Thursday, March 29, 2012
I often visit places and write about my history with it. I can't do that here. I mean, I could, but it would be the longest post I've ever written. I could write a book like The Tender Bar. So, similar to what William Least Heat Moon did at the beginning of Blue Highways, I will devote one paragraph to my history with the place and then nothing more:
I met Elizabeth at Lucky Baldwins. And Tracie. And Tim. And Murph. Carla, Bryce, Hatcher, Dave, Min, Rob, Phil, Mick... If you've read their name here and they are not related to me, there is a 90% chance I met them at Lucky's. The first legal drink I had in America was on my 21st birthday on their patio. The only time I've ever had my heart broken was by a girl who worked there. The last time I ever saw my friend Erik was inside the bar one Thanksgiving. A friend of mine who worked there said she needed a ride and when I asked where she said Boston; I drove her. I received phone calls there more than once and on another occasion mail. After 17 years of heartache following the Angels I watched them win their only World Series from a table on the patio. I held the owner's son in my hands on his first day home from the hospital and presented my birthday present: a Shaquille O'Neal onesie; he didn't care at the time which was probably for the best. I used to play the entire Small Change album on the jukebox until the cook asked me to stop because he said it was making him suicidal. I once was interviewed sitting on a barstool by the local ABC news at 6:10 in the morning with a pint in my hand.
Like I wrote, I have not been a regular at Lucky Baldwin's for three years. There is no need to go into the reasons why. But hanging out there with a bunch of friends was the perfect way to spend my last weekend in Pasadena.
Posted by JustinM at 9:30 AM