Back in November somebody charged $370 to my debit card to a vendor I didn’t recognize, so I immediately disputed the charges with Bank of America. It disappeared into their system until this Friday, when I got a letter detailing the purchase: a Garmin watch bought from eBay and delivered to a rental house in Severn, MD, with an obviously fake Yahoo email address. Their automated robot decided the charges were legit based on eBay’s garbage information and told me they were going to debit my account.
I got on the phone this morning and spoke with a woman in the Fraud department, who listened to my explanation and reversed the charges again; given the details it’s pretty clear this is fraud. eBay is famously abysmal for customer service; there is no phone number to call or email address to contact, and their chatbot points to a page that throws a 500 Internal Server Error, so it makes total sense that some waiter double-swiped my card at a restaurant and used them to get himself a shiny new watch.
Meanwhile, I ordered a new set of safety glasses two weeks ago from a storefront I’d used successfully in 2021. I never got a confirmation email or tracking number in reply, but they sure as shit charged my card. This was two weeks ago and I still don’t have any glasses; their customer service options are as useful as eBay’s. I’ve sent them some nastygrams this morning promising a reversal of charges if I don’t hear anything by COB.
Update: my flurry of bitchy emails spurred a flurry of return emails and, suddenly, magically, a shipment notification!
I just learned that we are only 7 miles, as the crow flies, from a NIKE missile base that was active from 1954 until 1974, which protected the west side of Baltimore from incoming Soviet bombers within a 25-mile radius. Given the destructive range and potential of Soviet nuclear weapons in this time period, this was yet another expensive exercise in pissing in the wind. Apparently the local Civil Air Patrol has been slowly refurbishing the base, which sat abandoned for decades after the government shut it down.
Well, fuck. The Brewer’s Art, a mainstay of Mt. Vernon, and host of one of the best basement bars in all of Baltimore (RIP Wroten’s), abruptly announced its closure on Monday, citing over $150K in debt. I don’t know what would have happened there—it was always busy—but this is a loss for Baltimore’s nightlife scene. I spent many an evening tucked away in a corner of the basement nursing an OZZY or four (Fuck you Sharon, it’ll always be OZZY to me), and have a special place in my heart for it.
When I was in college in the late 80’s, Baltimore was ignored in most musicians’ touring schedules. We usually had to drive down to DC to see anyone worthwhile, which made it difficult and expensive to see bands. One bright spot was the 8×10, a small privately-owned venue in Federal Hill with a stage the size of the name and a great sound system. I saw many up-and-coming bands there over the years and have a lot of great memories of the place (and there are some nights I can’t remember, honestly). The partners who have owned it for 20 years are retiring and looking for a new buyer. In this day and age of corporate consolidation of live music, it would be sad to see it shut down forever.
(previously, previously)
I was talking with the girls last night at dinner about a cabaret I used to go to when I was in college, which held drag performances, musical reviews, and other avant-garde events that I can’t even describe. Typically my friends and I would pregame a little bit and then walk downtown to the show, get hammered and have fun, then wander home. In Baltimore, in 1990, which was sort of like walking through Beirut in 1983. Anyway, the name of the show suddenly came to me and I looked it up online when I got home: the 14Karat Cabaret. I found a post about it and a ton of memories flooded back; the Baltimore City Paper, the Haus of Frau… Man, I miss those days.
A year ago today, the Key Bridge collapsed in Baltimore harbor. This is a PBS documentary on the cause and the aftermath.
The ladies took me out for dinner last night to the always excellent Clavel, where we sampled the tacos and drank fancy drinks. Finn had a non-alcoholic beet-based drink, Jen had a mezcal-based cocktail with vermouth, rose and honey, and I had one of the best margaritas I’ve ever tried. The tacos were delicious, and we capped things off with two slices of flan.
In a rare case of planning ahead, I had a stacked four-day weekend full of learning, entertainment, and adventure. Friday, I did the HQL course to get my license sorted out, as mentioned earlier. On Saturday I was in the car headed down to Southern Maryland to visit with my father-in-law, take him out for some Mission Barbecue, and go through his mail. We sat and talked for 2 to 3 hours, mainly me listening about his history in rural Pennsylvania, and then I drove back home through cold dark rain.
Sunday, we hosted Karean and Zachary to go to see the Lion King at the Hippodrome in Baltimore. This required a ton of housecleaning, which mainly fell on Jen, but I threw in that morning to finish up the last minute stuff for their arrival. We were also finishing up an overhaul of the guest bedroom, following a remodel we did last year where the new color turned out to be a bit too vibrant and a couple of values too dark. It was a nice color but made the room feel smaller. We bought a lighter shade of the original color and I rolled it on three walls, leaving one for an accent. Jen framed two pieces of art we bought in Portugal and bought a third for over the bed. After sewing up the new blackout curtains and building a roller shade for the bathroom door, the whole room really came together. Jen picked out fabrics and colors that accent each other and it really feels great in there now—much lighter, larger, and complete.
Sunday morning we got churched up and drove into Baltimore at noon for the 1 o’clock show. This marks the third show we’ve seen at the Hippodrome and it never fails to deliver. This show was amazing: it’s the traveling Broadway troupe and they do an incredible job. The costumes were breathtaking and the set design is incredible. I would bet it’s even more inspiring on a large Broadway sized stage (the Hippodrome is a smaller, Vaudeville-era venue) but we enjoyed every minute and a double Vodka Matata (vodka, ginger, beer, and lime) made everything even more pleasant. After the show, we drove to a fancy Ramen restaurant in the inner Harbor and loaded up on noodles, pork rolls, and gyoza. Properly stuffed, we headed back to the house, got in some warm PJs and caught up on the couch before getting to bed early for the next day.
Monday’s activity was driving up to Roundtop for a day of snowboarding. Finn declined to go so it was just Karean, Zachary and me. We got our rentals sorted out, accompanied Karean to the bunny slope, and gave her some pointers to practice on before her lesson. After watching over her for a run or two, Zachary and I broke off and hit the blue slope. After he got his confidence under him, we really started having fun. The mountain was pretty empty, which was fantastic: the lift lines were almost negligible and we didn’t have to avoid crowds of people on the way down. The snow was typical manmade Eastern stuff, but there was enough down that it wasn’t a sheet of ice and it was cold enough outside to not be slushy and wet. But after enough people went down the slope it started getting rough in patches as they dug in and started making grooves.
On my third or fourth run, I was switching directions, my board caught an ice ridge and I flipped downward on the mountain landing on my left side with my arm underneath me. It all happened very fast and I didn’t have time to cushion myself, and I got the wind knocked out of me. My ribs felt very sore and tender, but I got up and kept boarding. Zachary and I got about seven more runs in before lunch and the grin on his face got bigger and bigger with each ride down the mountain. We did about five more runs after lunch and wrapped things up at three, meeting Karean up in the bar above the lodge. Zachary is really into snowboarding, and I’m going to redouble my efforts to get him out at least twice a year.
My ribs are very tender this morning. It’s mainly the fifth and sixth, directly under my left arm on the side. Jen found me a Lidocaine patch and I put that on last night before bed; I’m going to keep applying them until the soreness goes away. If I had to guess, they’re either bruised, or possibly fractured, but there isn’t much any doctor could do other than tell me “don’t fall on them”.
Two of the weekend’s highlights were from the family advent calendar: Saturday evening we went to dinner at Amoora, a Syrian restaurant in the Inner Harbor. It’s always fun to get dressed up and go out with the girls, and the food and company was excellent.
Sunday we drove back into Baltimore to the Senator theater to see Wicked on the big screen. Unfortunately I didn’t realize they’d added smaller theaters on to the building and that we were in one of those annexes. Still, we all really enjoyed the movie—I was, honestly, a bit dubious about the whole thing but within the first half hour they had hooked me and I was on board. 2h40m went by very quickly. I will definitely be looking forward to the second half.
One of my favorite local joints from the old neighborhood is closing down after 30 years in business. Nacho Mama’s, a staple of Canton from back when Hons still walked the streets, was our go-to Irish-owned Mexican restaurant, with cheap National Bohemian on tap and a great menu for eating in or takeout on movie night. I have tons of great memories both eating in the restaurant and scarfing down a towering plate of Mesa Fries across the park at Rob’s house.
One night I met friends for dinner there, wearing my National Bohemian delivery shirt, and ordered some kind of draft beer. The waitress took our order and noticed my shirt; she turned and called over to Scunny, the owner, who was a voracious collector of all things Natty Boh, Orioles, Baltimore Colts, and Elvis. Pointing at me he yelled, “HEY!” and the noisy bar got very quiet. He leaned over the bar and boomed, “WHERE DID YOU GET THAT SHIRT??!”
I stammered back something about Saks North Avenue (IYKYK) and he began to offer me money for it, then spied whatever beer I was drinking. “YOU CAN’T DRINK THAT SHIT. HERE! HERE’S A NATTY BOH!” The beer hit my table, I took a long swig, thanked him, and the bar returned to its normal volume.
Sadly, Scunny passed in 2012 from a freak accident in Ocean City. His family kept the bar running, but it wasn’t the same; I went back several times but the food wasn’t as good and the vibe was gone.
Finn’s high school was ranked in the 99th percentile of Maryland high schools, according to the 2024 school report card. Not too shabby.