h1

a night at the hill

December 10, 2007

I may have mentioned Saturday I was supposed to meet up with Nate and his girlfriend Carrie at The Hill. Phoenix Hill Tavern, for those not in the know. I had never been there before so it was a nice learning experience. The place is huge, and seems as if they just kept adding on and building upwards until it is what it now is.

Three bands were playing in different areas, all inside, and the place is well insulated enough that you couldn’t tell it. I was impressed by that part alone. The Poptart Monkeys, Facedown, and Hookah Juice were on the bill. Poptart Monkeys are apparently from Philly, and did  a good job covering radio friendly punk. Facedown was a bit rougher, perhaps not as finely polished with their metal and alternative covers, but the frontman knew how to work the crowd and entertain between songs. Hookah Juice is pretty much crazy, playing whatever they want (from Kid Rock to Linkin Park and then The Bengals) and apparently I used to work with their singer. They were all entertaining.

Sequence of events:

  • Arrive at about 845 and call Nate, who says they’ll be there in about a half hour.
  • Grab some pizza and walk aroudn to check the place out.
  • Watch The Poptart Monkeys soundcheck.
  • Listen to FaceDown upstairs for a bit.
  • Drink a beer.
  • Get text message from Nate saying they are stuck for a bit, but coming soon.
  • Walk around a bit. Sit at the bar for a bit.
  • Smoke.
  • Drink beer and watch the Poptart Monkeys.
  • Another text from Nate saying they are on their way (about an hour and a half after originally told to arrive).
  • Discover Rooftop Garden and listen to Hookah Juice.
  • Find a friend from work watching Hookah Juice. Smoke and chat.
  • Nate arrives and buys beer. Tells me he has a female friend coming that I might like. Her divorce is almost final. Her kids are nice. Damaged goods for the win?
  • Stand around stonefaced and frankly not having a good time.
  • Smoke.
  • Stand around more.
  • Leave.

All in all, honestly, it was okay but I have a hard time saying I had fun. I do not sing along. I do not dance. I don’t jump. I stand there, hands in pockets and feeling very out of place. I can watch people enjoying themselves, but honestly can’t do that very much myself.

At least I didn’t have a hangover.

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