This website says everybody’s talking about the Thirsty Parrot because it's the hottest ticket in town.
Well, the only people talking about it Friday evening were me and The Skimmer. I dialed my cell phone.
"I'm down here at this place and it's closed. And I mean closed closed. Out of business closed."
"Where are you?"
"I'm in the parking lot. I'm trying to think of where to go."
"I don't like you by yourself in that parking lot."
"Well, it's alright. It's daylight and I'm walking toward E. 9th now. I don't see any bad guys. And if I do, I'll throw my cell phone at them."
"Well, you were robbed in broad daylight, remember? Didn't you guys check to see if that bar was open?"
"Yeah! I did! But, decided to meet there anyway. Just for fun. I know. I'll go the The New York Spaghetti House."
I walked up the sidewalk with Jacobs' Field to my right, an area that should have been hopping at 5pm on a Friday before a holiday weekend, and stopped at the corner of E. 9th and Bolivar.
"Guess what?"
"What?"
"The New York Spaghetti House is closed. Closed closed again. The sign's even gone! How sad. What's going on down here?"
"Cleveland's in bad shape."
"Guess what? E. 9th Street is now called 'Rock and Roll Boulevard.'"
"Well, that'll bring Cleveland back. Are there any people around?"
"A couple, but they seem harmless. It's pretty dead around here. Weird. I know what I'll do. I'll go into that place that Alice Cooper used to own. But, it's not Alice Cooper's place anymore, it's called 'Local Heroes Grill & Bar.' Geez. Why can't anything make it down here?"
"Well, hurry up and get in there."
"Ok! Stop scaring me. I'm finally not scared to come downtown and you're scaring me."
I got a hold of my girlfriend and told her to meet me at the new place. She showed up about 20 minutes later and we sat at the bar catching up.
About an hour later, two young guys came be-bopping through the door. And made a beeline straight to me. Too close. Standing within a foot of me, face to face.
"Hey, how ya doin'?"
"I'm ok."
They looked at my friend, "How you doin'?"
She didn't say a word.
They backed off and walked over to a booth and sat down. They weren't there to eat or drink. They were tapping their feet and leaning back in their seats, staring at us.
Bad news.
Mel and I sat there talking and those two guys sat there staring. Mel had her back to them.
"Are they still there?"
"Yep."
I was robbed at gunpoint three years ago by a young guy. It took me a couple of years to get over it. I knew I was over it when I met a friend in Cleveland Heights to see a movie and didn't run to my car when we left the theater. It didn't matter if I was in downtown Cleveland, or an inner-ring suburb like Cleveland Heights or way out, firmly in the heart of suburbia. It didn't matter what race a guy was, how old they were or how they were dressed. If a guy came within two feet of me, I'd freeze. My fear instincts had been thrown off. And you need that instinct. If I would have paid attention to my gut instinct three years ago, I never would have had a gun in my face. Not a comfortable way to live, being scared all the time.
My fear instinct had recalibrated itself and I knew those two guys in that booth were up to no good. But, I didn't know what to do about it besides completely ignore them. But, I had already answered them when they showed up and surprised me, so I had given them an in.
They sat there for a few more minutes and then got up and be-bopped out the front door. High fiving and laughing. The manager came out from behind the bar and walked outside, watching to see where they were going.
My friend said, "Do you see them? Are they leaving?"
"Yeah, they're leaving. They're walking up the street."
"They were bad news."
"I know."
There weren't that many people in the restaurant, but everyone knew what those two guys were up to.
Mel and I sat there for another hour and a half and I knew we had to leave before it got dark. We paid the tab and then walked to my car. We didn't run.
Progress? I'm not so sure.
I'd say that's progress. :)
Posted by: Jennifer | May 27, 2007 at 04:24 PM
My verifying code was "ru7jjj" I read it as a question.
"Are you 7, JJJ?"
I sure feel like it an awful lot. 7 was a good year though so it's not a totally bad thing.
Okay, let's see what shows up this time...
Posted by: Jennifer | May 27, 2007 at 04:27 PM
I wish I remembered 7.
:(
Sad me.
That whole thing about progress? It's a huge puzzle. Who knows.
Posted by: blue girl | May 27, 2007 at 07:01 PM
That sounded like progress to me.
Arrrhhggg! I hate thinking of my friends being in trouble! Glad Mel was with ya and the Bar guy took the look.
Life sho be int'restin' sometimes, ain't it? Take CARE but keep having Fun! You're too cool to be all scared and stuff!
Posted by: Bains | May 27, 2007 at 07:41 PM
Ugh. My roommate got held up with a gun by some punk kids around the corner from our old apartment. I don't think she ever liked walking around there after that.
Posted by: Claire | May 28, 2007 at 02:11 PM
Definitely progress. I can't imagine how hard it is to get over being robbed at gun point.
Always trust your instincts in those situations. Glad nothing happened.
Posted by: Brando | May 28, 2007 at 06:23 PM
I just thought of something. I was outside the Thirsty Parrot only 2 weeks ago and it was jam packed with people!
Very very weird... {sigh}
Posted by: Michael Bains | May 30, 2007 at 09:23 AM
MB, I had a thought. Although it looked like it was out of business, it could've just been closed because the Indians weren't in town.
I used to work in that building across the street -- where Alice Cooper's bar was on the first floor. It just used to be jammin' down there. Tons of people. Didn't matter if the Tribe was playing or not. And that The NY Spaghetti House was closed, too. (And that DID seem to definitely be out of business) -- I don't know, the whole area just seemed empty and lost to me.
Posted by: blue girl | May 30, 2007 at 09:32 AM
Never thought this day would come. I kept hoping to go back to Cleveland and have a reunion with the old work friends and hit the NY Spaghetti house for lunch. Very sad.
I'll never, ever have my seashells with mushrooms and marinara again.....
BG, wish I could have hung with you and Mel.
Posted by: flemball | May 31, 2007 at 03:33 PM
Hey there, flem!
It was very sad to see The Spaghetti House sign gone. GONE!
Guess what? We were downstairs in the bar on the first floor. I hadn't walked through those doors in 10 years. Pretty wild. Lots of memories! Good ones. Brother, I miss those days!
I kept hoping "T" would pop his head in the door before leaving for home. Wouldn't that have been funny? But, he didn't.
I didn't have the courage to do my own pop-in upstairs...
Same old Mel. Doesn't matter how much time goes by.
Posted by: blue girl | May 31, 2007 at 03:38 PM
you should have gone up to see the "old gang". I will...one of these days.
It is sad. Remember Terry the parking lot guy?
Posted by: flemball | May 31, 2007 at 04:34 PM
BTW, I miss those days too. I dig my job now, but nothing and no one will replace those years we all had together at the old place.
Miss you!
Posted by: flemball | May 31, 2007 at 04:37 PM