Steve asked if I had a problem with him listening to the Green Bay game on Sunday, while we drove to Philadelphia for the Paul Weller concert. Then he busted out a Sirius radio receiver, and had it tuned-in before the “o” part of my “no” was completed.
Steve’s been a full-on Packers fanatic as long as I’ve known him, and I’ve known him since, like, third grade. So we listened to the second half of the game, and he was getting all animated with it. I was starting to become concerned; I was afraid someone might throw an interception or something, and he’d lose control of himself, grab the steering wheel, and send us rocketing off the turnpike.
But everything worked out OK, the Packers won, and we easily found the neighborhood where the theater was supposedly located. It’s a place called the Trocadero, which neither of us was familiar with. Turns out it’s a former vaudeville/burlesque house, dating back to 1870(!).
We pulled into a parking lot nearby, and the guy told me I could leave my car wherever I wanted. So I parked, and he said he was going to give us a deal and only charge us thirteen dollars. The regular rate, he claimed, was twenty-eight.
Yeah, I’m not even sure he worked there…
When the concert tickets arrived in the mail, there was also a coupon advertising an Irish pub, called Moriarty’s. Thirty beers on tap, it said, and only two blocks from the theater. Sounded good, so we set out in search of it.
But we thought it might be a good idea to find the Trocadero first…
We returned to the main street, and realized we were in Chinatown. Most of the signs were in Chinese, and Steve and I towered over everyone on the sidewalk. For a few minutes I felt like Wilt Chamberlain, except there wasn’t a need to strap anything to my inner-thigh.
We located the place, and a big roly-poly nerd in a Jam t-shirt (tucked-in) was already standing outside. It was five o’clock, probably four hours before Weller would take the stage, but the guy was already out there, staring at the building. TF?
We gave him a sup? lift of the chin, and headed toward the bar. And two blocks, my ass! That coupon was a straight-up liar. It was more like five blocks from the theater, maybe six. And hurricane Ike had shoved all the hot and humid air from the southern states, right up our tailpipes. By the time we reached the second block, I looked like I’d recently fallen into a lake.
The bar appeared promising – and popular. It was packed, and there was a hostess by the front door. “Do you have a reservation?” she asked. At a pub? Oh man, I was getting a bad feeling about this… I told her we’d just sit at the bar if there wasn’t a table, and she said not to worry, and seated us without delay.
I don’t understand…
The waiter gave us menus, and we requested he bring us two Boddington’s, as quick as he could fetch ’em. It was oppressively hot outside, and not much cooler inside.
I ordered shepherd’s pie for dinner, and it turned out to be excellent. Better, in fact, than the questionable and gristly version I was served in England.
After the Boddington’s I opted for a pint of Flying Fish summer ale, which was also very good. Then, a Victory Hop Devil.
Our waiter, at one point, said, “So, are you guys going to the show tonight?” I’d been checking out the clientele, and the Playbills they were carrying, and had a suspicion the theater mentioned on the coupon wasn’t the Trocadero. This was more of a Broadway-style crowd.
So I asked him which show he was talking about, and he said, “State Fair?”
The hell? Did this guy think we were a gay couple, out on a date? State Fair? Doesn’t that feature show tunes and much sashaying-about? We straightened him out on the situation, so to speak, but he had no idea who Paul Weller is, and had never heard of The Jam.
“But I’ll Google them!” he promised. Heh.
A man with a fake leg was sitting at the bar during the Flying Fish segment of the evening.
He was wearing shorts and a plastic leg. Why shorts? To keep his remaining leg cool? I guess that’s valid… And do they make prosthetics with hair on them? I think they should; this guy’s was shiny and slick. Also, do they have different shades, to match-up with skintone? Do some people buy summer legs, and winter legs, to accommodate tans, and such?
Yes, we got into a lengthy discussion about prosthetics, over adult beverages. And when the guy got up and left, and was immediately replaced by another man, it was kind of a letdown. Two legs? How dull.
We had a good time at Moriarty’s, and I recommend it highly. Lots of interesting draft beers, atmosphere, and great food… How can you go wrong? I submit that you cannot.
We walked around the neighborhood for a while, and ended up in a yuppiefied area. We started to go into a Borders bookstore but the doors were locked, even though dozens of people were inside. Apparently they were doing inventory? Who the hell knows?
We kept walking, and found a Hard Rock Café. It had already been upwards of thirty minutes since our last beers, so we went inside. We sat at the bar, my shoulder blade wedged against the corner of a framed Pearl Jam poster, and ordered a couple pints of Sam Adams Oktoberfest.
The beer was good, but the prices were not. Funk dat! We walked through their gift shop and urinated in their men’s room (I would’ve preferred cutting out the middleman and just pissing in the gift shop), and bailed out of there.
And right outside the door, on the sidewalk, was a pair of men’s underwear. We stood and looked at them, wondering how in God’s name such an item could end up in the doorway of a busy downtown restaurant. Here’s a picture I snapped with my cell phone.
And Steve said, just like he would’ve said when we were fourteen, “I dare you to touch them.” Yeah, I’ll do a lot of things on a dare, but that ain’t one of ’em…
We returned to the theater, and it’s tiny inside. And crumbling. In fact, the ceiling of the main room is covered with a net, to catch falling plaster. It was like an oven in that bitch, and they only sold beer in the balcony area, which was even hotter.
I had a Yuengling in the rafters, and we staked-out some prime real estate on the main floor downstairs. Paul Weller… as towering a figure as Springsteen in Europe, playing in a place like this… And it wasn’t even completely full.
I’ll spare you the musical details, for now. Maybe I’ll play rock critic, over at Suggestaholic? Or maybe I won’t. I mean, I’ve still got a long-overdue Nancy update to write… Here’s the Philadelphia Inquirer review, for now.
And I’ll leave you today with a few semi-related discussion points.
About fifteen years ago I visited Philadelphia, and it seemed like everyone was abrupt and incredibly rude. Then I returned a year later, and had a similar experience. So, Philly became cemented in my mind as The Rudest City in America.
But since that second visit, I’ve been back several times and not had a problem. My stance on the whole Philly-is-rude thing is starting to weaken. Perhaps I was too harsh in my original assessment?
And since I’ve never had a problem in New York either, I might actually be left without a Rude City in my arsenal. Which is kind of a shame…
I’m pretty sure we’ve covered this one before, but what are the world’s rudest big cities, in your opinion?
Also, how do you think that pair of underwear ended up on the sidewalk outside the Hard Rock Café? Paint me a word-picture that explains such a scenario, won’t you? Use the comments link below.
And if you have any prosthetics ‘n’ alcohol stories to tell, I’d like to hear those as well. A longshot, you say? Well, maybe at other sites…
I’ll see you guys tomorrow.
Hello!
1st har har!
Damn you Britton, 2nd and Turd
Woo HOo!
i’m a little disturbed at myself, that i was disappointed that the underwear picture isn’t there…
tokyo is very very rude. i don’t speak japanese, so i’m guessing the people were probably even ruder than i’ll know.
everyone in nagasaki is really nice though
Do not have any prosthetics ‘n’ alcohol stories. Any one?
Jeff, whats this fixation on mens legs today? WTF? First Wilt Chamberlin and now a guy with one leg at a Philly bar?
Top ten two days in a row!
Oh, the Troc! I went there once in my punk rock days. The mosh pit was pretty fierce so I stayed on the fringes. But some dude sitting on the floor tried tripping me or something, so I slammed my faux Doc Martens (social equalizers!) down on his ankle. Then my best friend socked me in the face. Good times, good times.
Anyway, there was supposed to have been a remodel and I heard stories about pictures of nekkid burlesque ladies being found all over the walls under the drywall/paneling/wallpaper/whatever. I guess they’re still “remodeling”, eh?
I’m sure Philly is still one of the rudest places, but I grew up with that so I guess I’m used to it.
My guess concerning the underwear is that a couple of dudes were sitting in the Hard Rock Cafe, waiting for State Fair show and ended up in the restroom in a homo embrace. They were caught and the manager ran them off. They dropped the underwear as they made a hasty getaway.
Orlando, FL is rude. They honk their horns at the slightest infraction – the second the light turns green they’re on the horn. Everyone I saw was a nasty miserable fuck.
The guy that manages the city parks here has one leg. His fake must be a newer one, it has hinges at the knees and it’s spring loaded or something. We were drinking at Applebee’s one night (what of it?) and he hopped up from the bar and went, “Goddammit” as he hopped on his good leg and eventually fell over. It locks up on him sometimes, I guess.
Jeff, you want that Philly-is-rude stance to return, just go to an Eagles game. Or next time you want to really experience rude just go to France.
Harumpa: Why yes, I was in a dive bar once where an ancient black man with an electronic voicebox was hitting on women. He was dressed all 1940s. Imagine Stephen Hawking’s voice saying something along the lines of, “I want to ride you like a circus elephant”. Excellent!
I was also a little disappointed that the underwear picture wasn’t there. I think of them as being boxer briefs, or maybe there’s some cartoon character on the crotch.
Hairy Prosthetics. Now THAT’S a band name.
A Nancy update, my kingdom for a Nancy update!!!
I can’t paint a word story until I know the “condition” of the underwear.
Just a pair of tighty whities, y’all. Looks like only the super-secret members of Jeff’s fan club can see ’em. 😉
Kristen! The underwear picture is working now.
I think they might be panties. Note the frilly edges.
And here’s me hijiacking the comments: I once stood across a salad bar from a rather drunken gentleman (in my drum and bugle coprs. We are all half drunk most of the time) who, while trying tomake a little time with me (I was the only girl around), got bashed on the back by another corps member, at which time his FAKE EYE came flying out and landed in the Thousand Island Dressing.
Plop!
Hey, your salad is STARING at me!
I don’t know, the glass eyeball in the salad dressing doesn’t really gross me out that much. So I was sitting here thinking about what would be gross and I settled on this: somehow some guy’s big toe gets chopped off and ends up in the salad dressing – yellowed toenail and all. Gross.
Jeff – are you sure those were a pair of men’s underwear? They look like lady’s to me …
The underwear is a remnant blown in by hurricane Ike.
The Hard Rock undies were supposed to be on sale for half off, not all the way off.
I’ve been told by several people that we (San Francisco) could probably win that particular title. I’ve never noticed, but then, I’m not much of a people person anyway.
So, Jeff, how was the gig? I’m assuming he was awesome, as usual, but I need confirmation, dammit!
Happy Tuesday, Surfers!
Ah I think they are mine. I lost em somewhere in Louisana in a hurricane… Near a boy scout camp I think
Jeff,
We know how the underware ended up there…… the real question is why did you remove your drawls just to piss ????????
Oh, and living in the Haight-Ashbury as I do, underwear laying all willy-nilly in public places is pretty much the norm. We pick dog parks by the chonies-to-dog ratio. I don’t want my dog coming back from a game of fetch with a pair to tighty whiteys in his mouth – which has actually happened to several friends. Ew. I would have to stop kissing him on the mouth for sure.
Uh, that would be a pair OF tight-whiteys.
Carry on.
If you saw red lipstick on them, they belong to Gov Palin. She lost them when the pig took them out of her suitcase during her last philly visit.
Thank God the bunker cam picture wasn’t a stallion. I take it the horses name wasn’t Pegasus.
Maybe those panties are part of some kidnapping plot. “Go to the Hard Rock Cafe. There will be a pair of panties at the front door. Pick them up and sniff them, then wave them above your head. A man with a beard will walk over to you. Ask him for a match……”
I have a prosthetic but choose not share it with this crowd. Sadly I was relentlessly ridiculed as a child and still harbor some unresolved self esteem issues about it. And I see that someone has already mentioned said prosthetic and well I would like to protect my fragility. And I drink alcohol. So that is an acceptable alcohol and prosthetics comment, yes? no?
… … “You tell him they only come one to a pack. He says, “You must now place then on your head and run down the street saying HoeDeDoe, HoeDeDoe”
Shitake! In case that was me who mentioned said prosthetic, Susan, I apologize if my comments were offensive to you.
About the bee story:
Sorry this a day late, topic-wise, but Jeff’s frequent mentioning of Phil Hendrie got me curious. I checked him out, and he is hilarious.
One of his characters, Austin Amarka, informed Phil that the plural of “bee” is “bee”, and then went on to comment on the sight of a six-year old kid being swarmed by half a million bee.
Standing rule Susan – all surf reporters are off limits when replying to a Jeff question. Just not kosher to rag on a surf reporter. But anyone else is fair game.
Not booze, but close. I had a buddy that would stash his weed in his fake leg. On our last float trip 2 years ago, they were about 20 mins behind us and he lost his leg when the canoe flipped. We had pulled off to the side to snag a nap on the shore and here comes his leg floating down the river. I ran out and grabbed it, sure enough his stash was still in there, dry as a bone. Needless to say we twisted one up and waited on him to make it down where we were.
Good times.
Prosthetics story-
Round ’bout 10 years ago I was working in a piano store located in the food court of a mall, of all places. This wasn’t long after college, so I was still in touch with lots of college friends. One of them was a girl who would come in on a regular basis, whenever she happened to be in the mall, just to shoot the shit. She had a bizzare sense of humor that I enjoyed, and a prosthetic arm. Unlike the slick variety described above, this arm matched her skin relatively well, and at first glance passed for the real thing.
Anyway, I can’t remember why, but for a month or two, as some kind of promotion, the mall had put lifesize mechanical dinosaurs at certain locations throughout the complex. You’ve probably seen these things before, at children’s museams and such. They are anamatronic, and they move around a little bit, and snarl and whatnot. Well, in front of my store was a bigass Tyrannosaurus Rex.
Well, to shorten up the long story, I’m playing piano in the front window when suddenly I hear a bunch of screaming behind me, and see a stampede of crying children. Turns out, when the dinobot bent down and opened it’s mouth to growl, as it did often, my friend happend to be standing there, and she acted like she was being attacked.
I walked out of my store to see what was going on, and I saw kids trembling in fear at my armless friend, who was standing there laughing to the point of tears, and a realistic looking arm hanging out of Rex’s mouth.
i once got drunk and stole a pirate’s wooden leg.
i think jeff has a fixation on men with odd numbered legs…
Mark – those poor traumatized kids. I would have been RATF to have seen that one.
Sorry Susan.
Susan – masterfully commented.
Sucks about the relentless ridiculing. That shit is hard.
I thought that Philly was rather rude as well. It is the only place where I have ever been called a “white pig” just walking down the sidewalk. Of course it was from members of a certain well-known.. um.. sect that live in Philly, and they were just generally screaming and carrying on and yelling at anyone who wasn’t their color. But, you know. It wasn’t exactly what I would call a warm welcome.
I have never seen a prosthetic leg in real life, at least not one that was uncovered. but when I was in college waiting tables I grated almost an entire block of cheese on some poor guy’s pasta before he told me he was blind. Doh!
@ Misselle – I have been on the opposite end of the spectrum many a time and because I am light skinned, I use to get it from both sides as a kid. I had to fight my way out a couple of times too and yes I use to visit Philly a lot since I grew up in Burlington, NJ.
i see the underwear. i don’t think i feel any better.
About the bee and multiple bee thing. I guess I always thought it was bee’s nest, like they owned it or something. Not that I wouldn’t say a buncha bees stung me on my dick when I fucked a bee’s nest, but still….
I have no experience with prostheses, but (with apologies to Susan) I’ve always wanted to find a glass eye. My sister in law is an ophthalmic surgeon but she won’t give me one. I just think it would be funny to drop into someone’s drink at a party and watch hilarity ensue.
As far as the underwear goes. When a hooker takes your wallet and your outer wear it’s just business, but when she takes your drawers too- it’s personal.
I’ve never found any city to be more or less rude than any other, and I’ve worked in NYC, Philly, Baltimore, Boston, Pitt, Detroit, Chicago, LA, Milwaukee, Cleveland, Columbus, Cincy, Atlanta, Miami, DC, and a few others. They are different, but generally OK to strangers.
Boston was one of the fun cities. Strangers all told good jokes and were usually helpful. New Yorkers might bark, but when you bark back they fold like chairs at a church picnic. In Atlanta the bums provide a service (like giving directions) before asking for a handout. In Detroit they try intimidation. Chicago has the fastest drivers (I love driving there). In Cincy they’re pretty reserved, even cold to a certain degree. In LA people seem soft. Seattle is a little passive aggressive. Louisville is really friendly, strangers say hello as you walk down the street. Indianapolis is bland. Toronto makes Indy look like New Orleans. And you’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy than the Big Easy.
But those are just my impressions.
Before I continue reading this post I feel it is my duty to say: “GO PACKERS!!”
That is all.
GO EAGLES! AND STEELERS! And SHIT they play on my birthday!! Why why why must there always be the divided loyalties?!
I found Cincy to be reserved-to-the-point-of-cold too, Jorge. Liked your Star Wards reference. :o)