Is this embarrasing, or what? I thought I wrote this review, and the one that will immediately follow, but apparently I was quite wrong. So without further ado, here are some very late reviews, and let's see how my memory holds up.
Floyd's Place had a bouncer out front, a large black man who just kind of waved us in and asked, since it wasn't too busy, if he could get a drink. We smiled and entered, and altough there were claims of not too busy-ness, it was actually pretty brisk inside. There were a bunch of tables, and after wending through them, you could come to the bar, a long counter with a great many types of beer available.
It's pretty much a sports bar with a hint of meat market available, and the crowd tended to be rather young and slightly desperate. We sat and drank our drinks, about which I can say absolutely nothing, and then, since we're generally so fond of the sports bar idea, headed on out as quickly as we could. Another bar next door was closed, which necessitated us calling it a night, except for the odd chance of seeing another bar on the way back to my house.
This one I know I wrote, but I have no idea what happened to it, so whatever, here's another one.
It's a nice sort of bar, friendly, the bartender a tattooed and hair dyed kind of girl. She had an Elvis tattoo on one arm, and a bunch of other tats all over. We sat in a wooden booth and ordered drinks while listening to the Not Another Teen Movie Soundtrack (which I have finally, after all these months, purchased only last week.)
There are antiquated notices on the wall about weapons and the cost of booze and so on. Jaye, the bartender, showed us around the place after we had carded her, and we saw that downstairs was another small room with seating, plus a back area that is grassy and apparently open in good weather, plus a pinball machine (I think) and definitely darts.
The crowd was kind of hip, kind of drunk, and good people. The drink was worth noticing, and the prices were pretty good. It's a good and friendly place, and at some point I'll return. Especially as it occupies a spot on one of the routes back to my house from within the city proper.
And with that, I finish up these very long delayed bar reviews.
For anyone who might have been listening, or wondering how the KISM 92.9 interview went, it didn't. For whatever reason, probably due to the very normal fact of radio that things are often delayed or bumped, we didn't get called today. We expect we'll be on still, but we're not sure when.
No really, he is. You just have to go back into the past to look at his reviews. But he's putting them up slowly but surely (mostly slowly.)
So if you go back to check it out, it's all getting to be in there. Somewhere.
Supposedly we will indeed be on the KISM morning show in Bellingham this Thursday, at about 9 am, the same time we were to be on last week. There was confusion with a second interview that was scheduled, and the usual, but we have been able to reschedule with no difficulty at all, so if all goes this time according to plan, we'll be on 92.9 in just a couple of days.
It did happen, and it was pretty good. They were nice people, and they asked good questions. Brandon and I were much better at handling the fact that they never asked questions of either of us, but rather of both at once, and just whoever answers does so. We barely overlapped each other.
The strange part, really, was that they didn't seem to have done more than glance at the website, and really didn't seem to think that was at all important. The book that Brandon might eventually be writing about it was what they thought was the big deal of the quest. Until Brandon plugged the website, about half way through, there was only a mention that the article in the PI said we had a website, nothing else. Weird.
Good interview, though.
This is a dry month, and not just in entries on the web site. Rather, I'm taking the whole month (with the exception of Passover dinner) off from drinking. Which is odd, coming after 12 months of near daily intake, often in very large quantities.
It's kind of strange, passing on booze. There's so much drinking in day to day life that I don't know how I failed to realize it. Tonight I was at a drinking event. A couple nights before, the same. Drinks were offered me over the week prior on three occasions, and again last weekend. There's always something. Normally, I'd just drink and not even notice, but now it's getting kind of odd. And it's not even a heavy month. Just normal, or even a little light, because I'm not myself producing opportunies for drinking. I'm not even trying to find these events, they're just everywhere I go.
Parties are a little more boring, that's for sure.
Oh, well. It's just a month, right?
So Sandy went on her Park River quest about a month ago, got back into town four weeks ago, and only yesterday managed to get me her write ups.
That being the case, I'm only just posting them now. But without further ado (or at least not so very much) here's Sandy's Quest. All posts are from Sandy's point of view, so the use of "I" in them signifies Sandy, not me, and so on.
Okay, here we go.
American Pie is playing on the jukebox as we walk in, and the bartender is the only person there. She's sitting at the bar playing solitaire. We asked if the place was open [Jason's note: we is Sandy and her husband Selv, who was driving] and serving anyone or if it's a club. It was open and anyone over 21 can drink there.
She makes me a very pleasant rum and coke for 2.25. She asked who we were and I told her that I'm Sandy Wilkes. She says, "I know Sandy Wilkes and you can't be her." I showed her my ID to assure her it was me. I ask who she is, and it turns out she's the old chiropractor's daughter. People don't really have names in Park River. I'm not really Sandy, I'm Paul and Maxine's daughter.
So just as we were finishing up 2 men (actual customers!) walk in and order their drinks. They are old and wearing baseball caps. And then we head out to hit then next bar.
Brandon put it on the front page, but who really notices that? I know I didn't. Anyway, the big Bar List section now lists all 570 bars, and has links to all our reviews. Note that, although the quest ended more than a month ago, Brandon is still at about bar 520 or 525, and has like 45 more reviews to post. This coming when he was at 500 when we finished. So he's only done 25 or so reviews in a month and change.
Good lord, what's wrong with him? Everyone write him mock-scathing notes at Brandon@570bars.com and make fun of him for being so slow. Nice fun, now, not the mean stuff.
Anyway, he did get the bar list updated, so now you can look at my reviews for everyplace and his reviews for just about everyplace and then go to the bar of your choice.
Soon, we'll start to hit the new bars of the city. Not all of them, and not obsessively, a la the quest. But a few, here and there. There's at least four new bars that have opened since we stopped (did I mention this was a drinking town?) and we'll probably hit at least a couple of them in the first week of May. So look for my review of those before May 7, and look for Brandon's sometime in 2004. Maybe.
There should be a new category going up, too, called New Bars, or something like that, to seperate it from the old bars of the quest.
There are more people here than at the Legion Hall, but somehow it seems sadder. Like all the bars on Main Street, there are just two little windows. A person couldn't even fit through them. Maybe that's the point. Country music was playing on the jukebox.
There are ten or twelve people at the bar and four more playing pool. Since there's no room at the bar, we go up and get our drinks (me a rum and coke, my husband juice) and take a seat at a table. The bartender didn't seem at all curious about two strangers in the bar. Some people keep looking at us; I am mildly recognizable but my husband is a complete stranger.
Sitting there listening to the chatter at the bar...it's only a little after 8 pm and the words are already slurring and there's talk of fights. Even at 2.25 my rum and coke is a waste of money. I found it so distasteful that I coule not finish it even thought I was more than halfway done. So we left it, and left the bar.
Assorted rock music plays on the jukebox during our stay at the Field. I walk in and there are decorations everywhere, there's a birthday party going on. Our bartender comes over, and I realize it's Brooke, one of my friends from school. She gives me a strange look and says, "Sandy?" Yup, it's me.
(There is a range of about 4 years younger and older that actually gives you a name rather than just a family. Ourside of that range you kind of become a reference point, like the old so-and-so place just after the stop sign there.)
Once again I am rum and coke, and once again, it's 2.25. The coke is pleasantly fizzy and the drink is correctly proportioned, quite tasty. Looking around I notice the walls are white, really white. The place doesn't smell overtly of paint or cleaners, so I can only guess that they keep it generally clean daily.
Another country music bar with not many people in it right now. There is a big TV playing a game. At this point I go into the bathroom. Very odd bathroom with no locks, not really comfortable with that. The 1st door seems to just push right in then the one stall has just the old salon-style swinging doors that cover mid-shin to mid-chest but my head was up over the doors. Didn't like that one little bit. It's probably one of the worst bathrooms I've ever been it. It was clean but I felt very exposed. I came out and my man had gotten our drinks.
Rum and coke, 2.25. The bartender seemed more interested in the game then in us. There was one other table of people who kept looking at us, wondering who we were. Some more people came in and a strange man who seems to be about a half a bar behind us comes in. With him comes some other guy who is very drunk. We are sitting near the men's room and Very Drunk needs to use the facilities. The door to the men's room is a regular door but where there should be a knob there is just a hole and there is a push handle. The man, obviously unable to see straight, is trying to go in. He feels the door, finds the hole and starts to play with his zipper. I have no intention of watching this play out. "Just go in the bathroom," I tell him, and drink as much of the bad rum and coke as I can so we leave.
The Alexander House is the last bar in Park River. It is very different from the other bars in town. It's up on the hill at the edge of town so it's physically seperated from the other bars all on Main Street, as well as being attached to the only hotel in town. It also has a restaurant. I don't know if I can give word to what a splendid break this was from some of the bars. Real windows, real tables and chairs, a fire place and a drink menu. While the game was on (I have no idea what sport or team, but most of the town was watching) the bartenders paid more attention to peope than TV.
I had my rum and coke, 2.50, and my husband found a drink for himself, an Alpine Warmer (hot chocolate and peppermint Schnapps). Even though my drink was only 25 cents more, it was heavenly after the last one. The bartender (I can't recall his name, and didn't write in down, but in typical Park River fashion, I know he's Tammy's dad) wa really friendly. We also had onion rings (yummy! batter dipped and everything a good onion ring should be) and fries. Unlike the other bars, which all pretty much had a pool table and two dart boards, there was none of that, but that would ruin the atmosphere.
Overall very pleasant, and Jason picked up the sponsorship all the way from Seattle.
We were supposed to meet a bunch of people at Club Medusa at 7PM. No one arrived there on time (except for the one guy who we did not know so he stood around outside waiting till our mutual friend arrived.)
We were supposed to meet a bunch of people here, but apparently the concept of on time totally escaped them. Everyone I called was either not there or were “just getting ready to go out.” I think that we are spoiled. Jason and I are always “ready to go” and everyone else assumes the time to go out is actually the time to get ready. Bah.
I am not innocent in all of this, but why is it that whenever you give a time for people to meet to go out, no one is ever on time. You can’t blame traffic at 9PM but I suppose you can blame parking. Why don’t people get ready with enough time to actually drive to where they are going. They could get ready or drive there and be on time, but not both.
I am almost always within 15 minutes of being on time. I am on time if I am the organizer. I don’t know why I am bitching, it is just human nature. I guess it just pisses me off and I want everyone to stop being fashionably late and just fucking show up when they said that they would.
-wOOt