Things I Hate About Newport
When I reluctantly agreed to go-in on a house this summer down in Newport with some friends, I knew there’d be a few things that would bother me -- crowded bars, long lines and 3rd degree sun burn on my back to name a few. Not to mention that I wasn’t 25 anymore, and long, very long, days and nights of excessive drinking might be too much for me and my 3-decade old liver to handle. And while I thoroughly enjoy going to the beach and doing absolutely nothing for hours at a time, as well meeting random girls from across the country and eating countless cheeseburgers, today I will be focusing on things I really didn’t expect to piss me off about Newport, and after 2 months, I have truly grown to hate.
“$20 Covers” – What is this, the freakin’ Foxy Lady? How can a “regular bar” with fully clothed “regular girls” justify charging $20 to get in the door? If I’m paying that much I better come home with a free t-shirt, blue balls, and glitter all over my face. I can see 4th of July weekend is one thing, but last Saturday I paid $20 to get into “The Dockside”. Um, I didn’t see any girls on poles or single-toothed, drooling degenerates passed-out in the front row with a folded-up $1 bill as a pillow. And there was no Keno at this Dockside. It was basically a half-way decent cover band and a bunch of average looking girls rocking out to “Don’t Stop Believing”. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s more the principle. I have the 20 bucks. I just expect a little more bang for my buck.
“Bachelorette Parties” – Jesus Christ is there anything more annoying than an over zealous bachelorette party invading the dance floor of a bar, screaming and yelling with a blowup doll in multi-girl “train formation”?? There can’t be. And does the blowup doll pay a cover? He should! The thing with bachelorette parties is that you know either you or one of your buddies is gonna get “lassoed” by a fat chick with a feather boa at some point during the evening and wind-up going home without any drawers and nothing to show for it but a peck on the cheek. It’s just awful. Bachelorette parties down in Newport are like Arod. They look so good but never deliver. You’re like, “Oooooooh, bachelorette party…” Then 45 minutes later you’re like, “UGH. F’n bachelorette party.” And 75% of the time, approximately, the only hot one is the actual bachelorette! Makes sense, doesn’t it?? So it’s really a no-win situation. Why girls on bachelorette parties don’t hook-up is one of the great mysteries of our time…
“Swoopers” – By my count, there’s 9 of us who actually paid money to rent this friggin’ house. 7 guys, 2 girls. But every weekend it seems these random people are showing up from God-knows-where, and to borrow a line, “Stealing our heat.” Who are they? I didn’t know my rent money was going towards dudes from New Jersey. What the fuck? That’s my can you’re shitting on. That’s my shower you’re pissing in. And those are my girls you’re hitting on. Or maybe I’m just being a miserable prick? Eh, who cares? Just buy me a beer and don’t freak people out. (Note: Female swoopers are perfectly acceptable.)
“The waiting room at The Landing” – Yes, like a doctor’s office, there is a waiting room to get into The Landing – a two floor, outdoor-indoor bar/club off Thames Street. So not only do you have to wait 30 minutes in line as people “cut” in front of you to get in (read: girls that blow the bouncers), but after you pay the $15-$20 at the door, they put you in a f’n waiting room for another 15 minutes before allowing you in the actual bar. Its one of the worst concepts for a couple of reasons - namely, THERE’S NOBODY IN THE FUCKING BAR! I mean there ARE people, but there’s always been plenty of room… It’s like a holding cell with an empty prison. It makes no sense and I am boycotting that place, at least until Saturday.
“One more song! One more song!” – I hate f’n “One more song”. You’re not at the damn Pearl Jam show. It’s a bar. They have to close at 1:00. (Another thing that sucks.) I saw one guy so adamant the cover band at The Pelham play “one more song” the veins in his neck almost popped me in the face when he screamed, “PLAY FUCKING FREE BIRD!!!” He wasn’t kidding. Like, he really REALLY was not kidding. It probably wasn’t the appropriate time, but I was going to suggest he just put a dollar in the jukebox next to him. Not sure it would’ve been the same for him but whatever. So far the “One more song” chant is 0 for Newport…
“Coronas in a can” – What’s with the Coronas in a can down in Newport? This should simply not be allowed. Its un-American or anti-Mexican or whatever. It’s definitely anti-something. I know it’s probably to prevent Meatheads from breaking bottles over each other’s heads, but it takes me a good 30 seconds to shove the obviously over-sized lime into the obviously under-sized, 3 centimeter hole. Half the time I slice my thumb, lime juice squirts somebody in the face; it’s just never a good experience. If a bar doesn’t have Coronas in a bottle, there should be a giant sign letting you know. It’s demoralizing ordering a Corona thinking you’re getting a bottle, only instead receiving a can… I’m not sure how I made it through the weekend.
“Guys doin’ schtick” – Inevitably in Newport you will find yourself at a party. And unfortunately, mark my words, inevitably there will be 2 guys doin’ schtick. What the fuck. Stop. It’s not funny. Please just stop doing schtick. You’re not “Turtle” and “Drama”. It’s real life. And these are real girls you’re embarrassing yourself in front of. A few weeks ago the “schtick” from these 2 dorks got so bad I almost walked out of the house, up route 114, and all the way back to Boston. Where do these guys come from? Were they funny in college? Who does schtick?? Please stop.
“The ABC” – “Fake cans and Meatheads” is how most people would describe the Atlantic Beach Company, a.k.a. “The ABC”. The former I have no problem with, even the latter I can deal with, in spurts, but personally I just can’t stomach The ABC. Now granted the one time I’ve gone I was sick as a dog from undercooked chicken the night before and drank pink lemonade out of a straw for 2 hours, but I was getting tons of weird looks. At one point I almost stood up and yelled, “I’m not gay, okay!!” I just felt completely out of place, especially having real breasts and all. The waitresses I liked though. They were cute. And the 85 year old man with the Red Sox hat dancing is hilarious…
Well you probably can’t tell but I’ve actually enjoyed my summer, for the most part, down in Newport thus far. I just hate certain things about it, hence my 1100 word rant. Now whether this is because I’m “too old” for Newport or whether my complaints are legit – well, I guess that’s something for somebody else to decide. For now, get me to the beach and pass me a Corona… in a bottle, of course.