The Duke of Perth, #148, is an institution. Well, I don’t really know that. Maybe it’s not an institution. They have all you can eat fish & chips (& PEAS) on both Wednesday and Friday nights. Always. That’s not a seasonal special or a “throw this on the menu so we can get rid of it”-thing, it’s something that is etched into their being.
We chose the busier of those two available nights for dinner and drinks at the DOP, and the 3 of us had to wait about 15 minutes for a table in the crowded bar area. Three of us, as Rick and I are joined by my French-Canadian hockey & music-loving journalist friend Raphael. Raphael claims to be an excellent writer, here’s his webpage. I say “claims” because he writes in French. I have no way of proving if this writing is any good, but he seems to write a lot, and other people seem to write in French on his Facebook page quite a bit too, so we’ll just take his word for it. He’s moving back to Montreal before the end of the month, that’s too bad.
The fish is good -- of course it is! They use PBR for the beer batter. There are no vulgar displays of eating tonight, which is rare when I’m at the table. I don’t think any of us get further than a 4th fish. I don’t have my notebook on me, so I can’t tell you what beers we were drinking. I know mine was dark.
That’s it for bars on 10/23. I then joined Raphael at the Metro to see Airborne Toxic Event. Prior to the show, weeks ago, when I didn’t even know this show was on my calendar, a friend and I discussed this band and decided their material was radio-friendly but incredibly overwrought. Not nearly at Meatloaf levels of overwrought (MY EMOTIONS ARE ALL HYPERBOLE!), but maybe at teenage-first-love I’ve-never-expressed-my-feelings-before and here’s-how-strong-they-are levels. Actually, those two might be reversed in terms of extremes…nevermind. You get what I’m saying, they’re not at either of those heights, but man, when they sing something, THEY MEAN IT.
So anyway. The band plays their intro song, mostly instrumental. Then they play another song I recognize from the album. Then the cover The Drifters' “This Magic Moment”, which is probably one of the 50 greatest songs ever written, and they do a good job. Of course they do a good job, they MEAN IT, and this song is about MEANING IT. I also begin to notice a recurring theme in their music, aside from MEANING IT, is that they write songs about drinking. I’m a fan of those. The show progresses, and eventually after more songs about drinking, covers of Morrisey, Springsteen, and the Jim Carroll Band, I decide these guys are actually pretty good live. So, maybe go see them if you like that kind of thing. They exceeded expectations, especially if your expectation is a 1.6 and you didn’t pay for a ticket. Damn it. I wrote this entire entry before actually reading that 1.6 review for the first time and see that Ian Cohen emphasized how they “mean it” before I thought of it. Guess that’s why he’s a writer and I just recap drinking. I shake my fist in unmasked admiration at you, Ian.
Tuesday, 10/27 – Rick and I meet the recently re-motivated Halljams at The Spread, #149. It’s a pit stop for dinner before our first visit to the recently opened Lincoln Hall down the street. The Spread used to be a classier restaurant, now it’s a standard upscale bar. Apps are ½ off, we order a lot of them -- Veggie Quesadillas, Slidersx2, Chicken Tenders, Fries, and whatever Halljams ordered (Mac Snacks?).
Our conversation topic turns to marathons…specifically Boston and New York. Nearly all of the OMTC has now signed up for Boston in April, so I’m looking forward to finishing EBONY’s 2009 mission and getting some serious winter training going. New York, being only a few weeks away at the time, and this past weekend as of this writing, turned out to be one glorious day for US men’s distance running. Meb Keflezighi takes the title wearing his USA jersey, the first American man to win NYC since 1982. 6 other Americans finish in the top 10. This inspires both Rick and I to sign up for Boston immediately after watching the race on television.
Some idiot writers in the press and online seem to have decided that since Meb wasn’t born in the US, his win doesn’t really count as American Victory. I won’t bother linking to those articles because they already don’t deserve the online traffic spikes they’ve been seeing due to their outrageous claims. Really though, America, Meb’s family moved here when he was 12 years old. He proudly wears his USA jersey in most events. He is a product of American Distance Running. He has represented our country in the Olympics. He trains with American coaches and other American athletes. He’s been an American citizen since 1998. It wouldn’t matter to me if he became an American citizen last week. Seems like some in our society only know how to connect with a person or appreciate a story when they look like you, talk like you, have the same background as you, and meet whatever high standards you require in order for them to represent and stand under the same title and flag you wave – because the standards and regulations upheld by the USCIS apparently aren’t good enough for you. Their views are full of crap. I guess we’ve got fringe everywhere now, and the problem with the internet age is that increasingly the ideas of the fringe are given status larger than that of a soapbox on a street corner. America is...
I digress. Marsden joins us at The Spread as we get our bill, and we move down to Lincoln Hall, #150. It’s a great place for such a nice round number. Fittingly for both Rick and I, the 150th bar we’ve crossed of our list this year is a music hall serving great beer and showcasing excellent music. Tonight’s lineup has friends of the gregarious Halljams, The Prairie Cartel, up first, followed by The Smith Westerns and Neon Indian. Neon Indian's show is billed as “their first in Chicago”, but faithful readers will know that EBONY saw them perform in our fair city just 1.5 months ago. Marsden has a beer with us, so he officially joins the very long list of supporters who have shared a pint and taken part on our journey this year.
The Cartel is great, as expected, although the size of the room and the mix of the band leave a little something to be desired. I want the bass and general noise to shake the room and everything in it. It’s just not quite loud enough. Hope they get this figured out for future shows (both the Cartel and Lincoln Hall). I couldn’t begin to describe the Smith Westerns, we spent their set in the front room drinking. Neon Indian was as expected, same show as before in the loft-space, just with more indie-kids and blogosphere readers in attendance this time around. Not a bad set, but as a Prairie Cartel member put it, “You’ll just spend the set trying to figure out if the girl is hot and the 2 guys are brothers.”
Until next time (next time being the post that includes 2 nights of our ridiculous halloween weekend). Would you dance, if I asked you to dance?
Showing posts with label the spread. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the spread. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
This is How it Starts...
With 90 minutes to kill and currently flying a mile high somewhere between Chicago and Dallas, I had planned on summing up our dutiful last saturday afternoon/evening visiting another 8 bars. Without access to the internet and our trusty notebook, I find myself dumbfounded on not only what establishments we visited, but also some specifics of what happened between 5PM and 2AM. I do know we visited 8 bars in Wrigelyville, but for the life of me I can only come up with the names of six. I think I am starting to see the negative side effects of this mission. I am constantly finding myself second guessing which bars we have already visited and now I can't even remember what happened a mere 4 days ago.
But the afternoon started something like this. We killed many morning/afternoon hours watching the USA sprint crew shoot themselves in the foot (again) in the sprint relays, started the first two episodes of Dexter (yet another distraction added to the list), and various errands. With Hall pulling his usual maneuver in ditching Kyle to go see The Hurt Locker we embarked on Wrigleyville. We knew there were still a handful of bars we still haven't graced our presence with, so we figured with the Cubs being out of town that we would adventure down Clark and stop at each one still on the list. First stop, The Blarney Stone, #116. Walking in, there was only one other patron in the bar and he was an 80 year old man with a popped collar sipping on some Jameson. We slowly sipped our two Guinesses and take notes on the aesthetics. The only coming to my mind now were the two pictures above the bar: JFK and The Pope. Not a bad company to be in I guess. Coincidentally Kyle is wearing his "The Pope is Dope" shirt this evening. I remember back in the 907 days when Kyle bought this shirt and The Pope at the time went on to pass away one week later. We debated if the shirt should now read, "The Pope WAS Dope." Yes, we know, we're going to Hell, but at least all our friends will be there. Half-way thru our meals in a can, Seidler joins us and relives he previous evening in Indianapolis, without saying too much more than I should, I'll just leave the story at that. Finally two other patrons walk in but abruptly leave after learning that this Irish bar doesn't even have Irish Mist to order. Apparently their tastebuds we're on a mission to take down the cheapest and nastiest booze available (a la our PDX adventures a few years back).
We walk back north up Clark, say goodbye to Seidler and say hello to Baumer as the next bar in sight is The Houndstooth Saloon, #117. I already have a strong hatred for this bar and this afternoon doesn't improve that perception. The bar is packed with various SEC alumnus as we split one pitcher between the three of us before immediately leaving. Only tidbit I remember from the HS (horse-shit?) is after hearing some drunk idiot jump on a table and yelling the UK fight song me saying to the group, "we need to get the fuck out of here." Some random dude in front us nodded his head in approval. The next bar we visited is currently blank from my mind, #118 (Editors Note: Rebel). All I can really remember is Baumer ordering a pitcher of 312 and he being disgusted in the cost. I also remember him asking if we are disappointed with the way The Savior has been playing this year and we are immediately taken back in disgust. Kyle's analogy linked Baumers question to that of the Cubs ability to sign Bradley, Fukudome, Miles, Soriano, or well any other Cubs player to such an amazing discount. I remember at this point being very hungry and we proceed across the street to The Spread, #119. Damn good burgers are consumed and the start of the Bears game commences. Once again, without our trusty notebook, my mind is blank on this establishment. Kyle, maybe you can fill in the blanks later this week. Now the next bar I do remember being Merkele's, #120. Aaron joins us and we watch the rest of the Bears game. We debate the proper weight class Baumer should look for in a companion and are taken back at his ceiling. At some point we add some estrogen the crew with the arrival of Annie, Abby and Kelly. I can't remember if they joined us at Merkele's, or at the following bar which also stared with an M, #121 (Editors Note: Moxie). I do remember getting free shots of Jameson somewhere along the line and also enjoying a very yummy and robust Rouge Porter. Eventually Baumers Peoria friend Jeremy and his wife join us and I remember a large portion of the discussion being centered about Big Al's (link would be NSFW). Something tells me many long nights there have shaped the current Baumer we know.
Around midnight Jeremy convinces us to head up the street to The Wild Hare, #122. Not knowing what to expect, we are blown away with where the next 90 minutes takes us. Apparently the Hare is a Jamaican bar with live raggae bands moving our hips. Many Red Stripes (Hooray!) are consumed as we all become three sheets to the wind. Before the roaring of our bellies take over, dancing ensues and an older women on the prowl tries her hardest to bring Kyle back to her lair. Fortunately Kyle had his senses with him and didn't pull a, "I'm going to see where this goes." For the eighth and final bar of the evening we cross Clark over to Bar Louis, #123. Baumer has been raving about the Atomic Fries and we concur after wetting our whistle. The atomic fries and Oberon take my mind completely away from a Fourth Meal and the evening eventually comes to a conclusion at 2AM. Not bad for an impromptu crawl.
The rest of the weekend ends up taking a toll on us even though Sunday included no drinking. Sunday was started by minimal sleep by waking up early to catch the final day of the World Track and Field Champs live from Berlin. The 5K was well worth our lack of sleep in seeing 10 guys tied at the bell lap and catching the eventual battle between Lagat and Bekele the final 50. With Bekele taking the reigning 1500 and 5K champ to school, there is no question Bekele now holds the title of being the GOAT. Great American showings all around this week 3 men and women in the 1500m finals - Lagat and Rowbury claiming medals, Ritz and Rupp in the 10K (watch out Med, your AR is going down at Stanford next spring), Symmonds in the 800, Solinksy and Tegs in the 5K, and Jenny B in the steeple. The other big news from Berlin being the very manly Semenya absolutely dominating the women's 800. The rest of Sunday is spent in the direct sunlight sans lotion at the Sox game. The effects of such are still being felt 2 days later and I look like a lobster and feel completely drained. Sunday concluded with another outstanding epidsode of True Blood. Many questions will need to be resolived around MaryAnn and the rest of Bon Temp in the final two episodes.
Random conversation I've heard at ORD so far:
"and the doctor said he only has another 20 years to live"
"that's not that bad, how old is he?"
"three"
"oh..."
"seriously! i can't believe Barack is bringing Bernake back for another four years, he is the reason the stock market crashed."
"mommy, that is the Spanish flag"
"good job sweetheart" (she was actually pointing to the flag of Argentina.
But the afternoon started something like this. We killed many morning/afternoon hours watching the USA sprint crew shoot themselves in the foot (again) in the sprint relays, started the first two episodes of Dexter (yet another distraction added to the list), and various errands. With Hall pulling his usual maneuver in ditching Kyle to go see The Hurt Locker we embarked on Wrigleyville. We knew there were still a handful of bars we still haven't graced our presence with, so we figured with the Cubs being out of town that we would adventure down Clark and stop at each one still on the list. First stop, The Blarney Stone, #116. Walking in, there was only one other patron in the bar and he was an 80 year old man with a popped collar sipping on some Jameson. We slowly sipped our two Guinesses and take notes on the aesthetics. The only coming to my mind now were the two pictures above the bar: JFK and The Pope. Not a bad company to be in I guess. Coincidentally Kyle is wearing his "The Pope is Dope" shirt this evening. I remember back in the 907 days when Kyle bought this shirt and The Pope at the time went on to pass away one week later. We debated if the shirt should now read, "The Pope WAS Dope." Yes, we know, we're going to Hell, but at least all our friends will be there. Half-way thru our meals in a can, Seidler joins us and relives he previous evening in Indianapolis, without saying too much more than I should, I'll just leave the story at that. Finally two other patrons walk in but abruptly leave after learning that this Irish bar doesn't even have Irish Mist to order. Apparently their tastebuds we're on a mission to take down the cheapest and nastiest booze available (a la our PDX adventures a few years back).
We walk back north up Clark, say goodbye to Seidler and say hello to Baumer as the next bar in sight is The Houndstooth Saloon, #117. I already have a strong hatred for this bar and this afternoon doesn't improve that perception. The bar is packed with various SEC alumnus as we split one pitcher between the three of us before immediately leaving. Only tidbit I remember from the HS (horse-shit?) is after hearing some drunk idiot jump on a table and yelling the UK fight song me saying to the group, "we need to get the fuck out of here." Some random dude in front us nodded his head in approval. The next bar we visited is currently blank from my mind, #118 (Editors Note: Rebel). All I can really remember is Baumer ordering a pitcher of 312 and he being disgusted in the cost. I also remember him asking if we are disappointed with the way The Savior has been playing this year and we are immediately taken back in disgust. Kyle's analogy linked Baumers question to that of the Cubs ability to sign Bradley, Fukudome, Miles, Soriano, or well any other Cubs player to such an amazing discount. I remember at this point being very hungry and we proceed across the street to The Spread, #119. Damn good burgers are consumed and the start of the Bears game commences. Once again, without our trusty notebook, my mind is blank on this establishment. Kyle, maybe you can fill in the blanks later this week. Now the next bar I do remember being Merkele's, #120. Aaron joins us and we watch the rest of the Bears game. We debate the proper weight class Baumer should look for in a companion and are taken back at his ceiling. At some point we add some estrogen the crew with the arrival of Annie, Abby and Kelly. I can't remember if they joined us at Merkele's, or at the following bar which also stared with an M, #121 (Editors Note: Moxie). I do remember getting free shots of Jameson somewhere along the line and also enjoying a very yummy and robust Rouge Porter. Eventually Baumers Peoria friend Jeremy and his wife join us and I remember a large portion of the discussion being centered about Big Al's (link would be NSFW). Something tells me many long nights there have shaped the current Baumer we know.
Around midnight Jeremy convinces us to head up the street to The Wild Hare, #122. Not knowing what to expect, we are blown away with where the next 90 minutes takes us. Apparently the Hare is a Jamaican bar with live raggae bands moving our hips. Many Red Stripes (Hooray!) are consumed as we all become three sheets to the wind. Before the roaring of our bellies take over, dancing ensues and an older women on the prowl tries her hardest to bring Kyle back to her lair. Fortunately Kyle had his senses with him and didn't pull a, "I'm going to see where this goes." For the eighth and final bar of the evening we cross Clark over to Bar Louis, #123. Baumer has been raving about the Atomic Fries and we concur after wetting our whistle. The atomic fries and Oberon take my mind completely away from a Fourth Meal and the evening eventually comes to a conclusion at 2AM. Not bad for an impromptu crawl.
The rest of the weekend ends up taking a toll on us even though Sunday included no drinking. Sunday was started by minimal sleep by waking up early to catch the final day of the World Track and Field Champs live from Berlin. The 5K was well worth our lack of sleep in seeing 10 guys tied at the bell lap and catching the eventual battle between Lagat and Bekele the final 50. With Bekele taking the reigning 1500 and 5K champ to school, there is no question Bekele now holds the title of being the GOAT. Great American showings all around this week 3 men and women in the 1500m finals - Lagat and Rowbury claiming medals, Ritz and Rupp in the 10K (watch out Med, your AR is going down at Stanford next spring), Symmonds in the 800, Solinksy and Tegs in the 5K, and Jenny B in the steeple. The other big news from Berlin being the very manly Semenya absolutely dominating the women's 800. The rest of Sunday is spent in the direct sunlight sans lotion at the Sox game. The effects of such are still being felt 2 days later and I look like a lobster and feel completely drained. Sunday concluded with another outstanding epidsode of True Blood. Many questions will need to be resolived around MaryAnn and the rest of Bon Temp in the final two episodes.
Random conversation I've heard at ORD so far:
"and the doctor said he only has another 20 years to live"
"that's not that bad, how old is he?"
"three"
"oh..."
"seriously! i can't believe Barack is bringing Bernake back for another four years, he is the reason the stock market crashed."
"mommy, that is the Spanish flag"
"good job sweetheart" (she was actually pointing to the flag of Argentina.
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