13 October 2005

Regression & Nostalgia in Charlestown


There is a fine line between nostalgia and regression. And last night in Charlestown, a perfect balance was struck between the two. It was the most joyful, and well-attended Suppah Club since its inception in February 2005 and there was much to rejoice about: LP's engagement. Annie's triumphant homecoming from New Orleans. She's returned gracefully disease-free after schlepping through muck in the Quartier Francais (which Annie notes is French for "petri dish."). Paige's new Charlestown apartment with a guest bedroom reserved for boozy pals and Strawberry Shortcake slumber parties. And the birthdays of lovely Libras Auntie and Goy.



For this month's dinner, Di -- aka Marc Jacobs' beatch -- chose the Warren Tavern because the fall always recalls fond memories of Charlestown during a time when we were the mouthy riff raff hogging up the pub tables on Wednesday nights. Sitting around the "big table" last night, it was difficult not to reminisce about crisp October evenings past when we would gather in the same spot to watch playoff baseball (and eat baseball sirloin). The nights where we'd stumble up the hill to School Street and try to pry Mikey away from his vegetable steamer for a spontaneous dance party. The mornings where we'd wake up on the futon on Eden Street clutching a chicken wing, regretting the late night Chinois. Those were the days of not-so-long-ago. Then, jarring us from our nostalgia, the solo guitarist that Jamie hates more than Peter Wolf (who "ruins everything") began maiming a Weezer tune and we decided to take off.



But like many evenings past, we opted for a completely unnecessary "nightcap" at Sully's. Home of high profile stabbings and embarrassing karaoke moments, Sully's is the consummate "one more stop" that solidifies the next day's hangover. The place appears even seedier in the grainy photos captured on Goy's camera phone.

In the above photo, Auntie & LP appear to be rolling a joint. I appear to be slumped over in the shadows. Perhaps the caption for this photo should read: "One drink away from dangling ourselves over the railing at Flagship Wharf to see if Nomar and his uncle Vinny would rescue us." Sometimes regression is good for the soul.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

I think my best hobby/sport is celebrating. Give me a reason and I'll be there with a pole dance to close out the night.

Wang Chung.
GOY

ps. Di- Goy will NEVER stick!

Celine said...

Is is possible to be car sick when you're the one driving?? I felt a constant wave of nausea and a not so dull headache ALL day today. Just like old times....

Suppah Club rules.

Code Red said...

I, for one, am nostalgic for the days when I could drink merlot, pinot grigio and orange sodies in ample quantities in one sitting and still function the next day. Now, not so much. Ow, my head.

KJ said...

It's 6:04 p.m. and my head still hurts. Old broads.

SAC said...

Pole dancing wife? Who'da thunk? Bring those talents home!!!!!!

lp said...

Still crazy (and inebriated) after all these years.

We look like the "Dogs Playing Poker" painting. A big thanks to the evening's designated drivers, 'cause most of us weren't equipped to drive down Memory Lane that night.