to be fair to the super potato ole, in this picture our coney dogs look more like a punishment than lunch. although, this photo accurately conveys how i felt about 12 minutes after snarfing mine.
for dinner we ordered a 16 inch canadian sunset pizza from VIP. by the time the delivery man used the pizza box like it was a set of marachas, we were left with a 10-inch pizza. complaining about the mess seemed futile. what was he going to do, bring us a new pie? there are a lot of places in a 16-inch pizza to hide snot and cat feces.
we got to the red lion around 10:45 p.m., and for the first time in my experience with this bar, there was a line. one time i was standing outside the red lion and a woman teetered outside and emptied everything but her stomach lining all over the sidewalk. she was wearing a denim vest without a shirt underneath. i had to arc out to the street to get back inside so i wouldn't get rail whiskey and nicotene on my shoes. i hope she was compensated for the free advertising.
i learned a valuable birthday lesson this year: instead of going to the pio and hoping it's fun, i went to the fun and hoped the pio would show up. i was still trying to get my first drink when f.scottie sent me this text:
that bar made me fear for my life. happy birthday.
for a second i saw my landlord about three deep at the bar, scrubs behind him preened to pretty perfection. i did not see him again for the rest of the night. he probably left, insulted that no one yelled his name when he walked into the bar. not to mention he likes his beer on the quick, and it took two or three rounds before i figured out that each time a bartender deigned to talk to me, i should order in bulk. [by the end of the night, chuck pointed to a six pack of sam adams in the refrigerator and said: i'll take that. they even gave him the carrying case.]
i received a bad touch from a stranger while standing near the stage. i forgave him the first time, when i assumed he touched my ass on accident. but when he literally stuck his hand up my skirt and grazed lower butt flesh, i understood that this was more than just a crowded-bar coincidence. unfortunately, i couldn't discern one pervy old dirtbag from another, so i didn't know who's eyeball to gouge at with my thumbs. i hope his probation officer is reading this.
on the other hand, this sort of bar anarchy came in handy when bubbles called. i tried to take the call on the deck, but the bouncer wouldn't let me take my beer outside. i ducked into the empty men's bathroom to chat. [here i have to ask, why all the lemons in the urinal, boys?] when i opened the door, chuck was standing outside and said my favorite sentence of the night: what are you doing in the men's bathroom?
this is a random crowd shot that includes a bald spot, cleavage and i believe chuck's fannie. this, jcrew noted while watching the bands and people dance, is everything that i've ever made fun of about the duluth scene. i know, i agreed, it's super fun, isn't it? she would later leave to hit the strip club across the street. as if this was her birthday r something.
finally, he took the shirt off, handed it to me and said: happy birthday.
i put it on immediately and haven't taken it off since. other birthday loot included: a used lighter with a picture of a cougar on it; a pack of camel lights and flowers. chuck gave me the pier one cutting board i'd been drooling over, a completely thorough food encyclopedia that he said has more information than the internet and a red ipod nano! weee!
a good old fashioned walk of shame. an underrated way to welcome 32.