Last night the Wiff and I went out to dinner. She had gone online and purchased a $100 gift certificate (half price too! Go get something for a restaurant you like at Project Half Price or at the WBZ site) for a little restaurant near our place that she's been wanting to try for a while now (I have to mention that when I went to check out the restaurant's website, the first thing I noticed was a spelling error. In the title of the site it reads "A New Tase on the North Short". Awesome job, website douche). We haven't gone out to dinner in a long time so it was supposed to be a nice night out to enjoy each others company and some good food. What we forgot to factor in is the humans that will inevitably throw a monkey wrench into the works and ruin the night.
The restaurant is about a mile from our house over in Swampscott so getting there was easy enough. The place is right near the water (not quite within view of the ocean but you know it's there) and I got a parking space right in front. I chose to take this is a good sign and happily parked the car. We walked in and you know that feeling you get when you instantly don't like a place? Yea, I got that feeling right off the bat. Tacky is a good description. It's trying to be a high-end place but not quite pulling it off. But since I'm trying to be less anti-social (HA!), I dismissed it as just me being my usual cranky self and even though the place is decorated like a Long Island housewife's wet dream, I'm sure it'll be fine. We were greeted right away by a woman who looked like she just got out of the spray tan booth 5 minutes before showing up for work. The place was completely empty and she said that we could sit wherever we wanted. I kinda wanted to sit in the dark, back corner but I figured that would be overruled as too gloomy so we ended up sitting right at the front of the big windows that overlooked, well, our little diesel Jetta mostly.
The server (who I think must be an owner too or something...no proof of this but she gave that impression. Perhaps it was just the fake tan and giant painted nails) gave us menus and a cocktail menu (which was empty by the way. The Wiff opened the cocktail menu and there was nothing in there. It was just a blank, leatherette folder at this stage). After getting the real cocktail menu we were left alone to figure out what we wanted. Then this Porsche SUV pulled up outside and a this small family of 4 got out. I didn't really pay attention to them (other than noting the two kids were wearing those horrible Ed Hardy "fashion" T-shirts and that the woman was also overly spray tanned and had on I'm guessing 10 gold rings. Ok, I guess I did notice them a little. I think the situation was the Porsche-douche is dating the super-tanned lady and the Ed Hardy assholes are her kids) until they came into the restaurant itself. Now remember, the place is completely empty except for us two. So where do you think the waitress sat them? If you said DIRECTLY behind us (and right in my line of sight) then you'd be correct. I must have looked like I wanted to bail 'cuz the Wiff gave me that "Just let it go" look. But I can't just let it go can I? No, I can't. I'm a jackass remember?
All I wanted to do was to go to my instinct and either move our seats to the other side of the L-shaped space or just bolt and forget the whole thing. We hadn't ordered at this stage so we totally should have left. Now I know I sound like a high-maintainance jerk-o now (and I am) but honestly, why seat them right there? Oh, plus they were friends with the server/suspected owner-lady and the bartender guy. This I mention because our server wasn't that into being a server in the first place (my impression) and when you add people that she already knows into the mix, she's just gonna go hang out and talk to them instead of, oh I dunno, checking on us for instance. At this time is when I noticed that the music there was really loud italian "rock". As I tried to process that this shitty song was yes in fact louder than it should be and yes they are singing in Italian, I looked up and realized that I was sitting directly under a speaker. Niiiiiice. Where's my scotch?
Then the guy at the other table started coughing. It was a harsh, and perhaps (I'm hoping) painful cough that was quite loud. Louder even than the shitty italian rock music. I can't really blame the restaurant for the guy having a cough like that but I can certainly focus on it and allow it to mess up my dinner. This guy was sitting facing me and right over the Wiff's left shoulder. So I could see exactly when he was gearing up for the next burst of hacking. It was the opposite of awesome. It took some doing but I actually let it go. No, seriously, I was not "ok with it" but I was trying desperately to not let it ruin the evening. Then the food started to come out.
We had ordered a couple of apps which isn't normally something we'd do but since we had this lovely $100 gift certificate that we snagged for $50 we figured what the hell. The first app was a lobster and crab pancake thing that was just....meh. It was too oily for my taste. The Wiff seemed to like it. The other app was a potato gnocci that I swear to jeebus christmas tasted like Chef Boyardee made it. Except that the Chef doesn't charge $18 for his shit. Ok, so the apps aren't fantastic. Whatevs, let's just move on to the main course and try to enjoy ourselves. But I can't. Why? Cuz the douchebag with the cough is going on and on about how the younger of the two kids should get the Mercedes-something SUV and the other brother should totally get either the BMW or Land Rover. By now the Wiff has also noticed that this place is not really our cup of tea. And then the guy went into another coughing fit. Hooray! Swine flu for everyone!
The main course comes and it's good. I got the lemon chicken and since the Wiff loves nothing more than a tortured animal, she got the veal (I'm surprised she didn't get it with a side of foie gras and an assortment of kittens that she could punch). My meal was pretty good. But that's really the gist of the whole place right there: It was "pretty good" not "amazing" or "wicked pissah". By now the place is filling up with other patrons and so I do a quick glance over my shoulder to silently judge the rest of them as well. As I had expected it was chock full of assholes. God, I really don't like people at all. The waitress comes over with the check and I take a look-see. Now, I'm figuring that based on 1) where we are, Swampscott on the fucking Lynn border 2) what we had, Chef Boyardee apps and mediocre main courses and 3) there's only 2 of us that the check would be what? $75? Maybe $85? Nope. $124. Are you fucking kidding me? My scotch all by itself was $12. Holy shit. Good thing I only had one of those. This is not Boston you assholes. What the fuck? More swear words!
So as I get wallet out I look at the Wiff and say "I'm never coming back here". And I think she agreed. We settled up and got the hell out of there. I guess this place decided that all you have to do to be considered "fine dining" was to have inflated prices. I wouldn't mind so much if the experience and food hadn't been such a let down. I had been looking forward to a night out too. Next time we'll just head over to The Blue Ox in downtown Lynn. At least there the waitstaff seem to actually care if you're enjoying yourself.
Showing posts with label socializing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label socializing. Show all posts
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
A Night on the Town With Yours Truly
The Wiff and I went to see Louis CK last night and had a blast. Let's back up a bit here and be honest with each other ok? Ok. The show was really fun and I was really glad that I got to see Louis perform (he was on for close to 2 hours with the encore and then signed stuff in the lobby after the show) and the opener Ted Alexandro was also very funny (I didn't realize there was going to be an opening act and I'm glad that it was Ted) but I think that I shouldn't be allowed to go out anymore. Lemme 'splain.
The show was at The Orpheum and if you taller than say, 5 foot 9, you are going to be uncomfortable in your seat at this lovely venue (which Louis called "a dump" last night. He isn't wrong. The person running the spotlight seemed not to understand the concept and when Louis would move about the stage the spotlight sometimes just stayed put. In one awkward showdown Louis stepped over to his left slightly and the spotlight didn't budge. He stood there continuing his thought for a bit and then realizing that the person behind the spotlight had passed out or been kidnapped or something and wasn't going to follow him, he stepped back into the light. Nice job Orpheum. Also every now and then some confetti [I think it was confetti, it could have been paint chips for all I know] would drift down lazily from the light rig above Louis head. I don't know how he didn't point it out unless he just didn't notice them. But they fell periodically throughout the show. Not as egregious certainly but it did distract). I'm 6 foot 2-ish and um..fat. So, I was pretty uncomfortable in my seat from the get-go. I had a great seat as far as being able to see the stage but come on Orpheum, where the fuck am I supposed to put my legs? I ended up cramming myself into the seat (and honestly the issue was being too tall not too fat ... shut up, it was) and made myself as comfortable as possible. I put the sleeve of my jacket between my left knee and the seat directly in front of me to hopefully act as a buffer of some sort and settled in for an evening of ignoring the discomfort. But then she sat down.
I know what you're thinking (actually I don't. I have no idea if anyone reads this let alone what that random person could be thinking. Let's face it, even if I knew that you, whoever you are were reading this right now and I was staring intently at your face [you have a little somethin'-somethin' on your cheek there...no, other side] I still wouldn't have an idea of what, if anything you were thinking): "Oh no! A big woman sat down and crushed Mark's widdle knee! Oh what an outpouring of sympathy I have for him in my very soul!" Nope, it was a little, tiny chick. But this little woman devastated my knee repeatedly but leaning forward in her chair and then SLAMMING herself backwards at a high rate of speed EVERY time she laughed. Intellectually I know that she did not purposely set out to unload several tons of crushing force onto my poor patella (look it up bitches) but I grew to hate this girl.
She seemed oblivious to my every attempt at making her as uncomfortable as possible by jamming my hand between my knee and her chair (not recommended by the way. Did you know you have pain receptors in your hands too? FACT). I would occasionally bonk my right knee into her chair to sort of disrupt her evening. She became the focus of my hate and fury. I began to wish that horrible things would happen to her and her family and people that she worked with at the Quiznos or whatever. My hate spilled over onto her boyfriend sitting next to her who was NOT slamming himself into his chair. Why couldn't you sit where she is sitting you asshole? Can't you control this little trollop? She's making a guy you don't know and will never see again uncomfortable. Meanwhile, I'm missing the show and distracting the Wiff as well. I guess I could have asked her to cut the fucking shit with the over-enthusiastic whole-body guffaws before I was rendered crippled but it was then that I realized that she's just enjoying herself and isn't that what we're all here to do? I stuffed the other sleeve of my jacket between my knee and her chair and got over myself. A proud moment of maturity you could say.
So what did I learn? I learned that I am probably going to continue to really hate being in crowds but unless I want to become a complete recluse (a single recluse too I might add since I doubt the Wiff would put up with that for too long), I'm going to have to suck it up and stop being such a whiny bitch.
The show was at The Orpheum and if you taller than say, 5 foot 9, you are going to be uncomfortable in your seat at this lovely venue (which Louis called "a dump" last night. He isn't wrong. The person running the spotlight seemed not to understand the concept and when Louis would move about the stage the spotlight sometimes just stayed put. In one awkward showdown Louis stepped over to his left slightly and the spotlight didn't budge. He stood there continuing his thought for a bit and then realizing that the person behind the spotlight had passed out or been kidnapped or something and wasn't going to follow him, he stepped back into the light. Nice job Orpheum. Also every now and then some confetti [I think it was confetti, it could have been paint chips for all I know] would drift down lazily from the light rig above Louis head. I don't know how he didn't point it out unless he just didn't notice them. But they fell periodically throughout the show. Not as egregious certainly but it did distract). I'm 6 foot 2-ish and um..fat. So, I was pretty uncomfortable in my seat from the get-go. I had a great seat as far as being able to see the stage but come on Orpheum, where the fuck am I supposed to put my legs? I ended up cramming myself into the seat (and honestly the issue was being too tall not too fat ... shut up, it was) and made myself as comfortable as possible. I put the sleeve of my jacket between my left knee and the seat directly in front of me to hopefully act as a buffer of some sort and settled in for an evening of ignoring the discomfort. But then she sat down.
I know what you're thinking (actually I don't. I have no idea if anyone reads this let alone what that random person could be thinking. Let's face it, even if I knew that you, whoever you are were reading this right now and I was staring intently at your face [you have a little somethin'-somethin' on your cheek there...no, other side] I still wouldn't have an idea of what, if anything you were thinking): "Oh no! A big woman sat down and crushed Mark's widdle knee! Oh what an outpouring of sympathy I have for him in my very soul!" Nope, it was a little, tiny chick. But this little woman devastated my knee repeatedly but leaning forward in her chair and then SLAMMING herself backwards at a high rate of speed EVERY time she laughed. Intellectually I know that she did not purposely set out to unload several tons of crushing force onto my poor patella (look it up bitches) but I grew to hate this girl.
She seemed oblivious to my every attempt at making her as uncomfortable as possible by jamming my hand between my knee and her chair (not recommended by the way. Did you know you have pain receptors in your hands too? FACT). I would occasionally bonk my right knee into her chair to sort of disrupt her evening. She became the focus of my hate and fury. I began to wish that horrible things would happen to her and her family and people that she worked with at the Quiznos or whatever. My hate spilled over onto her boyfriend sitting next to her who was NOT slamming himself into his chair. Why couldn't you sit where she is sitting you asshole? Can't you control this little trollop? She's making a guy you don't know and will never see again uncomfortable. Meanwhile, I'm missing the show and distracting the Wiff as well. I guess I could have asked her to cut the fucking shit with the over-enthusiastic whole-body guffaws before I was rendered crippled but it was then that I realized that she's just enjoying herself and isn't that what we're all here to do? I stuffed the other sleeve of my jacket between my knee and her chair and got over myself. A proud moment of maturity you could say.
So what did I learn? I learned that I am probably going to continue to really hate being in crowds but unless I want to become a complete recluse (a single recluse too I might add since I doubt the Wiff would put up with that for too long), I'm going to have to suck it up and stop being such a whiny bitch.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Me Am Cultured
The Wiff and I went to my sister Mary's opening last night at the Laconia Lofts Gallery in the SoWa district of Boston's South End. The show looks great and it was a chance to see Mary's stuff as well pieces from Sara Hairston-Medice and Resa Blatman. We took some pics and they came out ok but the flash tends to wash out the details as well as make big..uh, flashes on the pieces, but here they are at any rate:
this is in the lobby of the building.
one of Mary's.
another..the camera had a hard time with the colors.
and another..
this is an installation of some of Sara's work..so cool.
more of Sara's work..these are hanging from the ceiling in the corner.
Sara again.
this is a ginormous piece by Resa that greets you as you enter the gallery.
More of Resa's. This was the Wiff's favorite.
Another of Resa's. I kept coming back to this one.
So, yeah. Go there and take a look for yourself.
this is in the lobby of the building.
one of Mary's.
another..the camera had a hard time with the colors.
and another..
this is an installation of some of Sara's work..so cool.
more of Sara's work..these are hanging from the ceiling in the corner.
Sara again.
this is a ginormous piece by Resa that greets you as you enter the gallery.
More of Resa's. This was the Wiff's favorite.
Another of Resa's. I kept coming back to this one.
So, yeah. Go there and take a look for yourself.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
I Left The House! And On A Tuesday Too!!
Last night The Wiff and I went out to see Ad Frank and the Fast and Easy Women play at Harper's Ferry in Allston. I hadn't seen them play in probably a year or so and it was a really good show. As it turns out, it was also a bit of a reunion of sorts. First off, Nancy and Mike were there! They're great people and I was trying to think of the last time I had seen them and it has to be about 2 years maybe? God, I need to get out more often. I suck. Mike occasionally plays keyboards for the band (actually I asked him and he said that the last time was probably 5 years ago...technically still occasionally right?). I also got to say Hey to Linda Bean P.! One of my all time favorite peoples.
Continuing with the reunion theme, I saw this guy Phil that I knew from a million years ago. Then later on I saw Joey Diaz whom I worked with at the copy place in Harvard Sq. (I worked at a few copy places in my day. I actually was working at a copy place during the time when that frickin' "Copy Guy" skit was playing on Saturday Night Live. People would come in and say "Heh..Makin' copies!" as if they were not only the first person that day to say it to me but the first person ever to say it. They weren't. Luckily for me, I was already dead inside. Side note: who knew that the "Copy Guy" had a name? It was Richard. Wow..I really do suck).
Then on came American Music Club and they sounded fantastic. I wasn't that familiar with their stuff but they're really good. Great even. We hung out for their set and realized that it was now 12:15 am on a school night. Fudge. The Wiff turned to me and said "I have to get up in 5 hours." By the time we said our goodbyes and got out of Allston and back to the castle we call home it was 1 am. So right now I'm functioning on about 4 hours sleep (thereabouts). Not horrible when your younger and dumber but when your old and (still) dumb, 4 hours really doesn't cut it. I feel jet lagged without having to take my shoes off and walk on industrial carpeting.
Continuing with the reunion theme, I saw this guy Phil that I knew from a million years ago. Then later on I saw Joey Diaz whom I worked with at the copy place in Harvard Sq. (I worked at a few copy places in my day. I actually was working at a copy place during the time when that frickin' "Copy Guy" skit was playing on Saturday Night Live. People would come in and say "Heh..Makin' copies!" as if they were not only the first person that day to say it to me but the first person ever to say it. They weren't. Luckily for me, I was already dead inside. Side note: who knew that the "Copy Guy" had a name? It was Richard. Wow..I really do suck).
Then on came American Music Club and they sounded fantastic. I wasn't that familiar with their stuff but they're really good. Great even. We hung out for their set and realized that it was now 12:15 am on a school night. Fudge. The Wiff turned to me and said "I have to get up in 5 hours." By the time we said our goodbyes and got out of Allston and back to the castle we call home it was 1 am. So right now I'm functioning on about 4 hours sleep (thereabouts). Not horrible when your younger and dumber but when your old and (still) dumb, 4 hours really doesn't cut it. I feel jet lagged without having to take my shoes off and walk on industrial carpeting.
Friday, March 21, 2008
The Pogues and Frat Boys Don't Mix
Wow. Ok. Um...
So last night The Wiff and I ventured into Boston to see The Pogues play at the Orpheum. I used to have a job where I drove around Boston all day so I was pretty sure that I'd be able to find a place to park fairly easily. Yeah, wrong. I haven't been driving in Boston in probably 5 years but holy hell! Where'd all the parking spots go? All my super secret spots had vanished or transformed into not-so-secret restricted parking. Everywhere I looked there was another restriction: No Parking from 4-6 PM, No Parking Loading Zone, No Parking Fatty, etc. So I abandoned the downtown area and headed for Back Bay. After battling the jackasses rushing to get home (oh, and by the way pedestrians? Yeah, hi, I'm the guy in the car. I have to obey the rules of the road so could you maybe do the same? Stop frickin' walking across the street randomly), I found a spot on Beacon St. by the Common. Not too bad of a walk, just right across the way from Tremont.
Then we went to grab something to eat. I haven't really thought about going out to dinner in that part of Boston in quite a while so I had no idea what was around. We stopped in a couple of places but at 6-ish on a Thursday, most of them were packed. I don't do packed. We ended up at this restaurant/bar called Kennedy's which I can't really recommend. I think that if we had sat in the bar area (which we usually do at places like this) we would have had a good time but we sat in the restaurant area and had a waiter who clearly did not want to be there. I wouldn't want to be a waiter either but that's why I'm not one. This guy just had no interest in making our time there enjoyable. But whatever right? I'm going to see THE POGUES! Hooray!
Yeah, about that. The seat rows (up in the nosebleeds in the upper balcony where our seats were) we so close together that I literally could not get my legs in front of me. I was sitting in the aisle seat and my legs were splayed out on the stairs. I had to sort of sit sideways with my left leg pressing painfully up against the seat in front of me. It really sucked. But I figured whatever right? I'm going to see THE POGUES! Hooray!
The first band came on and they were your run of the mill bar band. Nothing special. I guess there were some members of the Dropkick Murphys in the band but since I can't stand that band, guess what I thought of these guys. They end their set and the house lights come up. I'm sitting there (uncomfortably) and checking out the crowd. Oldie. Oldie. Freak. Oldie. Nozzle. Oldie. Meh, I can deal with these people. Not a problem. Then THEY showed up. The Abercrombe crowd. Oh fuck no. They have discovered my music. This show is doomed.
Five chicks and a couple of moussed dudes come up the stairs, each one of them carrying a beer (which I can only assume is a Bud Lite or some other swill). Almost immediately they start in with the photo shoot. What is up with that? The chicks start posing and taking pictures (all with that goddamn kissy-face look too. Y'know?) and the dudes start "WOOOOOOOO!"-ing. A lot. There was a lot of that. What are you "woo"-ing at? The CD they're playing? Sit down Chad.
Then even more of them showed up. And now we're basically surrounded (with the exception of the couple sitting directly behind us who also had much contempt for the frat party). The combination of cheap beer, hair products and Axe Body Spray was nauseating. I guess when you don't have much of a personality it must hinder your bladder control because these maroons kept getting up to pee like every couple of minutes. Good, I thought, get it out of your system now so that when the show starts, you won't annoy me anymore. Wrong again. The annoying college kids (that may be redundant) kept getting up to pee, coming back with shitty beer and then getting up to pee again. Holy hell. I just want to watch the show and maybe try to salvage this evening.
The show starts with a recording of The Clash's "Straight To Hell" and The Pogues walk out on stage. Shane comes shambling out wearing a black suit and a big black top hat. Hee! There they are! Forget the douche nozzles sitting around me! This is gonna rule! And it did...for a while. They plowed through a few songs and the crowd was really having fun. Shane would introduce the song which basically sounded like this "GGrarrbblug fffreanablle Street" and then they'd launch into "Sunny Side of the Street". Then for whatever reason, Shane would just leave the stage and Spider would sing a song or two. Then Shane would lumber back and slog through a couple more tunes. He was literally leaving out entire verses of songs. He was kind of off the beat a couple of times too. Much to the band's credit, they were able to really minimize his destruction of their best-known songs. Y'know, maybe back in the 80's when he was in his 20's this was ok but now that he's into his 50's, it really has lost its charm.
We had heard through a guy at work who saw the show on Wednesday night that they play 5 encores. Well, we left after the main set. And I'm ok with that. The combination of the drunk college kids in the crowd and Shane messing up the songs made for a less than stellar experience. Look, I'm too old and cranky for this. We made our way downstairs and wow, the police presence was impressive. There were about 5 cops in the lobby and a couple more standing just outside the doors. I'm glad we left when we did. We avoided the crush of people leaving and I didn't have to punch anyone in the face repeatedly.
We walked back to our car across the Common and got our old butts back home. Now I have seen The Pogues and I guess I really don't need to see them again. That's a shame. I never did see them during their height (and I totally missed them when Joe Strummer was singing for them for a bit...dammit, that would have been great) and that time has passed.
So last night The Wiff and I ventured into Boston to see The Pogues play at the Orpheum. I used to have a job where I drove around Boston all day so I was pretty sure that I'd be able to find a place to park fairly easily. Yeah, wrong. I haven't been driving in Boston in probably 5 years but holy hell! Where'd all the parking spots go? All my super secret spots had vanished or transformed into not-so-secret restricted parking. Everywhere I looked there was another restriction: No Parking from 4-6 PM, No Parking Loading Zone, No Parking Fatty, etc. So I abandoned the downtown area and headed for Back Bay. After battling the jackasses rushing to get home (oh, and by the way pedestrians? Yeah, hi, I'm the guy in the car. I have to obey the rules of the road so could you maybe do the same? Stop frickin' walking across the street randomly), I found a spot on Beacon St. by the Common. Not too bad of a walk, just right across the way from Tremont.
Then we went to grab something to eat. I haven't really thought about going out to dinner in that part of Boston in quite a while so I had no idea what was around. We stopped in a couple of places but at 6-ish on a Thursday, most of them were packed. I don't do packed. We ended up at this restaurant/bar called Kennedy's which I can't really recommend. I think that if we had sat in the bar area (which we usually do at places like this) we would have had a good time but we sat in the restaurant area and had a waiter who clearly did not want to be there. I wouldn't want to be a waiter either but that's why I'm not one. This guy just had no interest in making our time there enjoyable. But whatever right? I'm going to see THE POGUES! Hooray!
Yeah, about that. The seat rows (up in the nosebleeds in the upper balcony where our seats were) we so close together that I literally could not get my legs in front of me. I was sitting in the aisle seat and my legs were splayed out on the stairs. I had to sort of sit sideways with my left leg pressing painfully up against the seat in front of me. It really sucked. But I figured whatever right? I'm going to see THE POGUES! Hooray!
The first band came on and they were your run of the mill bar band. Nothing special. I guess there were some members of the Dropkick Murphys in the band but since I can't stand that band, guess what I thought of these guys. They end their set and the house lights come up. I'm sitting there (uncomfortably) and checking out the crowd. Oldie. Oldie. Freak. Oldie. Nozzle. Oldie. Meh, I can deal with these people. Not a problem. Then THEY showed up. The Abercrombe crowd. Oh fuck no. They have discovered my music. This show is doomed.
Five chicks and a couple of moussed dudes come up the stairs, each one of them carrying a beer (which I can only assume is a Bud Lite or some other swill). Almost immediately they start in with the photo shoot. What is up with that? The chicks start posing and taking pictures (all with that goddamn kissy-face look too. Y'know?) and the dudes start "WOOOOOOOO!"-ing. A lot. There was a lot of that. What are you "woo"-ing at? The CD they're playing? Sit down Chad.
Then even more of them showed up. And now we're basically surrounded (with the exception of the couple sitting directly behind us who also had much contempt for the frat party). The combination of cheap beer, hair products and Axe Body Spray was nauseating. I guess when you don't have much of a personality it must hinder your bladder control because these maroons kept getting up to pee like every couple of minutes. Good, I thought, get it out of your system now so that when the show starts, you won't annoy me anymore. Wrong again. The annoying college kids (that may be redundant) kept getting up to pee, coming back with shitty beer and then getting up to pee again. Holy hell. I just want to watch the show and maybe try to salvage this evening.
The show starts with a recording of The Clash's "Straight To Hell" and The Pogues walk out on stage. Shane comes shambling out wearing a black suit and a big black top hat. Hee! There they are! Forget the douche nozzles sitting around me! This is gonna rule! And it did...for a while. They plowed through a few songs and the crowd was really having fun. Shane would introduce the song which basically sounded like this "GGrarrbblug fffreanablle Street" and then they'd launch into "Sunny Side of the Street". Then for whatever reason, Shane would just leave the stage and Spider would sing a song or two. Then Shane would lumber back and slog through a couple more tunes. He was literally leaving out entire verses of songs. He was kind of off the beat a couple of times too. Much to the band's credit, they were able to really minimize his destruction of their best-known songs. Y'know, maybe back in the 80's when he was in his 20's this was ok but now that he's into his 50's, it really has lost its charm.
We had heard through a guy at work who saw the show on Wednesday night that they play 5 encores. Well, we left after the main set. And I'm ok with that. The combination of the drunk college kids in the crowd and Shane messing up the songs made for a less than stellar experience. Look, I'm too old and cranky for this. We made our way downstairs and wow, the police presence was impressive. There were about 5 cops in the lobby and a couple more standing just outside the doors. I'm glad we left when we did. We avoided the crush of people leaving and I didn't have to punch anyone in the face repeatedly.
We walked back to our car across the Common and got our old butts back home. Now I have seen The Pogues and I guess I really don't need to see them again. That's a shame. I never did see them during their height (and I totally missed them when Joe Strummer was singing for them for a bit...dammit, that would have been great) and that time has passed.
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