{"id":10673,"date":"2015-06-19T12:17:52","date_gmt":"2015-06-19T16:17:52","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/?p=10673"},"modified":"2015-06-19T12:17:52","modified_gmt":"2015-06-19T16:17:52","slug":"portland-after-dark-starry-nights","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/portland-after-dark-starry-nights\/","title":{"rendered":"Portland After Dark – Starry Nights"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summerguide 2015 | view this story as a .pdf<\/a><\/p>\n

Enjoy the city by the light of the moon.<\/h3>\n

By Olivia Gunn<\/p>\n

\"SG15-After-Dark-Starry-Nights\"<\/a>Our group heads through the Old Port and down Commercial Street after a quick pregame on Meaghan\u2019s rooftop deck. A New Hampshire band, Best Not Broken, is set to open and we\u2019re hoping to make it before they go on, but as we pass Three Dollar Dewey\u2019s her voice surrounds us and the lights of the pier flash\u2013\u201cWe\u2019re running with the shadows of the night\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s on, she\u2019s on!\u201d We pick up the pace, racing with Neil Giraldo\u2019s guitar and our own shadows of the night to Pat Benatar on Maine State Pier.<\/p>\n

We arrive just in time to find the show\u2019s sold out and the crowd is tightly packed, so the four of us grab the most expensive Shock Tops we\u2019ve ever bought and make our way into the pack.<\/p>\n

Since we\u2019re late, we won\u2019t be getting much closer than the food vendors\u2013unless we want spilled beer down our pants\u2013because none of the true Pat fans is trying to make room for four 20-somethings.<\/p>\n

\u201cShadows of the Night\u201d ends, and Benatar welcomes her fans, quite humble and a bit shocked we\u2019re all here in what she calls \u201cfreezing\u201d weather. The fans love it, all laughing and cheering for themselves. A Mainer behind me cackles and nudges my shoulder, saying, \u201cHell, I was in cutoffs and flip-flops earlier.\u201d We all cheers-to-that as Benatar goes into \u201cAll Fired Up.\u201d<\/p>\n

With the moon hanging high above us and summer so sweet, \u201cWe Belong\u201d strikes a chord and the moment becomes surreal. Two years ago, I was leaving college behind to start a whole new chapter, and now I\u2019m rocking out with strangers on a pier in Portland.<\/p>\n

Having been raised by a mother and aunts who truly thrived in the \u201980s with their big blonde hair, bangs for days, and acid-washed jeans, I\u2019m overwhelmed by Benatar\u2019s girl power. She\u2019s a babe, and the fact she and Giraldo have been rocking and rolling together since 1979 is enough to blow any millennial\u2019s mind. \u201cYou know the best part?<\/em>\u201d Stephan shouts over \u201cHit Me With Your Best Shot.\u201d \u201cThey\u2019re getting paid to do what they\u2019d be doing any Saturday night!\u201d Cheers to that, and we\u2019re soon lost in another hit.<\/p>\n

Drive-in To The Time Machine<\/strong><\/p>\n

We pull into the dirt lot with the tiny wooden ticket booth and a red neon sign above the marquee: Pride\u2019s Corner. Fil, my forever-date, pays the 20 bucks and the Subaru makes its way back to 1953.<\/p>\n

Old-fashioned radio stands mark the individual parking spots, and though we are an hour early, some families have already made camp. Blankets and pillows fill the beds of trucks as moms try to balance everyone\u2019s hotdogs and dads scan the area, making sure they\u2019ve got the best spot. Fil and I make our way to the front row, and he parks just so to get the perfect view.<\/p>\n

Like most of the few remaining drive-ins, Pride\u2019s Corner has maintained its original snack bar, which, let\u2019s be honest, is basically the main attraction. While we did bring snacks from home, Fil and I walk over hand in hand and end up with burgers, sodas, and popcorn. Hollywood memorabilia lines the walls, and Andrew, the owner and Robert Plant look-alike, greets us at the register. Fil drops his film-school background, and a second later Andrew has brought out the entire Mad Max<\/em> reel to show him he still screens film.<\/p>\n

Looking around Pride\u2019s Corner, I\u2019m not only taken back to the Happy Days<\/em>, but the days of sitting in the back of my own dad\u2019s truck with my mom and two brothers as we stuffed our faces with Twizzlers and popcorn waiting for The X-Files<\/em> movie to start. My parents didn\u2019t have the money to take all three of us to the movie theaters, so my brothers and I would pile in the back of the Ford Ranger and cover ourselves with the blankets while my parents paid for two adults. I remember being terrified we\u2019d be caught and never allowed back in, but every time we\u2019d pull in between two other trucks, families of three, four, and five would pop up like fiddleheads from underneath the comforters in the pickups beside us.<\/p>\n

The drive-in is a totally different experience than just seeing a movie. You\u2019re seeing a movie with every single person there. You\u2019re all in it together, hoping the rain holds off, scooting closer when the sun drops, and trying to keep your eyes from closing halfway through the second feature.<\/p>\n

Pride\u2019s Corner is one of the essential summer experiences, and for the sake of every eight-year-old out there, one I hope never, ever ends.<\/p>\n

Prom Picnic<\/strong><\/p>\n

A\u00a0 friend has invited us to a real New England clambake\u2013with a group of Western Kentucky grads. Right? But, after a Sunday of errands and packing for our impending move, dinner at someone else\u2019s home sounds like the perfect remedy.<\/p>\n

We arrive at the East End apartment to find six or seven people hanging out on a back deck, Baxter Brewing Co. beers in hand, Sperrys on foot. I try to hide our six-pack of Blue Moon behind my dress, but it\u2019s snatched up by our friend Ben and taken to the fridge.<\/p>\n

He returns quickly with hugs and intros. \u201cThis is my roommate, So-and-so. Over here is So-an-so II. Oh, have you met So-and-so III?\u201d<\/p>\n

Fil and I can\u2019t keep track, but everyone\u2019s nice and, for the most part, happy we stopped by their college reunion.<\/p>\n

The sun is setting by the time Ben yells the steamers are ready and carries a giant\u00a0 pot over to the picnic table. He dumps it all on a platter, juices splashing everywhere.<\/p>\n

At first everyone is a bit shy, but I snatch up a big clam, pop it open, and dip it in the butter. That seems to open the gates for everyone, else and before you know it, we\u2019re all in\u2013clams, beers, and college stories.<\/p>\n

After we\u2019ve cleaned every shell and all feel the light buzz of drinking on a muggy night, someone suggests we take a walk on the Eastern Promenade to show the newcomers the view.<\/p>\n

By this point, Fil and I have proven we can carry a conversation, know who the young fellow working as a \u201cpersonal assistant in Kennebunkport\u201d really works for, and can handle a nip of their communal moonshine: \u201cSure, I\u2019ll try some.\u201d<\/p>\n

The group heads to the Prom, tossing a frisbee back and forth the entire way. I know, I know. I swear, this isn\u2019t a script.<\/p>\n

The sun has dropped and it\u2019s getting harder to see, but I\u2019ve found camaraderie with one of the girls who, it turns out, actually lives on a farm in Bangor, has kayaked the Mississippi, and lives in Florida half of the year. That\u2019s my kind of chick. She talks her concerns of being a \u201cgypsy\u201d forever and I assure her that there\u2019s nothing wrong with it, so long as she\u2019s happy. We\u2019re soon at the beach, and as she talks, I look to see Fil and Ben sitting at the edge of the water having what I assume is a similar discussion.<\/p>\n

Ben has become one of our closest friends in the short amount of time we\u2019ve known him, but he and his girlfriend will be moving to New Hampshire, his home state, in the coming months. It\u2019s disappointing, as we\u2019ve been making plans all year, but one thing I\u2019ve come to understand is that is that every story has an ending. That way, new stories can always begin.<\/p>\n

Take Me Out to the Park<\/strong><\/p>\n

It\u2019s not summer until you\u2019ve spent a cool evening at Hadlock Field downing $3 hot dogs and Sea Dog Blueberry Ale.<\/p>\n

Tonight, we\u2019re meeting our friend\u2019s new girl, so really I\u2019ll being seeing two games played this evening.<\/p>\n

The four of us meet out front and hustle into the already crowded stadium. Families, friends, and couples pack the concession area, while kids in their baseball caps pulled down over their tiny heads weave in and out of the lines, hoping to catch a glimpse of Slugger. Or as the 10-year-olds and above would say, \u201cThe dude in the dog outfit.\u201d But, hey, we all know they still want a Slugger high-five.<\/p>\n

The guys grab the beers, and we grab the dogs and fries before making our way up to our seats. We\u2019re right behind the batter, and even with the net, I still find myself flinching and ducking at every foul ball.<\/p>\n

While everyone else talks stats, hits, and runs, I down the rest of the fries and sing along to \u201cSweet Caroline.\u201d<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve never been a sports fan, but tonight under the stars at Hadlock, I can understand what all the fuss is about. We\u2019re here as Portlanders, supporting our team, with what seems like the rest of the city. It\u2019s community, it\u2019s rooting for the same thing, it\u2019s baseball.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summerguide 2015
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