Talk of the new Stillwater bridge opening was all the rage at The Next Stop in Houlton in recent days. One older patron, who was relatively new to the area, said he bought his first car, a Model A, at about the time people and politicians alike started talking about such a project to replace the also old and overworked lift bridge.
But for that day, the man and his buddies couldn’t cross the lift bridge right away — it is set to soon be closed for yet another rehab — so they settled for watching traffic while at the Irish pub complete with big patio, less than a football field away from the mechanical apparatus that goes up and down to let boaters through. That’s before settling into a bar stool at The Next Stop.
It is the former kind of viewing that familiarized them with the two-dozen-or-so members of an antique car club that sometimes clog the old lift bridge as they pass into Wisconsin. With the new bridge, they could now be less of a disruption, as they make their way over to Hudson, then cross the Interstate 94 span to get to a Lakeland haunt and revel a little. When doing this on that particular day, they would have seen the big neon traffic sign that goes up now and again to announce the closing of the lift bridge — this time short and sweet, not getting into a lot of dates for closing and reopening.
And lastly, this elderly observer who has done this for awhile noted that it would be good for business for the two taverns in Houlton to offer a cart to truly let people Escape to Wisconsin, going over the lift bridge in a year-or-so when its transformation into only a biking and walking bridge is complete.
— They all start with BR, and that’s not to mean they’re your brother. I teased a new bartender about her name, saying that a new study shows that 27 percent of those in the serving industry go by Brandi, although the spelling beyond the first letters differs radically. Then her somewhat older co-worker and I invoked the names given by Frank Zappa to his children, but the younger of the three of us had no clue about that. At which time I upped the ante, saying that between Brandy and Brittney, 44 percent of those in the trade respond when called that.
— This bit of wisdom from a local bartender, on being tipsy together. After many years of marriage, she and her much heavier hubby have eventually learned drink-versus-drink synchronicity, in other words getting fully toasted at exactly the same moment, one of those things where it’s only a matter of time before you morph into being your spouse. Now take that alike timing to the bedroom … I wasn’t going to go there.
— The late-night national TV news showed a bus in Houston that had burst into flames. Not to make light of that, or the news event I’m about to reference, but this is the ultimate example of a no-brainer great headline. Back in my days with the Hudson Star-Observer, I once took the initiative (bosses usually at least claim to like that), to pull myself off of deadline and take a photo of a stalled Greyhound bus that might or might not have its back end on fire. When arriving on the scene, I saw the typical front-and-center placard of destination — lets just add that its the same as last week’s accident and both are from the same city in Texas. The obvious headline, certain to be recognized by the crew that listen to classic rock? “Houston we have a problem!” When back at the office, and writing a deadline story about every 97 seconds or so, I did still find the time to on two occasions briefly share my I-thought-clever headline with a co-worker, and the now-departed publisher heard it both times and boy was he pissed! Seems he subscribes, or should I say subscribed, to the idea that you should keep your nose to the grindstone every second of every day, somehow find the time to make those extra calls(s) on deadline to get added accident info, and forgot that cup of mocha. But Steve, its all OK now, the fire is out.
— Perhaps this is something that would be even more appreciated in the ladies room. In the guys bathroom at Dick’s Bar and Grill, setting on top of the metal towel cabinet was Frebreeze odor freshener, the variety of flavor chosen simply saying “air.” Would be more impressed if that was the Tropical-Mango-Pumpkin-scented variety.