Owl Meat's Tipsy Tuesdays: Lacrossed
I wonder what groups smelled better after their respective events: The black T-shirted Death Metal Festers or the lacrosse champions? Here's Owl Meat with this week's column:
I surmise that the intersection of the two groups was tiny. How many people were struggling with the choice of lacrosse versus head-banging with Eyehategod, Jucifer, and Autopsy?
On my way to our Falls Rd/Hamden dive bar crawl on Friday night, I spied some hot weather Goths, the sweetest goths ever. On Saturday afternoon, I saw groups of black-clad death metal fans roaming the Inner Harbor. Despite some spiked dog collars, they were neither growling nor biting. They were just hanging out and enjoying the sights.
On Saturday night I headed out for some beer and conversation. As they say in minute 29 of every VH1 Behind the Music, "And that's when trouble started." Cue ominous music and break for commercial ...
Early in the evening, I said to my friend Scott the bartender, "Something is very wrong about tonight. Very wrong."
Scott was handling the bar, service bar for the restaurant, and tables in the bar area. His bar-back was off and the restaurant had many large tables booked.
Little did I realize that on this weekend of polar opposites it would be the red-faced, AARP stick-yahoos with American Express Black cards ($7,500 fee for the first year) and pocketfuls of Lipitor who would be The Tormentors. This is a group so lacking in self-awareness and a sense of irony that they allow themselves to be called ex-laxers.
These packs of old white guys reliving their obnoxious youth through the glaucous lens of vodka and time turned into the perfect storm of boorishness. It may have been a fluke of where I happened to be, but I have never seen more obnoxious bar customers. The general modus operandi was yell-talking and yell-laughing, because if the whole room can't hear your every word, why did you buy that Ferrari?
Here are some highlights:
• The couple who loudly announced upon arrival that the bartender was missing and maybe they should leave. When Scott returned a minute later they loudly repeated the statement to him. They didn't want to see a menu, they just wanted some bread and cheese to snack on. Not a menu item. They said, "Well, it's an Italian restaurant. You have cheese. Why don't you go fetch some from the kitchen and make us a little plate?"
• Same couple wanted octopus. No octopus. Well, where could they get octopus, etc. Meanwhile twenty people are waiting for drinks.
• Another group wanted to know the specific origin of the clams and musels.
• One woman wanted the sangria ingredients and process explained in detail. She argued that those were not the proper ingredients.
• Another woman wanted to know exactly what was in the Bloody Mary mix. After much discussion she ordered a rail vodka and tonic.
• A loud guy with a man-perm yelled, "Hey, Steve," repeatedly at Scott, demanding immediate service for his group of five. When Scott arrived, he hemmed and hawed and turned to his group and asked, "So, what do you guys want?"
• A loud guy yelled the history of Little Italy to his crew and the whole bar in the most inaccurate and racist terms I have ever heard.
• One person wanted Blue Moon on tap. They only had it in bottles. He then demanded to know which draft beer was most similar to Blue Moon. He got a Coors Light ... in a bottle.
Hands down the worst crowd ever, including Yankee and Red Sox fans and the Preakness crowd.
Give me death metal fans anytime.(Photo by Getty Images)