Race Well Run

The Crawl Leaving the Starting Line at Brew City - Bar 1&7

I re-discovered yesterday why pub crawls are so much fun. It’s not all about the adult beverages sacrificed to our effort – it was more about hanging out with a fun bunch of people as we swayed up and down Shrewsbury Street. My favorite cousin showed up just before noon followed shortly by my sister and brother in law. We decamped immediately for the start/finish line at Brew City. In a major surprise my excellent boss had traveled from Eastern Massachusetts to join us for a few bars.

Ralph's - Bar #2

We had lunch while the crowd gathered and were ministered to by our Favorite First Friday waitress who was still not putting up with any guff from my Operations Manager/Pigeon. They were both in high form and their confrontations are always entertaining. She even produced the fake pigeon that has become his Friday appellation. By the end of lunch we had the entire starting team of nine assembled.

Funky Murphy's - Bar #3

After vanquishing Brew City we crossed Shrewsbury Street for bar #2 – Ralph’s Tavern. I’d spent many a Friday afternoon looking across at Ralph’s from Brew City but had never been inside. It was not what I expected. Despite a fairly large exterior next to one of Worcester’s finest restaurants the bar was kind of small and “divey”. I don’t consider that a criticism. The bar tendress was very welcoming and pointed out there was a lot of credits on the juke box and cajoled us to play some music, as long as it wasn’t rap music (score!). Our arrival immediately doubled the number of patrons in the bar which consisted mostly of older locals who looked like they were getting their serious Saturday afternoon drink on.

The Flying Rhino - Bar #4

Leaving Ralph’s we faced the longest walk of the crawl which was met with some consternation by certain members of the group. I reasoned the longest walk should always be scheduled early in the crawl for public safety purposes. During the walk we passed a building currently undergoing renovation to become a future British Beer Company pub so the walk next time will have a watering station. Our destination was Funky Murphy’s (bar #3), a much more cookie cutter type location. It was very sedate and quiet when we took over one end of the bar. The bar tendress was a very cute young lady who seemed impressed we were on the crawl. When she learned we had just left Ralph’s she proclaimed she loved that place and had been there until late the night before. I may have to re-assess Ralph’s in light of this information.

Crowd Reduced at Burger Bar - Bar #5

Leaving Funky Murphy’s we re-crossed Shrewsbury Street and started back down the street towards the finish line. Our next stop was bar #4, the Flying Rhino, kind of a hipster restaurant with a well-appointed bar. Before entering we had to say goodbye to the Excellent Boss who had to head home. The Operations Manager, always large in the personality department, was convinced by the bar tender to try the recently re-born Narragansett beer. He spent the rest of our time there complaining how bad the beer was (glad to see it was reincarnated with the same level of taste as the original). I think the term “skunk urine” was uttered several times but in a much more colloquial manner.

The Pigeon and His Girlfriend with his Gansett Beer at the Rhino

Leaving the Rhino we lost the Operations Manager and his girlfriend who had to return home to see what kind of depredations her teenaged sons had inflicted at home. The rest of us ambled down to bar #5, the Burger Bar. You had me at “Burger”. We carved out a niche at the very busy bar and my cousin was soon deep in conversation with a guy sitting next to our group. My cousin coaches high school girls basketball in Western Massachusetts and this other guy was a referee from a neighboring town.

The Parkway - Bar #6

We left the Burger Bar and made our way to the penultimate stop, bar #6, the Parkway Restaurant and Bar. This looks like a diner from the outside but has a very well appointed sports bar on one side. We took up station at a table in the bar and were soon proud owners of a bucket of Coors Lite which met its fate in short order. The Parkway was kind of quiet, at least before we showed up, but I liked the vibe in the place. The CFO and her sister, our resident experts on the Worcester bar scene, said the Parkway is usually a lot more boisterous. While we were there I received a texted photo of the First Blog Reader from my Cali-Daughter. This had the predicted effect of having me tear up, much to the amusement of my fellow crawlers.

The Photo That Had Me Tearing Up

Leaving Parkway as the sun was setting we reached the finish line back at Brew City (bar#1 & 7) which was packed. We’d had intentions of scoring dinner there but were relegated to leaning against the wall with a small shelf for our beers to rest on. That was until our favorite waitress noticed us and somehow made a table for six appear in the main dining room. It always pays to tip well. She took very good care of us although she continued her opinions in the whole pigeon manner. She noted his absence from the finishing group – something I’m sure he’ll have to deal with next Friday. The CFO and her sister departed at this point as their brother/free uber driver showed up to transport them home – or at least to their neighborhood bar.

At The Press Box - Bar #8

My brother in law took one for the team yesterday and served as our designated driver so when we left I guided him to the CFO’s bar, called the Press Box (bar #8), on the other side of Worcester. I like the Press Box because it truly is a dive but has great people. Those two phenomena usually go hand in hand. The CFO had promised a six foot female bar tender but unless I’m sorely mistaken the bearded gentleman behind the bar was not her. The CFO and her sister were pleased to reunite with the crawl survivors and we had a very nice time there.

We made it safely home a little over eight hours after the crawl started in Brew City. My sister was pleased she’d made it to the end this time and my cousin stayed awake even through the last bar, reclaiming the dignity lost in the Keene pub crawl. I had a fantastic time because I got to hang with my cousin who was the closest thing I had to a brother in my family growing up. We don’t get to spend near enough time together but when we do its usually memorable. Yesterday certainly was no exception. Of course I can never get enough time with my sister and brother in law so the afternoon was awash with more fun than is perfectly legal.

My Cousin and I at the Press Box

My sister and brother in law had to return to Rhode Island last night while my cousin and I tried to watch a movie with rapidly drooping eyelids. My cousin’s wife checked in from her Vermont getaway with the girls and was truly impressed her husband was still in a fairly conscious state. I can’t begin to fully describe how much fun yesterday was sharing a full afternoon with friends, family, and Shrewsbury Street. I can now declare my 60^th birthday celebration is complete, but this is certainly not the last pub crawl – too much fun to wait for another birthday to explore. Panama, anyone?

More evidence from California:

Starting Blocks – If You Please

I’m definitely in girding loins territory while finishing preparations for the final Pub Crawl of the 60^th Birthday celebration season. Apparently we’ve had fairly good times on the earlier ones because some vets of the Keene crawl are showing up to spread the doctrine to the residents of Worcester. Shrewsbury Street may never be the same again. I conducted reconnaissance last night with a “rare” Friday appearance at Brew City – the start and finish line for today’s events. Our usual waitress will be working today as well and said she looked forward to seeing us before and after.

Buddy and I have spent the morning watering plants and cleaning up the first floor to receive guests, okay that was mostly me. My wife has truly ruined me. She finally figured out what I was doing today and I got the askance look last night during our FaceTime call. She didn’t look too upset at being absent as she somehow similarly managed for both the previous ones. Method to this madness I’m claiming.

Crawling with Dad and Friends

The First Blog Reader has seemingly bred true because she was out on a miniature pub crawl herself this week, if the pictures are to be believed. Her father acquired his nom de guerre Wingman, during a similar affair a couple years ago in Portsmouth. She also got some hang time with her future BFF. I’m so stoked that I’ll be seeing the entire California contingent next week in Panama along with their East Coast counterparts. I will definitely be entering the “too much fun to be healthy” zone. 

Geez, Mom I have No Idea Where Dad Is

Kept the Faith Dad

With her Friend

Happy Girl

Happy Girls

Just Loves Hanging out with Dad

Final Pub Crawl Eve

I started in November to commemorate my 60^th birthday with what could charitably be called a series of pub crawls. I commenced operations with a modest effort in Portsmouth, assisted by the stalwart Favorite Son and ABFA. It was followed by a legendary effort in my hometown with a crew too numerous to mention. Refer back to the November posts to glean a full appreciation of the epic inroads into sobriety made that day. It will be a day long remembered (make sure you use the appropriate Shakespearian pronunciation of that last word). We happy few.

The November Crew

I mention all of this because tomorrow the final chapter will be written with a Worcester Pub Crawl down Shrewsbury Street. It was obviously supposed to happen much earlier but the serial holidays and associated partying near the end of the year kept delaying opportunities. I’ve gathered an all-star team for tomorrow’s crawl as well as some local talent. My sister and brother in law fresh off their heroic November performance return as well as my cousin who vows to remain awake for the entire crawl this time. I learned today that Keene Friend was defecting and unable to attend so there’ll be a serious lack of filter available. If I get into trouble I’m going to blame him. If you’re going to be within crawling distance of Worcester tomorrow and want to join in, give me a yell.

A friend recommended the Showtime series Billions which started a couple weeks ago. I caught up on it last night and was really impressed. Paul Giamatti, who’s incapable of doing anything bad, in one of two leads, playing the US Attorney in New York City. The other lead is Damian Lewis who was so good in Band of Brothers and Homeland. He plays a self-made hedge fund billionaire. The two men are circling towards a confrontation and I really enjoyed the first two shows. There’s a very interesting graying of right and wrong. It’s well worth a watch if you have Showtime.

What would a blog post be without further evidence of Californian perfection:

Seven Days Out and Getting Dirty

Dude - I am ready for the Tropical Sun

A week from today I’ll be winging my way towards ten days in Panama getting re-acquainted with a certain Favorite Panamanian. We’ll be joined in short order by my son, the ABFA, the ABFA’s parents, Wingman, Cali-Daughter and of course the pièce de résistance – our granddaughter! It’s hard not to get excited about the prospect of all these critical elements to my happiness gathered in one location. Not that it needed any help but that location is a tropical paradise stocked with some of the nicest people in the world. I predict almost non-stop laughter.

Her Grandmother Was at the Beach Yesterday

I received updates from the California contingent yesterday with the First Blog reader modeling some of her tropical gear. In a FaceTime call later I swear she was actually responding to my voice – that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I had forgotten how fast they develop in these first months. Somehow, against all odds, she’s figured out a way to be cuter each day. It’s almost scary if this trend continues unabated.

A Lady Needs a Sun Hat as Well

Sunset in Panama Yesterday

We’re in the midst of political inundation as the nearby New Hampshire primary wends towards its final days. Something I’ve noticed is the trivialization of the office of the President. It might be a victim of the information age with the nearly constant news cycle stripping away any mystery or majesty. I look at the current list of candidates and cringe. If you have a loud enough voice and “celebrity” credentials – you’re qualified. There’s almost no discussion as to whether a candidate is actually intelligent enough or experienced both in domestic and foreign policy issues to excel at the job. The polarization of national politics with the curse of the two parties unable to work with each other had led to leading candidates consolidating either end of the spectrum and then working towards the middle where I’ still connived most Americans abide. Sadness.

I went to see Dirty Grandpa last night which had some disturbing similarities to someone I know. Deniro plays a retired Army officer trying to mold the future of his grandson. Zac Efron is unfortunate enough to play the grandson because he gets the hell beaten out of him for the entire movie. I know the script will have the PC police out in force but there’s some really funny moments in this. Deniro is excellent as the randy senior citizen cutting a major swath through Jacksonville Spring Break a couple days after losing his wife. Efron’s main job seems to be getting punched and finding ways to lose not only his shirts but his pants repeatedly.

It’s an excellent send up of several aspects of modern life but I’m sure that’ll be lost to most people who will rail against the almost non-stop lack of appropriateness, God forbid we actually offend someone with sarcastic humor. It’s like kids and mud puddles – sometimes it’s just fun to jump right in and get dirty. If you can handle humor that will push your level of discomfort then go see this. If not, run screaming away and I’m sure complaining the entire way.

Further evidence of Californian perfection:

Dreams are Made Of

The Two Bands Last Night - Great Seat

I realized a lifelong dream last night and the sublimity of that type triumph cannot be underestimated. I saw a concert involving a bagpipe band. I’ve been a huge fan of bagpipe music for as long as I can remember. My time in the military only enhanced that love. For some benighted reason or another I’d never seen a full concert with one. There’s something almost mystical about the music that calls to a warrior’s soul. It’s always stirred something in me. Of course that love of the pipes is not generally shared with anyone I know. My wife is mystified by it and usually runs screaming from the room if bagpipe music is to be heard.

Royal Marine Band

Last night, with her conveniently (if regrettably) a few thousand miles away, I was free to accomplish the bucket list task. It was not just any band either but one from the sun source of all things bagpipe – Scotland. I was honored to see the Pipes and Drums as well as the Highland Dancers of 1st Battalion Scots Guard of the British Army accompanied by the Band of Her Majesty's Royal Marines Scotland. It was everything I hoped for and more. The opening set included both the Minstrel Boy as well as Men of Harlech. The musicians from both bands were world class. I did a tour in the Old Guard and saw firsthand the best of the US military bands and they were on par in terms of excellence, which is saying a lot.

1st Battalion Scots Guard

The Marine band performed some intricate marching drills on the stage while the pipers of the Scots Guard shook the walls throughout the night. As time has passed and age continues its relentless attack on physical capabilities I’ve felt less and less connected to my former military life. Last night’s concert brought with it the siren call to arms in force. I found myself missing the comradery of wearing the uniform with old friends. I actually watched my posture for the rest of the night more closely; old habits refusing to die.

The Highland Dancers

It was a magical night that only I can understand because no one I know now truly appreciates what it meant for me. The Marine band even played a service melody of the songs for each of the US military services. They asked that veterans of each branch stand when their music was played. I was so enthralled by the music that I forgot to stand when the Army song played; by the time I realized my mistake the band had moved on the Anchor’s Away and there was no way I was standing then.

George Overlooking the Proceedings

There was a narrator, very British, who explained the long history of the military units each band represented, both predate the existence of the United States by centuries. I found it a little eerie to have a huge painting of George Washington overlooking the stage while military units he fought against performed. It’s a striking comment of how the world has changed with Great Britain now our staunchest ally instead of deadly foe. I sometimes find myself lost in history – not an altogether bad thing.

Mechanics Hall from the Outside

The biggest surprise was the venue, Mechanic’s Hall. I’d been by the place literally thousands of times. My company used to have an office on the ground floor and I could never figure out how they had the space for any of the events they advertised. The front of the building looks like just another store front on Worcester’s Main Street. I entered the concert hall for the first time last night and was amazed. It’s located on the second floor and is vast compared to what you would think based on an outside view. The central floor is surrounded by a balcony and paintings of long gone Worcester notables. There was a fairly large stage dominated by the aforementioned Father of our Country as well as another painting of Lincoln.

The Concert Hall

I was sad to leave the show with its clarion call back to my military past but I did walk a little straighter back to the car. Some things are best left in the past but I’ll have a piper at my funeral and hopefully a few more opportunities with pipes and drums before that day comes.

A Year Ago Today, Temps in the 50s Yesterday - Nearly All Snow Melted
Gotta Love New England and El nino

Today’s collection of Californian perfection: