They’re pretty sweet. Once in a while, I wake up on a day off and wonder what, exactly, I can do that won’t be the same old. Yes, I live near the Inner Harbor, but you can imagine it’s a pretty big corporate cash cow– and not authentically Baltimore (unless you count that smell emanating from the waterfront). Best solution to this conundrum? Get off your tail and, as the city’s tourism board urges us, “get into it.”
So yesterday, we decided to explore one of Baltimore’s neighborhoods. My friend and I chose Charles Village– a mostly residential neighborhood with a few standby restaurants surviving among the escalating clusters of Starbuckses, Chipotles, and Barnes & Nobles radiating out from Johns Hopkins University. After a little debate, we settled on lunch at Rocky Run, a sports bar/casual dining joint where I discovered that deep-fried pickles are a traditional Baltimore delicacy. They have great sandwiches, and Natty Boh– official beer from the Land of Pleasant Living– is served in glass bottles. The most standout moment, though, was getting the check.
Rich: Why’d you have to drink Coke?
Me: Because I was in the mood for a Coke… Why?
Rich [hands me the bill, which reads the following]
Hickory BBQ Burger $8.97
1984 French Dip $8.54
Soft Drink $2.19
National Bohemian $2.00
The most refreshing brew in town actually costs less than a regular fountain Coke. I don’t think I can really overstate the watery quality and smooth texture of this beer, but you should get the picture. It can give you a little headache, but it’s totally worth the pain.
After Rocky Run, we decided Charles Village didn’t have a lot to offer in the way of entertainment. That’s when we got the bright idea to catch an Orioles game. Here’s the great thing about having a team that’s working on their tenth straight losing season: tickets are almost always cheap and available. Also, your expectations are artificially low. So we drove back to my house, tossed on some O’s gear, and walked down to Camden Yards.
We bought tickets on the Eutaw Street deck below the scoreboard. Let me tell you, at first I was skeptical (I usually sit along the baselines), but when we got to our seats I was blown away. We were practically on the field, and with a crew a little bit more civilized than the college deck. For fifteen bucks a pop. I could see the stitching on Corey Patterson’s jersey over my 1/4 lb. hot dog (so good).
It was a kick ass game, too. The dear old Orioles were down 3 runs by the end of the second inning, and showing no signs of improvement when things magically turned around. After a rollercoaster of rallies that left men stranded on base during the sixth and eighth innings, the O’s tied it up in the bottom of the ninth. This was good, old-fashioned baseball. There was a wicked double play, to the delight of crazed Baltimoreans. Rich and I decided that if the O’s pulled out the win, we’d have to go out for another Natty Boh… and they did, in the 10th inning, final score 7 to 6. Across the street to Pickles Pub we walked.
The strip of bars outside Camden Yards is a zoo after a game, but when the Orioles win you have to go out. And, amid the bean bag toss and beer pong games on picnic tables indoors, I remembered– very cornily– why I love Baltimore. It might not be classy, but you don’t find anything like this scene in Washington or New York. It’s the totally classless that attracts me to Baltimore. Dancing in the street to songs that went out of popularity fifteen years ago. The overabundance of grown-up leagues for children’s sports. The use of cheap beer as a sports drink during said activities.
Baltimore… you tow my car… you ticket me a lot… your electricity rates are obscene and you are the heroin capital of America. In 2007. When most people don’t even do IV drugs anymore. You are also the capital for various STDs and everything in you is corrupt. But I love you. <3
