Tuesday, November 1, 2011
The Agony of Amplified Jersey Girls
Chickie’s and Pete’s
183 US Highway 130
Have you ever walked into a bar with a crowd of people yelling and screeching at the top of their lungs?
Well, maybe fun, depending upon your mood. And the place.
But it loses its appeal when the bar hands those people a microphone and amplifies it throughout the building.
Otherwise known as “Karaoke Night”.
By the time I pulled into my Comfort Inn in beautiful (not) Bordentown, New Jersey, I was ready to get out of the suit I had been wearing for 18 straight hours, down a Goody’s Headache Powder and find something to eat for the first time in almost 36 hours.
But in a show of typical Jersey hospitality, my room’s air conditioning was broken, which really wasn’t going to work for me on this 90 degree summer night.
And since I am ALWAYS the last guy of the night to check in, there were no other rooms available. (Although a couple good natured stoners in the lobby offered me the extra bed in their room. I politely declined.)
So at an hour of the night I was hoping to already be half way between the cork and the bottle, I had to set out to find a place to stay, first.
And eat, second.
Fortunately, the Best Western was more than happy to give me a room with a working A/C in exchange for a hundred bucks.
Even more fortunately, I spotted Chickie’s and Pete’s on the way there.
I noted the bright neon lights and the full parking lot.
My Goody’s was just beginning to kick in when I opened the front door and was greeted with the sounds of amplified screeching.
Under almost any other circumstances, I might have a much better attitude about a packed house of fun-loving, hammered Jersey girls butchering “Don’t Stop Believin.”
Well, “much better attitude” might be a bit of an exaggeration.
But you know what I’m saying. I just needed a beer and some food.
Fortunately, I found a nice spot at the bar underneath a flat screen showing one of the West coast baseball games. Perfect. Except for all that screeching.
That’s when I discovered that this place I had stumbled into is a somewhat famous small chain of Philadelphia crab houses/sport bars.
In fact, the joint has been voted one of the best sports bars in America. How lucky is that?
I mean, you gotta love a place whose motto is “It’s a lot more fun to eat in a bar than to drink in a restaurant.”
Hey, come to think of it, that might be Suit757’s new motto!
The most prominent item on the menu was “Chickie's and Pete’s World Famous Crabfries”.
Is there any question? Gotta go with those. How could I live with myself if I didn’t?
Clearly, this item is not meant to be consumed by just one human. Especially when that human is ordering a crab cake sandwich to go with the “World Famous Crabfries”.
But like I said, I was hungry.
The sandwich was tasty, consisting of two small crab cakes, lettuce, tomato and remoulade sauce.
Seasoned well with a good bit of bready filler, these crab cakes will do if you can’t get to Baltimore or Norfolk.
But at nearly midnight on a Wednesday, I really had nothing to complain about.
Especially when I noticed that Newcastle and Miller High Life bottles were on special.
Unfortunately, the $3 Newcastle, which I haven’t tried in years, just reinforced all my pre-conceived notions of the British who brew this bland, boring, waste of good barley.
After choking that Eurotrash down, the “Champagne of Beer” never tasted so good. Especially for two bucks.
If I wasn’t so tired I might have noticed (or cared) that some of them were pretty decent looking – at least for Yankee chicks.
What is it about Jersey girls anyway?
All I knew was that after an hour of enduring amplified Jersey girls I was in desperate need of another Goody’s.
And a good night’s sleep.
Rating: Would Wear A Free Shirt.