Wednesday, March 31, 2010
So, this new family moves onto the block last summer and decides that because their driveway is narrow, they will begin using the street as their new parking spots. Now, the patriarch of the family commutes by train to work, so his black Toyota sits out in front of their house ALL week. The matriarch works a bit part-time but is mostly a mom shuttling her kids to playdates or heading to the gym from time to time. Her trips back and forth are not so excessive that she cannot park in the driveway. Further, there is no obstruction for her to worry about hitting when she backs out of her drive. But, of course, the two cars sitting there is a big obstruction for her adjacent neighbors, one with a large, 6-passenger sedan. The latter driver swears he is going to be in a rush one day, come out of the drive more quickly than usual and collide with one or both of their cars. Other times he gets so frustrated with the situation that he wants to purposely ram one of the cars, driving it up onto the offending neighbor's lawn!
Being the polite neighborhood it is, folks have been reluctant to confront them and share their feelings. Their bad perhaps, but it was expected that the family would have gotten the message by now. What to do?
The solution: Create a mock-parking ticket that expresses the frustration, makes a logical argument for parking in the driveway and outlines the benefit of compliance = happy neighbors, good vibes.
Will report back and let you know if the strategy worked.
It's Acoustic... in that it offers acoustic music... and a Cafe, but only because it used to offer food. Overall, it's got a good vibe this music nook in Bridgeport's Black Rock section. Just ask eagle-eyed door sentry Jessica, who's the keeper of the entry gate and has roosted here a while now. A sharp cookie with razor-sharp wit and a playful personality, J can sashay with the best of 'em.
Serving up the suds behind a makeshift jerry-rigged wooden fortress is Kelly, with hair swirled up high like a Dairy Queen double scoop with extra chocolate sprinkles. She administers shots of Jameson's like Nurse Ratchet laying down smallpox vaccine. Carrying a baby on board, Special K has a nurturing way, cradling the Bendy straws and rocking the register with a lullaby caress.
Meanwhile, the growing populace here enjoys their "Huge Ass Beers" including PBRs, Magic Hat #9, Brooklyn Pils, Bass and Blue Moon, the suds going down easy, filling eager bellies and enhancing moods.
Ceiling areas painted black hide industrial machinations and the coarse underbelly of the establishment, aglow in multi-colored gel lights.
The freelance crooner on stage lays down his tracks, making an appeal to the crowd. He gains acknowledgement with polite claps and a giggle, then is gone.
Leopard skin-patterned booths draw "hunters" of nightlife. They tote wads of dollar bills looking for good times.
Casual is the style here, with knit caps, ball caps, flannel and denim ruling the day. It's the uniform of the common, the salt of the earth, the real deal.
A lulling good time and tasty brews will be had by all.