite of the frigid temperatures, the holiday mood was brought to life by a band of young musicians who played a variety of Christmas classics. In between songs, the conductor acknowledged their challenge by asking, "Do you know how hard it is to play a French Horn with frozen lips?"
As we walked another block, the impact from the wind was really making me wish that I had dressed warmer. I ducked into a local gift shop to take cover from the elements for a few minutes. I pretended to shop as my eyelids slowly thawed. I actually thought about buying some extra warmth in the form of a St. Michael's sweatshirt but the $60 price tag deterred me. I thought about conversing with the cashier but my face wasn't quite limber enough yet.
I ventured back outside to rejoin the rest of the gang. After another 10 minutes, the arctic blast was really taking it's toll on me. My face felt like it was about to break. Desperately trying to tough it out, my dilemma was instantly solved when Joe asked, "Anybody wanna stop in the Irish bar and have a drink?" Although he wasn't wearing a cape, I instantly viewed Joe as a Super Hero.
It was only 11 am but this was an easy choice. I could either stay out in the cold and freeze my ass off or I could sit in a warm bar and enjoy a Harp draft. I think you know where I wound up. So, Joe and I sipped on our beers as the girls ventured back out into the cold to get a good vantage point for the imminent parade. The bartender pointed out that we could watch the parade through the large bay window. Joe and I clanked out beer mugs in celebration. From a nearby jukebox, Mariah Carey was telling the entire bar that all she wanted for Christmas was me. While it was flattering, it was a little uncomfortable at the same time.
Anyway....
The parade progressed down Main Street (actually Talbot Street) with all the usual suspects: Santa Claus, a snowman, Christmas carolers, a John Deere tractor, etc. I have to admit, it was a magical sight. There's something very "Mayberry" about this town. But at this time of the year, there's an added element of "It's A Wonderful Life". I felt my inner George Bailey trying to escape as I fought the urge to run down the strip and yell, "Hello, you old movie theater. Hello, you rickety old savings and loan..."
After about 30 minutes, an influx of half-frozen spectators made their way into the warm bar. The bartenders did their best to keep up with spontaneous demand. There was a smile on everyone's face as lively conversations commenced throughout the bar. I knew we had a full day of events in front of us but I would have been fine spending the entire afternoon right here. Good people, good times....what more can you ask for?
kw
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