June 13, 2009
So, we did manage to make Amsterdam last night in time for the Wings game thanks to a favorable current and good weather. Got a hot tip from the operator in Lock 12 to tie up before Lock 11 in Amsterdam and hoof it over to Russo’s, a little bar and grill across the tracks from the tie-up wall. Alex and I got to the bar for the first intermission – not bad.
The place was like freakin’ Cheers. I flagged the barmaid down and asked if we could put the Wings game on one of her three TVs. She asked, “Which one would you like?” I picked the closest one, naturally. A couple of guys at the bar said “Are you boaters?” Then, “Hey, we got boaters!” One of the guys peels off the bar; I thought he was going to hug me at first. He introduced himself (Chris) as the self-appointed canal ambassador and actual lock attendant and asked how we were liking our trip so far. Somewhere it came up that we hadn’t received any of the voluminous pamphlets available to canal travelers at the locks and he went around the corner. Turns out he had a mini-office there in the bar with all this literature. We now have about five copies of each. He kept going back for more and bringing the same stuff. He was really put out that no one had offered us any of this stuff to this point; he wanted me to call Carmella M. (Director of Locks, NY Canal System) and complain.
I mentioned that we had been rating the hot wings at each bar we had stopped at and that currently Pony’s in Middleport was the best. Chris immediately turns to Barbara behind the bar and orders us 20 wings on him. Then Mike bought us a beer. Then I bought them a beer. Then…well, you know how that goes.
Made the mistake of asking Mike what his job was. I was regaled with about two hours of intricate detail regarding the collection of back taxes in NY followed by a complete history of the NY State House, the major players, the power grabs, and a bunch of other arcane stuff. Now you have to picture Milton from the movie “Office Space.” Ziggy thought he looked like Wimpy from the old Popeye cartoons. Anyway, he followed me around most of the night providing yet more details about NY finances.
Meanwhile, back at the bar…Alex and Eve were sort of the center of attention. It didn’t help when they were dancing on the chairs to “Single Ladies (Put a ring on it).” Alex insists that standing on the chair rung is not the same as dancing on the chair. Whatever. Their songs were done and Chris put some Sinatra on. And then here came the Coach. Now the Coach looks a lot like Charlie Rich (Duane will understand). Maybe George Jones for the rest of you. Think smooth gray hair, sixty years old. Coach must have finally got enough booze in him to ask Alex to dance. They actually did pretty well; Alex must get her dancing talent from her mother. I wish I would have had the presence of mind to snap pics with the iPhone, but Mike was deep into the tax code by that time…
Sinatra gave way to Dean Martin on the ‘box. The song was “Houston”. If you remember the lyrics, the chorus goes: “Goin’ back to Houston, Houston, Houston.” We were all singing along and changed the lyric to “Russo’s”, Hence the title of this post.
Watched the last best hope for the Wings clang off the top bar. Found out from Tom that Phil, Mardo, and Adam were down at the Joe for the game. Tickets were $400. Too bad it didn’t have a different ending.
At the end of the night, well after the Wings game, Chris slipped a t-shirt into my hand. Turns out to be an official NY State Canal Corporation shirt, same as the lock operators wear. I’m wearing it today; hope it’s not illegal or something. Also got a business card from some guy who insisted that I call him if we needed anything for the trip. I mentioned offhand that our half-and-half had gone bad; they immediately went into a huddle (seriously) to debate where the closest grocery store was and how long it would take to get there and who could deliver half-and-half to the boat in the morning. I had to intervene and insist that we were capable of stopping at a store down the canal and assure them that they had been more than generous already.
Russo’s – my kind of place. A little bit goofy and the wings ain’t bad - second place behind Pony’s. I asked the girls for three words to describe the company last night: “creepy, old and creepy.” Overly harsh, I think.
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