{"id":9906,"date":"2014-07-18T11:34:29","date_gmt":"2014-07-18T15:34:29","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/?p=9906"},"modified":"2014-07-22T10:41:13","modified_gmt":"2014-07-22T14:41:13","slug":"portland-after-dark-love-lobster","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/portland-after-dark-love-lobster\/","title":{"rendered":"Portland After Dark: Love and Lobster"},"content":{"rendered":"

July\/August 2014 | view this story as a .pdf<\/a><\/p>\n

For singles, is this the summer you’ll remember forever?<\/h3>\n

By Olivia Gunn<\/p>\n

\"Portland-After-Dark-J_A14\"<\/a>Tuesday:<\/strong><\/p>\n

A storm looms overhead, but we\u2019ve got faith it will hold off for one\u2013just one\u2013drink at The Garden Caf\u00e9 at 21 Milk Street. The air is thick but cool, and it\u2019s keeping us from bailing for the nearest AC. Shannen and I arrive to find several groups and couples sitting at the iron patio sets with umbrellas up, not for shade but for the potential downpour. Ruby, our server, offers us cushions for our chairs and assures us we have a good half hour before the rain starts. The Garden is shaded by tall maple trees, veiling the small drizzle that\u2019s already started. String lights line the fence along the tables, Louis Armstrong croons in the distance, and it feels as if we\u2019re exactly where we\u2019re meant to be. \u201cDo people ever dance here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDance?\u201d Ruby seems surprised.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, do couples ever dance here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, but you definitely should.\u201d Shannen and I laugh, both wishing our significant others were here. One couple has turned two chairs toward the dolphin statue just to sit and people-watch. Their only contact is a brush of their hands or a slight smile confirming happiness. I imagine returning alone in the next few days with a book. Maybe I\u2019m a dewy-eyed romantic, but a classic\u2013The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn<\/em> or Pride and Prejudice<\/em>\u2013seems fitting. No company is needed when the spot is this good, and I come to the conclusion that The Garden Caf\u00e9 may be my hiding place this summer. When the clouds grow too heavy and it starts to sprinkle, Ruby asks if we\u2019d like our checks, \u201c\u2026in case you need to make a run for it?\u201d A moment later we do indeed, over the cobblestones, up the street, laughing through the summer rain.<\/p>\n

Wednesday<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cYou look like the type of woman who would dance if asked.\u201d I\u2019m taken aback as the gentleman reaches out his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no. I just ordered a beer and I\u2019d only slow you down. You look too good out there!\u201d He shrugs and, with a wink, finds a partner who\u2019s confident she can keep up. Tonight, Primo Cubano is playing outside at El Rayo,<\/strong> and the place is grooving. I sit at the bar watching sultry couples move about the lot in front of the band. It\u2019s easy to get caught up in watching salsa, and I soon find myself choosing which couples should fall madly in love and\u2026whew, it\u2019s hot out here. A friend invites me to dance, but I\u2019m too content watching and I don\u2019t want to ruin the moment with my white-girl overbite and awkward side step. It\u2019s lovely to see these women in dresses and heels, the men taking lead.\u00a0 By my second beer, I\u2019ve convinced myself to take salsa lessons. There\u2019s no room for wallflowers at this joint, Portland.<\/p>\n

Thursday<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cSomething sweet, but not necessarily fruity.\u201d The three bartenders exchange a look. \u201cYou should try the Birthday Cake Martini,\u201d says Michaela, manager at White Cap Grille. \u201cI found it on Pinterest.\u201d Shannen grins from ear to ear hearing she\u2019ll be the first to try this new concoction: a white Pinnacle froth with a rainbow-sprinkled rim. \u201cWow, it\u2019s not even my birthday,\u201d Shannen says while posing for a picture.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s always your birthday if you\u2019re drinking.\u201d We sit and chat with the two remaining staff members, Johnny and Jamie. Both have been working all day and, though the place is near empty, are in good spirits. White Cap sits where Market meets Middle and has great, shaded wraparound seating\u2013perfect for date night or a lunch hidden from the hot sun. The bar inside faces a wall of windows overlooking Middle Street, and as some Portlanders dart by to escape the warm rain, a few stop in for shelter and a stiff drink. \u201cHow did you get into writing?\u201d Jamie asks me. \u201cYou write good?\u201d He laughs at himself and we get to chatting about life and its many roads.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019m quitting and moving to Aruba,\u201d proclaims Johnny as he dries a pint glass.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy Aruba?\u201d<\/p>\n

He shrugs, \u201cIt sounds good.\u201d For a moment we\u2019re all lost in a tropical beach fantasy and it\u2019s not until the rain pours that reality sets in. Shannen downs the last of her slice and we head to the street, promising a return. \u2019Til Aruba, boys! Or at least the next birthday!<\/p>\n

Friday<\/strong><\/p>\n

I\u00a0 look out at the bridge and the giant crane looming over us, representing, to me at least, the industrial overtake, the never-ending building up. Are there better views? Of course, but within my block, on the outskirts of downtown, there is no better spot than Outliers for an evening glass of wine and a good venting with friends. Debby and Rachel arrive, and I\u2019m reminded of my mother and older sister back home. These two women have become somewhat of my Portland family, and tonight I need nothing more. The air is warm, the drink is fine, and we proceed to solve world hunger, the modern man\u2019s condition, and our own inadequacies. A young couple tries to pacify their toddler and work hard to enjoy their evening spirits. Eventually we\u2019re the only ones on deck and conclude the evening with a laugh over my mother\u2019s recent confession that \u201cThere were many-a-night when I thought of ending it all at the kitchen sink.\u201d Obviously too heavy for your average caf\u00e9, but if you can\u2019t share a morbid laugh at Outliers, the lone spot away from the rush, the push and pull, I\u2019m not sure where you can.<\/p>\n

Saturday<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cIt must be awkward.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBeing our third wheel tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, thanks.\u201d It wasn\u2019t until they mentioned it that I found myself feeling incredibly alone on a dance floor full of couples and potential one-night-stands at Pearl Ultra.. Lately, I\u2019ve been solo on most of my ventures, and any single or loner will tell you that Saturday can be the loneliest night in town when the Old Port finally wakes from its sleepy week and the lovers fill the streets. Couples stroll down Exchange arm in arm, and new acquaintances play a guessing game: \u201cDo I ask for her number?\u201d \u201cWould it be wrong to go to his place?\u201d \u201cDo I buy her one more drink?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat would mother do?\u201d They say it\u2019s hard to find love in our town, but let\u2019s be honest, that\u2019s any city\u2019s complaint outside of Paris or Rome, where even the garbage cans ooze amore<\/em> when the moon hits your eye. It\u2019s hard to find love anywhere, and if you\u2019re searching for Mr. or Ms. Right on Wharf Street, then you\u2019ve got more than one problem, love. We all have fun hopping from joint to joint\u2013Oasis, Old Port Tavern, Amigos\u2013<\/strong>but we\u2019re all there for a good time, and the good time doesn\u2019t tend to last past Sunday brunch.<\/p>\n

So, where does one find love in the Old Port? It\u2019s the late night burger you grab at Five Guys with your best friends. It\u2019s passing the Love Locks fence and feeling that little bit of warmth. It\u2019s cheering for the Sox with a room full of strangers at Foreplay, and it\u2019s every time you feel lonely realizing that in a city like ours, you\u2019re never really alone.<\/p>\n

Sunday<\/strong><\/p>\n

It’s been close to an hour since I took my perch on the top deck of Dogfish Bar & Grille. It overlooks an empty parking lot, but if you keep your eyes to the sky, face to the sun, it can feel like some exotic penthouse rooftop. Add a pomegranate-infused vodka lemonade (or two) and, voil\u00e0, you\u2019re catching rays with every babe in Portland. Today the sun is hot, and my plan is to get as much of it as possible before my legs and arms become much more translucent, a fear many she-Mainers live with. The beach babe sitting upwind of me, a bearded dockworker, has lit a particularly potent smoke, and after a gust or two, I decide it\u2019s best if I head in for Open Mic before I really start imagining things. Several musicians roll through, all just background music for the many diners chowing down on ravioli or a fancy salmon salad. It\u2019s not until 13 Scotland Rd. tunes up and the lead vocal, Bill Binford, starts in on a sweet, throaty song about a dream lover that the room quiets, all recognizing the story we\u2019re about to hear. \u201cShe came to me in a dream, prettiest thing I\u2019d ever seen\u2026\u201d With that, I order a glass of Malbec, sit back, and swoon. When 13 Scotland Rd. wraps, everyone seems to release a heavy, lovely sigh. Binford got us where we wanted to be, and there\u2019s no turning back. Next up is Uke\u2019n\u2019Smile\u2013two musicians, Dave Jacquet and Keith Kitchin. The guys play fun medleys and covers and get the crowd even higher with Bob Marley and with their own song, \u201cButt Naked on the Porch.\u201d Born and raised in Pennsylvania, it\u2019s been a while since I\u2019ve witnessed fist-pumping to Johnny Cash, but as soon as Jacquet starts in on those \u201cFolsom Prison Blues\u201d chords, there is no stopping this crowd.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you ride solo or do you have a horse in the race?\u201d<\/p>\n

I turn to find one of the earlier musicians seated behind me. \u201cOh, I, uh, solo, I guess. I don\u2019t have a horse here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight on.\u201d<\/p>\n

Uke\u2019n\u2019Smile opens the floor to requests, but everyone seems satisfied with their set already and by the end of it, we\u2019re asking for a couple more. Walking home from the Dogfish, my mind starts playing 13 Scotland Rd.\u2019s \u201cDream.\u201d The stars are out, leading me home, and I come to realize how comfortable and safe I feel in Portland. What I thought was an escape from New York, what I mistook for a simple affair, is now proving to be the real thing. I\u2019m not expecting you to say it back or anything, I know it might be too soon, you may not be ready, but Portland, I think I love you. Turning the corner on to Danforth, Binford\u2019s song plays in my head, \u201cShe came to me in a dream. Prettiest thing I\u2019d ever seen. Seemed to have everything, she was all I ever wanted. Come sit by me, my dream. Let me play you a melody. Just don\u2019t let me wake up from the dream.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

July\/August 2014
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