A Tribute to Charm City

After my last post about the breath-taking splendor that is the great state of Montana a funny thing happened. I discovered a new and refreshing appreciation for my own fair city of Baltimore. I spent the majority of my vacation to where the deer and the antelope play mentally packing up all my belongings and fleeing the East without so much as a nostalgic glance over my shoulder. "I'm so over Baltimore!" I kept repeating to anyone that would listen. "The weather sucks and the people are mean." I was clearly itching for some new scenery and who could resist the landscape that the good ol' West was waving under my nose?
So it was no surprise when I begrudgingly set one foot off the plane at 10:30pm in Charm City and was immediately engulfed in a thick suffocating blanket of humidity that I wanted to spin right around and get back on the plane to anywhere but here. Stepping out into the heavy night air after collecting our bags didn't alleviate my misery one tiny bit.

My brother, Jon, however, couldn't have been more ecstatic to be home. He had convinced me on the plane that we needed to immediately seek the welcoming arms of the Fells Point nightlife. My rationality for agreeing to this insane notion was that after spending the entire day on an airplane, suffering through teeth-rattling turbulence over Denver, and losing two hours somewhere over Omaha I really needed a cocktail. I also figured my brain was still on Mountain time.

After shaking off the stale air of the plane and strolling through the cobblestone streets of Fells Point on the way to our favorite bar I was beginning to feel refreshed. Because of the horrendous parking options available on a Saturday close to midnight Jon and I had a few blocks to walk from our car. It was incredible what happened in those few little city blocks. I don't really know if it was Jon's enthusiasm and love for his city rubbing off on me, the extreme contrast of spending that very morning driving though a Montana valley and mere hours later walking the cracked streets of urban civilization, or maybe a little of both. The fact was, I saw my hometown through new eyes.

Baltimore is a city with a pulse, a city with a personality. It's pleasant enough to appreciate it for the historical architecture in downtown Fells Point or the tourist traps of the Inner Harbor; but what makes Baltimore stand out is what you wouldn't immediately pick up on. The simple diversity of culture that you witness if you just looked up long enough to see it is amazing. I don't mean that in a P.C. "Appreciate-All-Colors-And-Religions-Because-We're-All-Special" kind of way. I mean just seeing people co-existing- smiling, laughing, talking, or shouting at each other because their drunk. While walking the span of two blocks in Fells Point you will pass at least 12 bars, each with their own unique hook and loyal gang of patrons. Probably four or five of those bars will be featuring some crappy cover band or marginally talented folk singer likely playing for the free alcohol and basking in the attention of inebriated groupies. The sidewalks are saturated with bar-hoppers who all seem to be overly enthusiastic about one thing or another. And the entire time Jon and I are experiencing all the familiarity of just another Saturday night in Baltimore all Jon can say is, "I'm so happy to be home."

We reached our destination dangerously close to last call. So we grabbed a couple of Natty Bohs (that's National Bohemians for you foreigners) and settled into a couple of vacant stools. A few of our bleary eyed friends were scattered throughout the bar and more than happy to welcome us home. As the obligatory Boston, Bon Jovi, and Journey bar playlist faded through the chatter of inane bar conversation I sipped on my beer and smiled. This is a pretty frickin' cool city actually. The weather really does suck and many of its citizens could use a pretty drastic attitude adjustment but one thing's for damn sure- this town's never boring.

So with all that being said, the West still maintains a strong pull on my quarter-lifed restless spirit but cruising the balmy cobblestone streets of Fells on a summer night makes me a lot more hesitant to leave.