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It’s Wednesday, approaching 65 degrees, the wind is lightly blowing and I’m stuck inside a nearly windowless building wondering when I get to go outside and play. Despite my spring fever, this beautiful afternoon comes with the comfort of knowing there will be many opportunities in the next few months to enjoy my evenings outside. There will be long bike rides through Newcastle, solitary moments watching people and sipping iced-tea in Market Square and of course, the crowned jewel of Portsmouth night life, hanging out of the decks.

Two of the Bow Street decks open tomorrow and this Saturday, my favorite outside bar begins its season. I know there are plenty of outside dining spots in the seacoast region, like BG’s Boat House, the Gas Light, Saunders and even a few in Dover, but to me, the only decks worth a damn are along Bow Street overlooking the Piscataqua.

The spring and fall are the best seasons for the decks, before the college kids get out of school and tourists clog everything up with their SUV-sized strollers. When I sit on the water on a cool spring night with a few friends and a drink in my hand, watching the tug boats do-si-do out of their dock, I feel like I own this town.

There are those that hate the decks, the smelly alley, the meat heads that wait in line for Poco’s and Harpoon's, the cramming into a tight corner just to get a glimpse of the water or the long, long, long lines for the bar. A curmudgeonly associate once said he wished someone would just nuke all of Bow Street. A bit harsh, yet a sentiment to which some could relate.

I don’t really care for those aspects, either, but when it comes to the decks, I really can’t stay away. It’s a solace, a place to suck in some salty air with working people in this town. When I'm at home, my apartment porch overlooks a row of decrepit properties and a litter-strewn parking lot. I live on Route 1, so the traffic in the summer is loud and frequent. People are always yelling at each other about something and the heat from the black top makes some days out there unbearable.

And at least I have a porch. For me and the hundreds of other young people who rent poorly maintained apartments just to stay close to town, the decks are our communal porch. It’s where we can kick off after work and have a margarita or a Jimmy Juice or a Dark and Stormy or an ice cold Corona out of a can together.

There’s been some talk in the past of cleaning up the decks, of making a family friendly riverwalk, but I pay no mind. The sheer effort of trying to engineer the project and maneuver the bureaucracy is mind boggling. I just ask that if that day ever comes, to think of the people in this town who use the grand old porch to enjoy the water, snack on some nachos and drink the work week away.