Yesterday afternoon, I was driving along with the windows down. The weather was unseasonably warm for an early spring day. Thinking of the classic Foghat song, it was a great opportunity for a slow ride and taking it easy. As I made my way across a local drawbridge, the smell of the water below made me think of springtime and all of the good things that come along with it. A small scattering of boaters on the creek reinforced the feeling.
Making my way to the other side of the bridge, the smell of grilled steak filled the air. Passing by a local BBQ place, I fought the urge to stop for a pit beef sandwich. But I knew I couldn't thoroughly enjoy an authentic pit beef sandwich without a cold beer So, knowing that I had places to go and people to see, I continued on my journey.
At some point, an unwelcome stench began to fill the cabin of my car. I'm not sure what it was or where it was coming from. All I can tell you is that it was putrid and it ambushed me with reckless abandon. If I had to describe it, I would say that it smelled like something crawled up a skunk's ass and died. It was actually worse than that. It smelled like whatever was up that skunk's ass was two weeks into the decomposition stage. I shook my head from side to side in an effort to capture any available pocket of fresh air. But the attempt was futile and I desperately fought the urge to gag. I instinctively rolled up the windows but this only trapped the tainted air that was already inside the car. (This situation would have been really uncomfortable if I would have had passengers in the car as everyone would have suspected that someone had floated a biscuit.) So anyway, I rolled the windows back down, including the ones in the back. and I punched the accelerator in hopes of generating maximum airflow. I eventually made it through the "turbulence" and came out the other side stunned but still conscious. As I stopped at a red light, I tried to figure out what the hell had just assaulted my nasal passage.
Well, the smorgasbord of smells wasn't quite over just yet. As I sat at the light in a state of semi-consciousness, the distinct aroma of marijuana presented itself. While I'm not a pot smoker, I have to admit, it was a much better smell than what I had experienced a few minutes ago. The source of the smoke was the car in front of me. It contained a group of youngsters who appeared to be auditioning for the remake of "Up In Smoke". I thought that I heard "Low Rider" in the distance, but this could have just been my imagination. As the sweet smoke made it's way into to my vehicle, my urge for pit beef slowly transitioned to a craving for Taco flavored Doritos. Knowing that I was dangerously close to catching a contact-high, I pulled into the next lane to get upwind. As I changed positions, The Chum Gang cut across two lanes of traffic and made a bee-line towards a Royal Farms store. Their quest for munchies obviously outweighed any regard for public safety.
While all of this was going on, I remembered that I had one of those tree-shaped air fresheners in the glove box. So, I opened it and hung it on my rear view mirror. Quickly, all of the other smells were flushed away by the fragrance of synthetic vanilla. Figuring that this was about as good as it was going to get, I took a deep breath made the most of it.....
kw
Sunday, March 26, 2017
Sunday, March 5, 2017
A Visit to The Library
So, yesterday I found myself at a local library. Yeah, yeah, I know.....with Amazon Prime and the internet, what am I doing at the library? Just stay with me here...
A trip to the library always gives me a feeling of nostalgia. Back when I was a kid, I used to spend countless hours in our local Enoch Pratt library. There, I read about childhood heroes like Brooks Robinson and Evil Knievel while escaping from elements of the hot, humid Baltimore summer. I would sometimes "prepare" for an afternoon baseball game by reading up on how to throw a curve-ball or on the best approach in the batter's box. I'm not sure if any of these really helped me, but I always entered the game thinking that I had a clear mental edge over the competition.
Anyway, back to the present......
I walk into the local library yesterday and I'm almost knee-capped by two little rugrats who have transformed the entrance into their own little playground. Scattered books occupied the floor as the kids danced around them. The parents were nowhere to be seen. If John Walsh happened to walk in, they would have gotten a serious tongue-lashing. I gingerly step over a screaming kid and make my way toward the main area.
Surprisingly, the place is bustling with activity on this Saturday morning. I was somewhat surprised and began to wonder if they were giving away free McMuffins or something of the sort.
I made my way over to the audio-book section. Spending a ridiculous amount of time on any given week in DC traffic, I'll try almost anything to help ease the pain. Since drinking behind the wheel is heavily frowned upon, I rely on audio-books and music to help pass the time. The is where the library can be a valuable yet economical resource. Sure, I can afford to buy my own books and music. But since I pay a boatload of taxes to help fund the public libraries, why not use them? Call me frugally cheap but I'm ok with it.
As I pass through a seating area, I hear a group of older men have an loud, animated conversation. I guess they didn't get the memo about the library being a quiet place. These guys reminded me of the senior citizens that hang out all day at the Dunkin' Donuts. Of course, this gives ever more credibility to my McMuffin give-away theory.
These guys were yucking it up like they were at a corner bar during the corn-hole finals. Amazingly, even though they could be heard throughout the library, no one really seemed to be bothered by their commotion. As one of them would make a comment that dangerously toed the line of "offensibilty", the others would slap him on the back and laugh like they were listening to Richard Pryor.
And then, just when you think things couldn't get any louder, one of the guys' phones rings. It wasn't just any ring either. The piercing tone reverberated through the room like it was being blasted out of a Marshall stack. And then, in between laughs, the guy retracts the phone out of his pocket and announces, "Shit man!, Sorry guys, I gotta take this."
I can only imagine what revolutionary business deal awaited on the other end of the virtual line. Well, everyone would soon know. The guy answered the call and put it on speaker phone! As the guy initiates the one-on-one call, it soon becomes a conference call as the other members of the Breakfast Club began to chime in. At first, my reaction was WTF. But it soon transitioned into a comedic episode worthy of a Saturday Night Live skit. These guys were oblivious to any one else in the room. If these guys were having this good of a time at the library, I can only imagine what kind of party they throw at the Dunkin' Donuts.
I just shook my head as I gathered my items. I could still hear their slapstick routine as I walked out the door. I can hardly wait to see what's in store for me on the next visit....
kw
A trip to the library always gives me a feeling of nostalgia. Back when I was a kid, I used to spend countless hours in our local Enoch Pratt library. There, I read about childhood heroes like Brooks Robinson and Evil Knievel while escaping from elements of the hot, humid Baltimore summer. I would sometimes "prepare" for an afternoon baseball game by reading up on how to throw a curve-ball or on the best approach in the batter's box. I'm not sure if any of these really helped me, but I always entered the game thinking that I had a clear mental edge over the competition.
Anyway, back to the present......
I walk into the local library yesterday and I'm almost knee-capped by two little rugrats who have transformed the entrance into their own little playground. Scattered books occupied the floor as the kids danced around them. The parents were nowhere to be seen. If John Walsh happened to walk in, they would have gotten a serious tongue-lashing. I gingerly step over a screaming kid and make my way toward the main area.
Surprisingly, the place is bustling with activity on this Saturday morning. I was somewhat surprised and began to wonder if they were giving away free McMuffins or something of the sort.
I made my way over to the audio-book section. Spending a ridiculous amount of time on any given week in DC traffic, I'll try almost anything to help ease the pain. Since drinking behind the wheel is heavily frowned upon, I rely on audio-books and music to help pass the time. The is where the library can be a valuable yet economical resource. Sure, I can afford to buy my own books and music. But since I pay a boatload of taxes to help fund the public libraries, why not use them? Call me frugally cheap but I'm ok with it.
As I pass through a seating area, I hear a group of older men have an loud, animated conversation. I guess they didn't get the memo about the library being a quiet place. These guys reminded me of the senior citizens that hang out all day at the Dunkin' Donuts. Of course, this gives ever more credibility to my McMuffin give-away theory.
These guys were yucking it up like they were at a corner bar during the corn-hole finals. Amazingly, even though they could be heard throughout the library, no one really seemed to be bothered by their commotion. As one of them would make a comment that dangerously toed the line of "offensibilty", the others would slap him on the back and laugh like they were listening to Richard Pryor.
And then, just when you think things couldn't get any louder, one of the guys' phones rings. It wasn't just any ring either. The piercing tone reverberated through the room like it was being blasted out of a Marshall stack. And then, in between laughs, the guy retracts the phone out of his pocket and announces, "Shit man!, Sorry guys, I gotta take this."
I can only imagine what revolutionary business deal awaited on the other end of the virtual line. Well, everyone would soon know. The guy answered the call and put it on speaker phone! As the guy initiates the one-on-one call, it soon becomes a conference call as the other members of the Breakfast Club began to chime in. At first, my reaction was WTF. But it soon transitioned into a comedic episode worthy of a Saturday Night Live skit. These guys were oblivious to any one else in the room. If these guys were having this good of a time at the library, I can only imagine what kind of party they throw at the Dunkin' Donuts.
I just shook my head as I gathered my items. I could still hear their slapstick routine as I walked out the door. I can hardly wait to see what's in store for me on the next visit....
kw
Sunday, February 5, 2017
Prelude To Super Bowl LI
With Super Bowl 51 (or is it LI?) just hours away, football fans across the country are standing in grocery store lines with bags of Doritos, French onion dip and other heart-healthy snacks. The only item of business left before heading home is a quick stop at the local liquor store to secure a few 30-packs of cheap beer (and perhaps one 6-pack of quality IPA). As kick-off approaches, there will be a race to the finish line between the blood-alcohol and cholesterol levels.
I used to really get into Super Bowl Sunday. I would invite the boys over around mid-afternoon and we would shoot pool, play cards and whatever else boys. When we heard the National Anthem coming from the TV, we knew it was time to scope out our individual seats in the man cave. This is where we would cheer and spew out random profanity for the next few hours.
Nowadays, unless my home team is playing, the Super bowl is just another Sunday to me. I don't know, maybe it's just a sign of getting old. But the thought of partying late into Sunday night and having to get up early for work Monday morning doesn't appeal to me so much any more. I might venture out for the game, but more than likely, I'll just watch the game alone and be in bed shortly thereafter. (When did this happen to me??).
Of course, the Patriots are playing the Falcons in this year's contest. Yeah, yeah, I know, f*&k the Patriots. But love them or hate, they have walked the walk over the past 10-15 years. They have effectively become the NY Yankees of football. So, while there's no denying that they've been a great team, it's still perfectly acceptable to hate them. The Pats are a 3-point favorite in today's game but I expect the margin of victory to be greater than that. As much as it pains me to say it, expect to see Tom Brady win his 5th Super Bowl ring tonight.
There will, no doubt, be some kind of political grandstanding at today's event. Lady Gaga, who is no stranger to controversy, will be the main attraction at the halftime show. After last year's racially charged and polarizing performance by Beyonce, expect Lady Gaga to try to one-up her this year with some type of anti-Trump message. I think it's inevitable...
I'm not sure why politics has to be a part of a football game. Some people will claim that the athletes have a big stage and should use the opportunity to promote their beliefs/causes. Personally, I think it's bullshit. I want to watch a football game. Unless it relates to the game, I really don't give a rat's ass what a performer or athlete has to say. So, just shut up and and sing/play! And if any of these ungrateful pricks "takes a knee" during the National Anthem, I'm going to hurl a beer can at the TV. And if it happens to be one of my quality IPA's, I'm really going to be pissed!
Ok, I'm taking a deep breath now......
Whatever you choose to do tonight or wherever you choose to do it, please be safe out there. Hopefully, we'll witness a great game with a minimal amount of controversy. Cheers, my friends!
kw
I used to really get into Super Bowl Sunday. I would invite the boys over around mid-afternoon and we would shoot pool, play cards and whatever else boys. When we heard the National Anthem coming from the TV, we knew it was time to scope out our individual seats in the man cave. This is where we would cheer and spew out random profanity for the next few hours.
Nowadays, unless my home team is playing, the Super bowl is just another Sunday to me. I don't know, maybe it's just a sign of getting old. But the thought of partying late into Sunday night and having to get up early for work Monday morning doesn't appeal to me so much any more. I might venture out for the game, but more than likely, I'll just watch the game alone and be in bed shortly thereafter. (When did this happen to me??).
Of course, the Patriots are playing the Falcons in this year's contest. Yeah, yeah, I know, f*&k the Patriots. But love them or hate, they have walked the walk over the past 10-15 years. They have effectively become the NY Yankees of football. So, while there's no denying that they've been a great team, it's still perfectly acceptable to hate them. The Pats are a 3-point favorite in today's game but I expect the margin of victory to be greater than that. As much as it pains me to say it, expect to see Tom Brady win his 5th Super Bowl ring tonight.
There will, no doubt, be some kind of political grandstanding at today's event. Lady Gaga, who is no stranger to controversy, will be the main attraction at the halftime show. After last year's racially charged and polarizing performance by Beyonce, expect Lady Gaga to try to one-up her this year with some type of anti-Trump message. I think it's inevitable...
I'm not sure why politics has to be a part of a football game. Some people will claim that the athletes have a big stage and should use the opportunity to promote their beliefs/causes. Personally, I think it's bullshit. I want to watch a football game. Unless it relates to the game, I really don't give a rat's ass what a performer or athlete has to say. So, just shut up and and sing/play! And if any of these ungrateful pricks "takes a knee" during the National Anthem, I'm going to hurl a beer can at the TV. And if it happens to be one of my quality IPA's, I'm really going to be pissed!
Ok, I'm taking a deep breath now......
Whatever you choose to do tonight or wherever you choose to do it, please be safe out there. Hopefully, we'll witness a great game with a minimal amount of controversy. Cheers, my friends!
kw
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Stop The Noise In Here!
Way back when I was in elementary school, there was a substitute teacher (I can't remember her name, so I'll just call her Mrs. C) who would lose it whenever any chatter took place in the classroom. Any side conversations would come to an instant halt when she would shout, "I SAID STOP THE NOISE IN HERE!!"
It was a thunderous command that could be heard down the entire hallway of the old school building. I imagined students in other classrooms jumping from their seats as their daydreams were abruptly interrupted.
Mrs. C was a stout woman who resembled Shirley from the old 70's sit-com "What's Happening". So, when she spoke, people tended to listen. For the most part, she was jolly woman. She often joked and seemed to have a genuine bond with the girls in the class. But when she was giving instructions, it was all business.
She would often strut around the room in these skin-tight polyester pants. They were always a tan color. I'm mot sure if she had several pairs or she wore the same pair every day. This was back in the 70's and times were tight, so it could have been the latter. But anyway, with every ass-dimple on full display, she methodically walked down each aisle looking for an unsuspecting victim. If she ventured upon a distracted student, she would unleash the bullhorn:
"WHATCO DOIN', MR WILSON? WE GOTTA CLASS GOIN' ON HERE! I SAID STOP THE NOISE IN HERE! PAY ATTENTION, BOY!!"
After getting blasted from such a close proximity, my ears were ringing like I just set off an M80 in the broom closet. I would try to shake the cobwebs off as I eagerly waited for Mrs. C to pass me.
This would cause the other students to react with random giggles and comments. This only fueled the fire as it triggered another spontaneous round from Mrs. C ....."I SAID STOP THE NOISE IN HERE!!!" She would then look around the room with an icy gaze just in case anyone thought she was playing. She was like a Drill Sargent laying down the law to the new recruits. It was intense!
When she really got pissed, her head would start to shake and her eyes turned into laser beams. She looked like a heavyweight boxer during a pre-match stare-down. We always felt the urge to laugh but we didn't dare walk down that dark alley.
I especially liked it when she would scream, "DON'T MAKE ME RAISE MY VOICE, Y'ALL!" Even at a young age, I fully appreciated the comedic irony in her statement. It's kind of like when someone asks, "Can I ask you a question?"
Thinking of those powerful pipes, I sit here and wonder if Mrs. C ever moved onto bigger things. She could have probably given Aretha Franklin a run for her money on the big stage. Or maybe she got a job as the PA system at a large sports arena. The late Sam Kinison would have absolutely loved Mrs. C.
Today's kids don't get to experience these types of things. If modern educators raise their voice to the little snowflakes, it would probably initiate a visit from the school board, the ACLU and at least two reps from Child Protective Services. So, all we have left are the survivor stories from those of us who lived it....
kw
It was a thunderous command that could be heard down the entire hallway of the old school building. I imagined students in other classrooms jumping from their seats as their daydreams were abruptly interrupted.
Mrs. C was a stout woman who resembled Shirley from the old 70's sit-com "What's Happening". So, when she spoke, people tended to listen. For the most part, she was jolly woman. She often joked and seemed to have a genuine bond with the girls in the class. But when she was giving instructions, it was all business.
She would often strut around the room in these skin-tight polyester pants. They were always a tan color. I'm mot sure if she had several pairs or she wore the same pair every day. This was back in the 70's and times were tight, so it could have been the latter. But anyway, with every ass-dimple on full display, she methodically walked down each aisle looking for an unsuspecting victim. If she ventured upon a distracted student, she would unleash the bullhorn:
"WHATCO DOIN', MR WILSON? WE GOTTA CLASS GOIN' ON HERE! I SAID STOP THE NOISE IN HERE! PAY ATTENTION, BOY!!"
After getting blasted from such a close proximity, my ears were ringing like I just set off an M80 in the broom closet. I would try to shake the cobwebs off as I eagerly waited for Mrs. C to pass me.
This would cause the other students to react with random giggles and comments. This only fueled the fire as it triggered another spontaneous round from Mrs. C ....."I SAID STOP THE NOISE IN HERE!!!" She would then look around the room with an icy gaze just in case anyone thought she was playing. She was like a Drill Sargent laying down the law to the new recruits. It was intense!
When she really got pissed, her head would start to shake and her eyes turned into laser beams. She looked like a heavyweight boxer during a pre-match stare-down. We always felt the urge to laugh but we didn't dare walk down that dark alley.
I especially liked it when she would scream, "DON'T MAKE ME RAISE MY VOICE, Y'ALL!" Even at a young age, I fully appreciated the comedic irony in her statement. It's kind of like when someone asks, "Can I ask you a question?"
Thinking of those powerful pipes, I sit here and wonder if Mrs. C ever moved onto bigger things. She could have probably given Aretha Franklin a run for her money on the big stage. Or maybe she got a job as the PA system at a large sports arena. The late Sam Kinison would have absolutely loved Mrs. C.
Today's kids don't get to experience these types of things. If modern educators raise their voice to the little snowflakes, it would probably initiate a visit from the school board, the ACLU and at least two reps from Child Protective Services. So, all we have left are the survivor stories from those of us who lived it....
kw
Thursday, December 29, 2016
2016 - A Tough Year
Well, another year is almost in the books and it can't close soon enough. 2016 was a rather turbulent year all the way around. First off, we lost our share of notable celebrities. The music world was hit especially hard as we said goodbye to iconic performers like Prince, Glenn Frey, Paul Kantner, Maurice White, Keith Emerson, Greg Lake, Leon Russell, Leonard Cohen, Merle Haggard, George Michael and David Bowie. While driving around earlier today, I listened to Bowie's "Blackstar" album. The ominous tone of the music illustrated the void left behind by his departure. If your a Bowie fan (who isn't?), you gotta add this album to your collection.
Hollywood lost it's share of people including Doris Roberts, Patty Duke, Garry Shandling, Gary Marshall, Gene Wilder, Abe Vigoda, Florence Henderson, Alam Thicke , Zsa Zsa Gabor and most recently, Carrie Fisher and her mom, Debbie Reynolds.
The political arena lost notable folks like Nancy Reagan, John Glenn, Janet Reno and Antonin Scalia,
The sports world lost legends like Muhammad Ali, Goldie Howe, Arnold Palmer, Pat Summit and Joe Garagiola.
.............................................................................................................................................
It was a really tough year for me personally. Early in the year, my cousin suffered a stroke which continues to have a lingering effect on her. She is perhaps the most intelligent, articulate person that I've ever known. We would often converse for hours about politics, religion and any other topic du jour. Although we still talk regularly, it's not quite the same. It's really hard to absorb for both of us. I can only hope that things will eventually get better for her.
In June, we said goodbye to my father-in-law who had battled dementia for several years. Although we all prepared for the inevitable, it's always sad when the time finally comes. My father-in-law, who was more of a friend to me, was another person with whom I shared many stories through the years. The memories always bring a smile to my face.
And in August, I was dealt a blow that hit me extra hard. I lost my Dad. Although he would have been 83 years this month, he was very active so I though that he would live forever. Next to his hospital bed, I watched him pass. I fought the uncontrollable urge to cry while trying to appear strong for my sisters, who were also in the room. I left the hospital in a daze as I prepared break the news to my mom, who was dealing with her own health issues at home.
I still get emotional when I think of my Dad. On any given weekend, he would spontaneously show up at my house in his beloved Chevy pick-up truck. Yesterday, I was driving down I-95 and I saw a guy in a pick-up who looked just like my Dad. I know it sounds crazy, but I rode beside him until he eventually took his exit. I really miss my Dad and think about him every day.
Several people have asked me why I haven't been writing over the past few months. Aside from the things I've already mentioned, I also started a new job/career in September (In a bit of twisted irony, I officially got hired on the same day my Dad passed away). After spending 25 years in the IT world, I took a leap of faith and landed a position in the bio-tech world. The learning curve has been quite steep. So, after working extended days, I often find myself doing research when I get home at night. As things (hopefully) become easier, I plan to get back to the little things that really make me happy, like writing...:-)
Thanks for all the support over the past year. Looking forward to a brighter 2017. May each of you have a happy and prosperous New Year!
kw
Hollywood lost it's share of people including Doris Roberts, Patty Duke, Garry Shandling, Gary Marshall, Gene Wilder, Abe Vigoda, Florence Henderson, Alam Thicke , Zsa Zsa Gabor and most recently, Carrie Fisher and her mom, Debbie Reynolds.
The political arena lost notable folks like Nancy Reagan, John Glenn, Janet Reno and Antonin Scalia,
The sports world lost legends like Muhammad Ali, Goldie Howe, Arnold Palmer, Pat Summit and Joe Garagiola.
.............................................................................................................................................
It was a really tough year for me personally. Early in the year, my cousin suffered a stroke which continues to have a lingering effect on her. She is perhaps the most intelligent, articulate person that I've ever known. We would often converse for hours about politics, religion and any other topic du jour. Although we still talk regularly, it's not quite the same. It's really hard to absorb for both of us. I can only hope that things will eventually get better for her.
In June, we said goodbye to my father-in-law who had battled dementia for several years. Although we all prepared for the inevitable, it's always sad when the time finally comes. My father-in-law, who was more of a friend to me, was another person with whom I shared many stories through the years. The memories always bring a smile to my face.
And in August, I was dealt a blow that hit me extra hard. I lost my Dad. Although he would have been 83 years this month, he was very active so I though that he would live forever. Next to his hospital bed, I watched him pass. I fought the uncontrollable urge to cry while trying to appear strong for my sisters, who were also in the room. I left the hospital in a daze as I prepared break the news to my mom, who was dealing with her own health issues at home.
I still get emotional when I think of my Dad. On any given weekend, he would spontaneously show up at my house in his beloved Chevy pick-up truck. Yesterday, I was driving down I-95 and I saw a guy in a pick-up who looked just like my Dad. I know it sounds crazy, but I rode beside him until he eventually took his exit. I really miss my Dad and think about him every day.
Several people have asked me why I haven't been writing over the past few months. Aside from the things I've already mentioned, I also started a new job/career in September (In a bit of twisted irony, I officially got hired on the same day my Dad passed away). After spending 25 years in the IT world, I took a leap of faith and landed a position in the bio-tech world. The learning curve has been quite steep. So, after working extended days, I often find myself doing research when I get home at night. As things (hopefully) become easier, I plan to get back to the little things that really make me happy, like writing...:-)
Thanks for all the support over the past year. Looking forward to a brighter 2017. May each of you have a happy and prosperous New Year!
kw
Friday, December 16, 2016
It's a Wonderful Brewpub
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
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
