Comments on: The View from Power Plant Live(!) http://www.marginnotes.net/2008/01/13/the-view-from-power-plant-live/ Baltimorean becoming a Montanan. Thu, 20 Nov 2008 17:03:59 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.6.3 By: Jack http://www.marginnotes.net/2008/01/13/the-view-from-power-plant-live/#comment-1091 Jack Wed, 13 Feb 2008 17:57:08 +0000 http://www.marginnotes.net/2008/01/13/the-view-from-power-plant-live/#comment-1091 I've been to the power plant. It pretty much is just as described. A place for tons of women but that is a double edged sword. The women that go there are in groups, almost impossible to meet any of them as it seems this is their excuse to band together under the influence of alcohol to be seen, lusted after to stroke their egos, even the heavier ones, and to be downright unfriendly and nasty as they want to be to men thanks to the alcohol and safety in numbers mentality. The women there are rude, unfriendly and only want to tease. They are not there to meet anyone nice. Only to look at guys, to cock block any male that doesn't meet their personal set standards in looks that is trying to remotely get close to their friend to meet, and possibly get a number and date, which leads to marriage sometimes I might ad. God forbid you are male and find a female attractive there. You're better off going to a strip bar and seeing something for all the foul mouthed attitude. At least there, you see some skin for the mouthy broad in front of you, and a friendly attitude if you got lots of ones in your pocket. The power plant live is one drunken free for all place that is more or less Baltimore's Bourbon Street. It's a cess pool of young arrogant women and girl starved young men hoping to meet a nice girl. Seems like the way it is in most clubs along the four state east coast "new york corridor." Don't waste your time. Try a Karioke bar or a country western music club. At least there you'll meet a good quality person and a better chance of getting at least some conversation back, rather than the typical girl friend grabbing the girl of your interest's arm saying, "She's got a boy friend," or "She's not interested in you," as she's dragged away from her non approving friend. Funny, the girl is always talking to you showing interest when that happens... It's Juevenille and highschoolish childishness mentality at best, and a waste of time the power plant live is. I’ve been to the power plant. It pretty much is just as described. A place for tons of women but that is a double edged sword. The women that go there are in groups, almost impossible to meet any of them as it seems this is their excuse to band together under the influence of alcohol to be seen, lusted after to stroke their egos, even the heavier ones, and to be downright unfriendly and nasty as they want to be to men thanks to the alcohol and safety in numbers mentality. The women there are rude, unfriendly and only want to tease. They are not there to meet anyone nice. Only to look at guys, to cock block any male that doesn’t meet their personal set standards in looks that is trying to remotely get close to their friend to meet, and possibly get a number and date, which leads to marriage sometimes I might ad. God forbid you are male and find a female attractive there. You’re better off going to a strip bar and seeing something for all the foul mouthed attitude. At least there, you see some skin for the mouthy broad in front of you, and a friendly attitude if you got lots of ones in your pocket. The power plant live is one drunken free for all place that is more or less Baltimore’s Bourbon Street. It’s a cess pool of young arrogant women and girl starved young men hoping to meet a nice girl. Seems like the way it is in most clubs along the four state east coast “new york corridor.”

Don’t waste your time. Try a Karioke bar or a country western music club. At least there you’ll meet a good quality person and a better chance of getting at least some conversation back, rather than the typical girl friend grabbing the girl of your interest’s arm saying, “She’s got a boy friend,” or “She’s not interested in you,” as she’s dragged away from her non approving friend. Funny, the girl is always talking to you showing interest when that happens… It’s Juevenille and highschoolish childishness mentality at best, and a waste of time the power plant live is.

]]> By: Dad http://www.marginnotes.net/2008/01/13/the-view-from-power-plant-live/#comment-1067 Dad Tue, 15 Jan 2008 20:40:36 +0000 http://www.marginnotes.net/2008/01/13/the-view-from-power-plant-live/#comment-1067 January 13, 2008 It was oddly coincidental that this afternoon I read your observations on Baltimore as, inter alia, “a city suffering from . . . neglect,” we having just last night viewed Disk 1 of <i>The Wire</i>, Season 4. The account of your Market Street wanderings called to mind my 1940s Saturday visits, age thirteen through fifteen, to Baltimore. My father, on his way to work at the Western Electric Plant, Point Breeze, would drop me off at 7 A.M or so at Light and Pratt Streets. One could not see the harbor, for the view was blocked by the huge ramshackle warehouses that served as storage areas for the cargo that was daily loaded onto or unloaded from the ocean-going vessels that back then plied the Chesapeake Bay. Crossing the bustling intersection, I would walk north to Lexington Street and Nedick’s, the only eatery opened at this hour. I would sit at the counter and order the breakfast special of an orange, a doughnut, and coffee for fifteen cents total. An hour or so later I would meet up with one or another of my Gibson Island summer friends and we would spend the day in movie houses, record shops, and second-hand bookstores. Returning to Light and Pratt at 4:15 P.M. –- I’d better be on time or the ol’ man would blow a gasket! –- I would await our 1935 black two-door Ford sedan. Conversation during the half-hour journey back to Gibson Island was minimal, my father weary and looking forward to his routine several-minute stop for a draft beer at a favorite tavern on Mountain Road, I buried in thought of the pleasures awaiting me from the handful of 78RPMs, several books, and <i>Record Changer</i> and <i>down beat</i> jazz magazines I had that day purchased. January 13, 2008

It was oddly coincidental that this afternoon I read your observations on Baltimore as, inter alia, “a city suffering from . . . neglect,” we having just last night viewed Disk 1 of The Wire, Season 4.

The account of your Market Street wanderings called to mind my 1940s Saturday visits, age thirteen through fifteen, to Baltimore. My father, on his way to work at the Western Electric Plant, Point Breeze, would drop me off at 7 A.M or so at Light and Pratt Streets. One could not see the harbor, for the view was blocked by the huge ramshackle warehouses that served as storage areas for the cargo that was daily loaded onto or unloaded from the ocean-going vessels that back then plied the Chesapeake Bay.

Crossing the bustling intersection, I would walk north to Lexington Street and Nedick’s, the only eatery opened at this hour. I would sit at the counter and order the breakfast special of an orange, a doughnut, and coffee for fifteen cents total. An hour or so later I would meet up with one or another of my Gibson Island summer friends and we would spend the day in movie houses, record shops, and second-hand bookstores.

Returning to Light and Pratt at 4:15 P.M. –- I’d better be on time or the ol’ man would blow a gasket! –- I would await our 1935 black two-door Ford sedan. Conversation during the half-hour journey back to Gibson Island was minimal, my father weary and looking forward to his routine several-minute stop for a draft beer at a favorite tavern on Mountain Road, I buried in thought of the pleasures awaiting me from the handful of 78RPMs, several books, and Record Changer and down beat jazz magazines I had that day purchased.

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