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stiffed

Although I made a promise, I am temporarily foregoing my 2006 wish list to complain about an entry I saw in the Herald Portsmouth Police Log.

On December 27, this caught my attention:

9:18 p.m.: A High Street caller reported that a large group who dined at a downtown restaurant had paid their tab, but not the gratuity included on the bill. Police learned that the menu does not advise of a mandated tip for large parties and the waitress did not inform the customers in advance.

I know I wasn't there and that I didn't get to see what kind of service this stiffed waitress provided, but unless she was spouting obscenities and neglected to bring any of their drinks or food, this inconsiderate party should have paid the gratuity.

I've bitched about this before and I'm sure I'm preaching to the choir here, but let me reiterate; when you dine out at restaurant, you are essentially renting that table for the length of your stay. You are also paying for someone to bring you your food, instead of cooking it or picking it up yourself. If this party had left even part of a tip, that would have been acceptable, but nothing? That just makes you look like a jerk, I don't care how crappy the service was.

I have certainly had my fair share of terrible service, but I never stiff. I could leave a huge pile of change or complain to the manager or decide never to go back, but walking out on a gratuity that's added to the check, that takes nerve.

Anyway, happy New Year and have fun this evening. I am finishing up a story on Portsmouth First Night and hoping to make it home in time to get a nap in before I go out. I did manage to find a few parties, as I had hoped, and almost all of them are within stumbling distance from my house, a nice bonus since it is really cold out tonight. If the festivities stink, you'll be sure to hear about it, and if they're a blast, let's hope I can remember enough to fill you in on Monday. Cheers!

Posted by blamontagne at 05:20 PM | Comments (3)

Has anyone seen my Yeti?

Everytime this year I begin to panic. What on earth am I going to do on New Year's Eve. Not one to plan far ahead for anything, I typically wait until everyone else tells me which party they'll be attending and I merely show up, bottle of champagne in hand.

In years past, this plan of attack has worked very well. Ask any twenty-something in town and they'll probably tell you they have a similar strategy. Since I moved here in 2000, the cool people in town always seem to show up at the same spot around 10:30 p.m. There's dancing and drinking and around midnight people go nuts and spray champagne everywhere, someone knocks the stereo over and ... well you get the gist.

But this year, only a day away from the event, instead of picking and choosing which party I'll be attending when celebrating the new year, I am desparately walking up to friends around town, at work, in the bars asking, "What are you doing for New Year's." Most of them just shrug and say, "I don't know. I guess I'll figure it out."

I blame this lack of get-togethers on 2005, the year of the mass exodus from Portsmouth. People always come and go and then come back again, but it seems this year, the numbers were unusually high. I spoke with a New England demographics expert a few weeks ago, and he let me know my New Year's Eve option are unlikely to improve. Since 2000, about 10,000 peoplem between 18 and 35 have moved out of Rockingham County. With the young fleeing, who will throw me the outstanding New Year's bash I desire. Certainly not me. Have you ever had to clean up after a party like that?

There is First Night Portsmouth, but since I am assigned to cover it for the Herald, I'll stay away from editorializing on that event.

Even if I decide to spend the night on the couch, watching Regis (ick!) and sipping drinks with my boyfriend, that will be fine, but if I stumble upon a great house party on my way back from a Cabot Street beer run, that would be even better.

By the way, the local comedy group, Stranger than Fiction, will be holding a Yeti Hunt throughout downtown Portsmouth starting at 11 p.m. tomorrow night. What is a Yeti hunt, you ask? Well, aparently, there will be some big guy dressed in a furry Yeti suit running around, trying to escape a group of people dressed as hunters. I say the hunt sounds like a great idea. Anytime you can cause a little confusion in mayhem in the square on a crowded evening, I say go for it.

Posted by blamontagne at 11:09 AM | Comments (2)

Auld Lang Syne

Send wishes to my seacoast online e-mail by Friday. I will give you my list and highlights from those sent in by Saturday morning.

Cheers!

The holidays kicked my butt this year, leading to little socializing and a lot of sitting on the couch, napping and catching up on my reading.

Now that Christmas is over, I've begun reflecting -- some might call it obsessing -- upon last year, likely prompted by the 9 zillion 2005 year-in-review countdown shows on TV right now.

I've decided that in order to let the past go and move into next year with optimism, I will post a New Year's wish list, asking for things I'd like to see come to Portsmouth, Dover and the rest of the Seacoast region in the next year. Because the things I most desire are pretty boring (will someone, for the love of God, open a freakin' cool rock venue in Portsmouth already?!) I figured I'd ask you what you would like to see come to town in the upcoming Year of the Dog.

Posted by blamontagne at 03:28 PM | Comments (0)

Happy Birthday to Me

Today, I am officially one week away from my birthday and since I have half of next week off, I am still trying to figure out exactly how to celebrate.

I have been very good this year, not blabbing to everyone that December 21 is my birthday, but one can only have so much self control. Being a Christmas baby, I was often overlooked on my birthday. The low point was my 14th birthday, when all my friends forgot because it was the same day as the holiday party at school, then my mom made me clean the house before the relative came into town for Christmas and once they arrived, no one seemed to care that I hadn't gotten to open any gifts or eat any cake.

Looking back, my Sixteen Candles-esque experience seems like 14-year-old over-dramaticism, but it did change how I approach my birthday.

For about 8 years, from the day after Thanksgiving until my birthday, I would tell just about everyone I knew, "Hey, my birthday's coming up!" Pretty annoying huh?

I guess I'm doing it again, but this time, I'm looking for suggestions. What should I do for my birthday? I got four days to celebrate, so I need some help.

Posted by blamontagne at 04:47 PM | Comments (1)

The Best Little Dive Bar in Dover

Screw The Barley Pub. Screw Daniel Street Tavern. Screw Dover Soul, the Red Door, The Press Room, Kelley's Row, Biddy Mulligans, Poco's and all the other popular bars in Dover and Portsmouth. I have found the new night time oasis, and it's name is 3 Main Street.

Secretly hidden behind Smiley's convenience store, it the region's "Hidden Jewel" of drinking spots, or so quipped my friend, Daina.

The whole place is really dingy with holes in the yellow-gray drop ceilings and bare spots on the walls. There's about 6 pool tables, cool beer ads from days long gone on the walls and a cast of characters that make you long for the days when the tourists hadn't totally taken over and pushed the local unsavory character out.

I made my first trip to 3 Main Street last week to see Tiny Whales play with a host of out-of-town bands.

The crowd adored the local rock band, dancing and hollering throughout the entire set. Despite a rocky opening, (they had to re-start their first song because the drummer screwed it up) the group was tight, playing aggressively, energetically.

Alex Tuley's bass styling have vastly improved since the last time I saw the band play this summer. Her voice is equally strong, not once wavering. She gave each song full vocal strength, melodically shouting each lyric.

Matty Maybruck's drumming was killer, as usual, making me wish I lived in an area where there were more than 3 drummers that know how to rock.

Although I see him all over town, I've never had a chance to hear guitarist Sean Ferral play. His upbeat and goofy moves added levity to the seriousness of Alex and singer/keyboardist Ryan Kirchner's rock demeanor. As for Ryan, I've never hear anyone play keyboard quite like him. One second it's sweet and melodic and the next you're reaching for your ear plugs to block out the screeching, pain-filled sound.

Before Tiny Whales took the stage, Headlights and Via Audio played two very solid sets.

Headlights, from Champagne, IL, are on Polyvinyl for you music nerds out there. They're a typical midwest indie-pop band with a chick singer and keyboard player, a drummer who often screws up, but in that was that makes the music even better. The guitarist was nothing spectacular, but their songs were unique and catchy, and I openly admit to being a fan.

Via Audio, a Boston/NYC band left me really impressed, so much so that I went up to the drummer straight after the set and told him how much I loved them.

The group is on Kill Normal Records, though they are hoping to re-group together in NYC and join a new label. Their music was also of the indie-pop variety, but the chords, rhythm and the general way the songs were put together were complex, beautiful and original. Also with a chick singer/keyboardist, the group was high energy, pushing the crowd into dancing, jumping and singing along.

So, will I go to 3 Main Street again? It's likely. The people were very friendly, the draft beer amazingly cheap and the decor was top notch.

Will I need a few cocktails before I walk through the doors? You betcha.

Posted by blamontagne at 05:40 PM | Comments (0)

How was my 10-year class reunion?

When I tell people I went to my 10-year high school reunion, more often than not, they want to know how it was, whether everyone got fat, if the annoying popular girls were still annoying, stuff like that.

So how was it?

It was not what I expected at all.

For the most part everyone looked better, more assured, calmer. No one had that stressful look on their faces brought on by the pressure of having to get up at 6 a.m. to catch a bus, stay awake all day and then work four hours after school. No one was bitching about grades, mean teachers, college applications or any of that garbage that made high school so unnecessarily awful.

People danced, ate greasy and, from what I hear, unappetizing appetizers, sipped on drinks. (I was happy to see that most of my fellow Spaulding graduates prefer to drink cheap beer, even the ladies. Gotta love Rochester.)

Girls I hadn’t seen since the day I graduated were there, looking beautiful and quite content with the what they had become. I ran into my best friend from first grade, Katie, who recently moved from North Carolina to a city where her liberal views will not be shunned. There was Karen, the Class Pessimist, who is working hard in rural Vermont, teaching high schoolers the basics of science without any equipment.

I say this to those of you out there who are contemplating attending a reunion in the next year or two. I say it's worth the anxiety and potential embarrassment. It’s therapeutic. It makes you realize you’re not that much different than others your age, that even though you forged a path and are not quite sure if it’s the right one, you’re rolling with it because you can’t think of anything better to do.

Most importantly, it shows that the main reason the kids you graduated with were intolerable asses is because they were forced to sit through incredibly boring classes and kow-tow to people who were far less cool but for some reason were blessed with popularity.

So, to the SHS Class of 95, sorry I didn’t get something up sooner, or wrote more juicy details, but I want to be able to show my face at the next one.

P.S. Jake Yeagley, your cardboard cut-out appearance was really, really cool.

Posted by blamontagne at 06:26 PM | Comments (0)

EASY MATH

PLUS

AND

EQUALS FUN

During the holidays, I find that my weekend schedule is bogged down with family obligations and weird holiday events. Lately it seems if I’m not attending a birthday dinner or a baby shower or a class reunion (see tomorrow's entry), then I am lying in my PJs on the couch watching re-runs of Laguna Beach or something else equally heinous.

This week, I am planning to forego my nightly eight hours of sleep to attend two shows that promise to be spectacular.

Wednesday, Dec. 7
Iron and Wine with Calexico
at the Avalon, Boston

Yes, that’s right. I am missing the two-hour season premiere of Project Runway to see this show.

Their collaborative album, In the Reins is short, an EP really, but not a moment disappoints. It’s a mix of Tex-Mex grandeur and rural Appalachia sadness, of intricate guitar playing and old trumpet calls.

I’ve had a soft spot in my heart for Iron and Wine, since it was one of the albums my boyfriend played for me when we first met. We were hanging out in my crappy studio apartment drinking wine and talking endlessly about everything. When we finished listening to The Creek Drank the Cradle I was so impressed I made him play it again.

Then there was the time we were supposed to see Iron and Wine play at T.T. the Bears, but my boyfriend "forgot" the tickets. Instead we watched game 7 of the 2003 ALCS in the Cambridgeport Saloon, which was totally worth it, looking back.

Tiny Whales
Thursday, Dec. 8
3 Main Street Dover

You know that dumpy bar behind Smiley’s that you’d never dare go in but if you did, it would be the best time ever? That’s 3 Main Street and that’s where Tiny Whales will be playing this week with three other bands. What are the other bands, you ask? Well, had Tiny Whales posted it on their myspace page, then I would be able to tell you, but they didn’t so I can’t.

Posted by blamontagne at 06:08 PM | Comments (0)