Thursday, August 27, 2009

Night, Street, Drugstore, Light

Wer&Wif and I, like so many have reported attempting to do before us, set out to drink all the beer and wine in Portsmouth. Not whole-heartedly, but we did want to have a good time, and none of us had work in the morning.

Rather than go into a tedious and likely-to-be boresome play-by-play, and knowing how much You People™ like pictures, here's a graph of the night.

Figure 1: The Quest for Consumption
Consider yourselves lucky I didn't also take a map of downtown Portsmouth, render it into a Lord-of-the-Rings script, and mark our path on that. I was tempted to. GIVE ME THE RING, FRODO.

A few words to be said of our venture (because I find the fragmentary form, though I haven't pursued it to its logical and foggy-minded extreme, more indicative of the night):

POCO'S drove us out because, according to their music, their preferred clientele was born between 1972-1977, already dying of skin cancer, and still appreciated the fine and intricate melodies of The Thong Song. I wish I was joking. Of strange, the-Universe-still-smiles-upon-this-venture importance, the one song that three of us could actually stand (and a far cry from the mid-1990s, middle school dance tunes around it):
Take these broken wings
And learn to fly again
Heh heh. I'll accept that personally and graciously, universe. <3 Icarus.

To describe The Black Trumpet I think Kurt Vonnegut said it best: "It was beautiful, and they shared." Lots of cheese, some olives, some wine. I may have coveted some of the paintings on the wall, but thankfully 1986 laws have not yet come into full effect, and thought-crime is not quite yet real-crime.

Two words for TJ's. "Sayam Summah." I just wanted to see what it was like in there because I had seen it so often from the outside but never gone in before. Like Pandora before me... I was so intimidated by the atmosphere and denizens that I put on a Boston accent in the ordering of my beer, not wanting anyone to know I can actually pronounce word-final r's, thank you very much.

As for the Coat, I have just this to say: Who thought that giving inebriated people sharp and pointy weapons was a good idea? Darts in a bar is like some mildly-accepted, half-hearted form of Darwinian social control.

Returning to the question of Universe-smiling-upon-this-venture-itude, and returning likewise to the statue of young Mr. Hovey, killed in action in the Philippines at the turn of the century -- when I went on a walk through Prescott Park the next day, a task of which we had spoken but in doing we failed, I saw, in Hovey's fountain, a single white seagull feather.

I make things more symbolic and exciting than they need to be.


Monica said...

Mr. Andrew, I would like you to know that I was born in 1976 and I'm not dying of skin cancer nor am I appreciating the melody of The Thong Song. On another note, thanks for the pics, especially the graph! I would have loved to see the map :)

Andrew said...

You are, then, not a preferred client at Poco's deck! We regret to inform you...

By the by, do you know if you and Paul and the kids are free at all on Sunday or sometime Monday? I'll be in Bow and would love to see you. I need, particularly, pictures for the blog so as to keep up with demand... ;)

Monica said...

We'll be here all day Sunday. On Monday, Paul has to work but we'll be home. Monday night is open house at BES from 4 to 5:30 so, we'll be there. Just give me a ring & let me know when you'd like to drop by. I got some awesome pics of Lauren eating ice cream yesterday at Beech Hill Farm. I'll post them as soon as I edit.

Stacey said...

Lovely account of our evening! Although - having been a paying customer of the Oar House in the past, I do have to argue that it deserves a position above Poco's on the graph. ;)

-the Wif

Andrew said...

I'm sure it does -- when it's open. Which is why I included the mention that it was closed. I am nothing if not a proponent for subjective views of reality.