Greenville and The Granada

Standing alone on Greenville Avenue with a flask and what had become a half pack of smokes, I shot out a few text messages. No response, though I was not surprised by this (I'm not exactly high priority company). The Granada was having bands play all afternoon on their patio, which seemed like it would be a good time, or at least a better time than standing alone at a somewhat ambiguous location. Also, it was free.

Finally I received a reply text from Eric indicating that he was indeed at the Granada with some people. One problem: I wasn't sure which direction it was. I knew that north of me was the Dubliner, Stan's, and a bunch of other bars. This was less a testament to my knowledge of East Dallas geography than it was to the stench of beer and sweat emanating from that direction. In fact, the whole block was fenced off and open only to those who were 21+ and had 5 bucks cash. I'm 25, so I was allowed to enter. I had a hunch that the Granada was beyond this madness.

Fuck. Five bucks. Okay, fine, whatever. Anything to get me north.

I start wandering through the throngs of drunk douchebags and suddenly it dawns on me that if the Granada is not this way, I'm screwed. As I descended further into the madness, I was pretty sure I was going in the wrong direction, but I pushed onward anyway. This perseverance had nothing to do with "trusting my first instincts". I just couldn't turn around because it was too fucking crowded and I wanted out ASAP. Oh, I still hadn't eaten anything.

Keep going, check wallet, look angry.

There were cops on the rooftops looking down on the rather mild debauchery below. I didn't see any snipers, but that's probably the point. By the time I hit Stan's Blue Note, the end was in sight, and I could see gates at the northern end of the "strip". Some dude in a yellow jacket stamps my hand (like I was coming back?). I'm out.

Now I should explain that at this point that I was seriously considering just getting a cab back to my car and driving home for a shower and a nap. I haven't had a drink since I left Ed's car (which honestly wasn't that long ago), haven't eaten anything since the night before, and was all by myself. Something made me keep walking North (beer?), and shortly thereafter (3 blocks or so) I saw the San Francisco Rose (bar) and I knew that the Granada was just beyond (that little revelation came DIRECTLY from my superior knowledge of East Dallas geography).

Oh, that shining beacon of Greenville, the Granada Theatre! The sign rises from the murky asphalt like a... hold on, let me log onto Google Street View and see... a, well, it actually looks quite plain. Just a vertical sign with "GRANADA" on it. Anyway, it looked good to me, as I really needed a drink and a place to relax (not to mention someone to complain to; I was getting quite annoyed with myself).

Walking up to the ancient (for Dallas) theatre, I noticed that there were a lot of people milling around the outside. I ask the lady at the "entrance" (it was just a break in the chained off area of the sidewalk) how I could get in, and she said she only needed my ID. I was a bit wary, but she assured me that she wouldn't keep it, but that she just wanted to take a look and would give it back. She had an honest face, so I took a chance. She handed it back, and I was in!

See Eric and others, go to bar, order whiskey. Drink. Order more, drink. Rock out. Switch to Miller Lite. Order slice of pizza (first food of the day). GOOD. Order another. Drink. Rock out.

At this point (approximately), a few things dawn on me. First, my phone is running out of juice. Second, I'm running out of money (and I have no ATM card (long story)). Third, I have an engagement at night with a different group of fine folks (you know who you are) that I promised I'd be at, yet my car is in Lakewood (not that I was in any condition to drive it). Finally, I'm running out of cigarettes. There was nothing I could do about my first problem, but I made arrangements for my mother to meet up with Jeff (who I would be seeing later that night) and give him money for me. That worked. Thanks, Mom (and Jeff)!

As I mentioned previously, there were bands playing on the "patio" of the Granada. The first band was pretty good; a lot of energy, good tunes, etc. Their bassist was a Ginger, which freaked me out a bit, but not too bad.

Drink count: ~?

The second band was badass. They were hippies, and they busted out Dylan songs, Panic songs, probably some Dead, etc. Hippie music. Jammed it out, etc. However, by this point, the sun was coming in at such an extreme angle that the awning didn't do jack shit. Fucking inferior awnings.

Anyway, at some point during this thing, I had gotten new cigarettes (another problem solved; see above) and more people I knew had shown up (Christy and Megan at least, although there could have been others as well).

Rock out. Drink more beer. Rock out more. Puff (legal) smoke.

New idea: Andrew can pick me up on his way into town! Brilliant!

Well, after drinking and rocking out for many hours, my crew was heading to another locale. I probably wasn't, as I had the aforementioned engagement in a couple hours and my ride was getting close. We parted ways at Greenville and McCommas (not sure if they noticed that this actually happened). With the rest of the group descending into the madness (Lower Greenville or drunkenness, take your pick), I headed for Central down McCommas.

Next: Andrew's and the Limo, or "Waiting by the side of the road and then making a great decision."