Liv JonesLive fast, love hard, travel till it hurts.

Sunday, 7 February 2016

A 'honest' night in Greensboring

I had been gone for a year. Spent a good part of 2014-2015 living in Cardiff Wales and when I returned home in September and I found Susan Ladd's commentary titled "Time to put 'Greensboring' moniker to rest" sitting on my desk. I felt like it was a direct message to me. The truth is I'm not going to disagree, it is time to put it to rest, but not for the reasons you think.

First, I didn't come up with the slang term for the city of Greensboro nor will simply laundry listing the things to do in the area stop people from using it or make the city better (so don't complain to me). Indeed, in the nine years I've been blogging under this domain, I still am personally frustrated with the lack of maturity from residents who demand that the city is a bustling metropolis of fundom without the humility to consider the possibility for it to be better. Is Greensboro perfect? No, but it can always be better. Does it fit for you? Well, then, awesome, but consider the fact that there are ways to expand the living quality beyond your ideals to encompass and include everyone's diverse tastes who live in the area.

A lot has changed since I've been gone. I spend a lot of time down on Elm Street (when I'm actually allowed out of the house). Where did the free Wifi go? Why could I not get into the parking garage (because the gates shut down at 9 PM) on my birthday? Why when I walk into Natty Greene's last night did it feel more like an Applebee's than a proper bar? The average age in this place was approaching sixty and two older women sat at their table giving me disgusted faces for showing up in leather and off the shoulder top while they shoveled nachos and bleu cheese burgers down their gourds. I'm sorry, I thought bars were supposed to serve crappy food and cheap drinks. When did not being boring include orthopedic shoes and family night with a litter of misbehaving children playing Duck Hunt?

How does this even happen?
Deciding it wasn't our scene we walked down Elm. The clubs don't open to later and the one super cool bar: a dueling piano bar was dead-bolted too. Back to Stumble Stilkens where at least you can escape the geriatric party scene since they can't climb the staircase. A shot of vodka, a Jack with Coke and my pool skills go out the window. Still no bloody Wi-Fi to Snapchat my rocking eve. Got the darts out and got my ass handed to me by my date.  When she wasn't looking I noticed this guy is lifting his glass to me, perhaps flirting. Ten minutes later, I realize the guy is a girl. I've found my scene.

Onwards and upwards, after a few hours we stumble out of the bar and find the streets filled with preppy old people and a banjo player. I have a complete respect of buskers and their hard work. For some reason, a banjo, in downtown Greensboro was too much for me to handle and I got the giggles. I tried to convince my date that was time to go to Limelight (a club). On my birthday we went to Latin night and had an amazing time. She declined and reminded me of our compromise due to her schedule the following day. Noticing Alex's Cheesecakes was still open, we decided to grab some sugar-free cheesecake for later that night. No, the real joy was next.... sobering up to drive home. Because, it's practically impossible to get anywhere from downtown without a car.  So, thank God for Pizza L'Italiano.... the single best pizza place in Greensboro. They sell simply the best pepperoni pizza in Greensboro for about $2.75 a slice.  This cheesy carby piece of heaven simply makes the night complete.

Eventually, covered in parmesan with my mascara smudged, we made it back to the car. Note to self, remember where you park before you drink. Thankfully, the red horn button on the key fob worked (now I know what that's for). At this point we were freezing, got in the car and sat waiting for it to heat up while listening to Vidya Vox. As I pulled out on the street a cop pulls up behind us. I'm driving the Mustang and suddenly I get  super focused on driving perfectly. Not sure if he's here to chase me out of town, arrest me or he's just my fan club but he follows me all the way to MLK Street. "Jesus, they need to pave this street", I think as I'm rattled back into reality from the potholes.

At home, I shovel cheesecake in my pie-hole while simultaneously complaining how the slice is smaller than last time, but realizing I don't need the calories anyway. Overall, it was an interesting night in Greensboring. Boring, no? Unusual, yes! As long as I don't compare a night out in Greensboring to London, Paris or Brussels then we must admit we have our own unique nightlife that is a bit slow paced, hijacked by baby-boomers and is a wee bit of a police state. Perhaps it's not moniker we need to put to rest but the idea we will ever have the soul and nightlife of a major city. Maybe we just are who we are?  A big urban sprawl with the heart of a small town that is reluctant to change.... and maybe, just maybe, that's okay.