Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details.The trouble with being a middle-aged delinquent. By J. G. Fabiano Every now and then one has to get off the island: by island I mean away from York and all its beaches. This is a very difficult thing to do in the summer but a change of scenery is important. So my wife and I decided to spend a night in Portsmouth with some very good friends from Kennebunk. We ate at a wonderful restaurant called the ‘Green Monkey’. We have eaten there before and have never had a mediocre meal. They were always remarkable and friendly. On this particular evening the food and the service was even better. The only problem with this particular establishment was it was difficult to get a reservation. My friend from Kennebunk made the arrangements and we had a wonderful time in a truly wonderful place. After dinner we decided to go and find some music and after-dinner libations. This is difficult for people our age because most of the clubs of Portsmouth are filled with people who could easily be our sons and daughters. Hell, some of them could easily be our grand-children. In the past we always felt a bit uncomfortable because we felt more like chaperones then revelers. We tried to stay away from the clubs that tried to attract a younger clientele with loud music and multiple beers and drink specials. There probably are some clubs that specialize in blues and jazz but we as a group have yet to find that place. After finishing our meals and laughing a whole bunch we decided to visit a place I have been going to for the past three decades. It is called, ‘The Press Room’. This particular eating and drinking establishment used to be famous for their Friday evening jam session with the many Irish musicians that live in and around Portsmouth. Ever since my wife joined in with a jam session and played the spoons I always had a warm feeling about that place. This particular restaurant also has an upstairs room they use as a club that specializes in different styles of music. I told my friends we should give it a try because other than the other clubs in Portsmouth there was a chance on this particular weekend they may want to cater to people of our age. It always surprises me there are not more clubs like this because people of our generation have the money to spend. Or, at least that is what I say. We paid our bill and thanked the people of the restaurant for another marvelous meal. The walk over to the ‘Press Room’ was a pleasant one because the predicted rain had held off and even though it was a summer weekend there were few people on the street. During our walk we talked how the high gas prices and continual state of war was probably taking its toll on the psyche of this seasons summer vacationers. But, that is a whole different story. We arrived at the restaurant and walked to the stairs that led to the upstairs lounge. The bar reminded me of the Pubs of England with its dark wood and long beer paddles sticking out of the bar like some sort of floral display. There was a woman standing on the stairs collecting the $5.00 cover charge that, I assume would be paid to cover the cost of the music. The basic problem was there was little sound coming from the lounge. There were plenty of people in the bar and restaurant but the upstairs room was surprisingly quiet. Because of this my friend asked the gatekeeper what type of music was being offered and if the band was on some sort of break. When we walked into the Press Room we noticed a sign that said the band would begin playing at 9:00. Since it was around 9:30 we were wondering why there was little music playing upstairs. The woman told my friend she did not know what type of music they were offering and continued to state she did not know if the band was playing or not. Her attitude was far from friendly and because of this my friend told her we would go the bar, have a drink, and wait until the band starts to play so we can make the decision to either go upstairs or find another place to play. The gatekeeper did not like this particular statement from my friend from Kennebunk. He then asked what we wanted and all of us decided to get a light beer. We had just had a remarkable meal and had little need of anything to fill our already over-filled stomachs. My wife and her friend waited and I decided to go over and talk with them as my friend bought the first round. After about five minutes my friend came back to our little group empty handed. He told me there was no one behind the bar and everyone was basically ignoring us. I then started to focus on the people who were sitting at the bar. They were very quiet and all of them seemed to stop talking. At that particular point this did not seem odd to me except for the fact there was no bartender in sight. My friend, who was getting a bit perturbed went over to the woman he had earlier talked to on the stairs. He asked if there was a bartender on duty. She basically ignored him. I then knew something was wrong. Did we become too old to frequent a place I had visited over the past three decades? A place I had always been welcomed with a smile and Harps beer? Or were they so short handed they couldn’t find a bartender? Or did they not like our clothes or our socks or even the way we cut our hair. I then decided it must be my breath. A few seconds later a bartender appeared behind the bar. He was carrying a few six-packs of beer. My friend then went up to him to finally order our beers. What happened next shocked the hell out of me. He told him he was told not to serve us because we had more then enough to drink for the night. There are very few times in my life when the cliché, ‘my head snapped back’ was true. The only thought that came into my mind was how the heck we had too much to drink when we never had a drink in the bar. In other words, this was the first time in my life I was thrown out of a place for not having a drink. My friend then asked how the hell they could make that kind of a decision since we just arrived at the bar a few moments before. The bar tender did not answer my friend but rather looked up to the girl standing on the staircase a few feet away. At that point I discovered we had somehow insulted the gatekeeper on the stairs. I actually became a little afraid by imagining her with Viking horns and long braided blonde hair holding onto a sword the size of a Ford. He then said the girl on the steps made this decision because we were obviously drunk. ‘Drunk?’ I thought. How could we be drunk when we just arrived at the bar after a fine dinner looking for some entertainment? I started to smile because of the absurdity of the moment. My friend decided not to laugh. He immediately went up to the now famous gatekeeper to find out how she could make this judgment? I started looking around the downstairs lounge and noticed people with beer in front of them that were mumbling to themselves, another patron who seemed to be slithering out of his stool, and a third who had at least four shot glasses in front of him. I then started to laugh because I couldn’t believe I had walked into what was once one of my favorite pubs after a wonderful dinner only to be told I had too much to drink. My friend was still not laughing. He kept on asking how she could make that decision. He also asked her if after she took our money for the cover charge was she not going to serve us upstairs? As soon as he said this more things made sense. The reason the gatekeeper wanted us to leave was because we did not want to pay the cover charge before we heard the band. I have yet to figure out why that would make a difference other then for the fact this band must have been awful. In fact, not hearing anything upstairs, including patrons, the whole situation started to become logical. I finally peeled my friend off the back of the girl, the bartender, and what I assumed was a bouncer because his arms were bigger then my thighs. I did this to keep the teeth I had come to enjoy in my mouth instead of on the floor. I then looked at all three of them and I thought I heard one of them call me something I will never be able to repeat in any written material. I just looked at them and told them to have a good night. I find being nice with a wide smile aggravates the hell out of people you want to aggravate. Every now and then one has to get off the island. Just be careful not to wander to far away from home. The End.
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