when the girl i saw roaming...

when the girl i saw roaming @ the parking lot, then smoking on the stoop outside the front door turned out to be the bartender who wandered in a full ten minutes after the lengthy inspection of me and my bottle by the door goon, and after i took my seat at the bar-having finally poured my own much needed libation into a plastic cup from a stack i spied on the bartop-we were already off on the wrong foot. later when the plastic proved insufficient to hold it's contents and spilled-and she finally noticed it-she took the opportunity to run into the DJ booth whereupon thick necked baldie appeared with a towel and spray bottle and made a big production of sopping up a routine and modest spill. the fact that there was almost no one in there and exactly zero of the five entertainers were remotely appealing only made the palpable negative vibe in this joint more dramatic: i don't know if it's the paranoia over the sanctioned activities, the thuggish camden element they deal with evenings and weekends, or a dysfunctional management, but it offers a downright peculiar (and unpleasant) vibe in what should be an ideally located and exquisite venue. i walked in with a bankroll burning a hole in my pocket and could not wait to flee having surrendered exactly one dollar over (the excessive, daytime) dime cover to the usual train wreck of the floppy titted harridan wreaking of eau de cheap and as subtle as a sledgehammer. it was a visit so crushingly bad i resisted the usual temptation to stop in two nearby sinkholes to 'save the day'...and just rolled down the car window, tuned in PHC on NPR, reveling in the humor and sweet summer air, and cruised home with a pocketful of lettuce and a smile as wide as the chesapeake bay on my mug...