Yeah! Football is back. The never ending rivalry within the family between the Packers and Bears is renewed. Fall is in the air. Well, not down here, where everything remains green, only the temps drop. Brendan called a couple of Sundays ago and asked if I would join him at Tryst Glastro to watch some football. Tryst Glastro? SOunds like some form of bowel obstruction. I hopped on the bike even with the threat of rain and headed downtown just across from the Museum of Fine Arts and North Straub Park.
There I found him and his new dog, Sarah sitting in a kind of neat place where stools abut against a counter with an open window looking into this rather ritzy bar/eatery. Sarah had her water bowl and after giving me the sniff test, deemed me OK and resumed her nap. Brendan is a Packer fan and has been attempting to recruit me forever. His grandfather, Herb, was a Packer fan, too, but his sister, Mackenzie has gone over to the dark side and to promote her own family harmony, roots for the Bears.
I like to claim that my father on his deathbed made me promise to hate the Bears, thus my obvious disdain. But, actually, his influence and hatred was a fabric of Sundays since we were little. He claimed Halas was a dirty coach and that the Bears, in toto, were dirty as well. Brainwashing or the Stockholm Syndrome, take your pick, but I, too, am trying to continue my father's legacy.
Brendan told me to get a Bloody Mary, that they were good. So, taking that recommendation as gold, I ordered one.
If you look close enough you will see that this baby cost me $9.63 cents, and that is without the tip. This is what happens when you answer a phone call and sit down at a place that is called Gastro Tryst that caters to...well, not people like me. My phone died shortly after this so no more pics. Too bad, because you could see the huge-ass rain cloud coming in from the east.
The bartender's name was Julia. Yeah, Julia. A guy, as in beard, and Adam's apple and all that stuff. I realize my Mugshot Monday's feature a lot of tranny's so this may be some kind of Kinky Paradise down here, but really, Julia was a cool guy. Turns out he is from Minnesota but his grandfather lives in Israel, and he is named Julia as well. Nice guy. A student who will be graduating soon in Communications/Media.
Another waiter type person who works at the Tryst is a former co-worker with Brendan from Three Birds days. So it was kind of nice to get out on a warm but threatening day, rain-wise in St. Pete, see some sights, overspend on drinks and watch some football. Oh, and the conversation I had with Brendan was great. We talked of football, fantasy (3 leagues this year), his work and classes, dating (his), and the kinds of things dads talk with their sons. Sarah napped and occasionally came up to see what was going on, lick my hands, lick herself, then go back napping. It was an expensive afternoon, what with 2 Bloody Mary's...hmmm, wait, Brendan bought me one also, so 3 Bloody Mary's and a few beers after that.
I had a nice little time, talking to the kid, not watching much football, then hopping on my bike and riding home in a downpour. He also related things about his time in Iraq that kind of scared me. Turns out most of his time was in convoys, not safely where he said he was. It was a fun afternoon of guy talk and I'm glad he called me. There comes a point in relationships where you go to the next level of feelings thoughts and questions. Brendan and I have had these kinds of chats before, and I enjoy them. It means there is a measure of trust.
Just as soon as we ran out of money and decided to call it an afternoon, the skies opened up with a deluge and it was a hairy but fun ride back home. Reminded me of another rain-soaked ride I enjoyed once back from Crappy's North into BFE, and both times I got off the bike at home and smiled with unconstrained contentment.
There I found him and his new dog, Sarah sitting in a kind of neat place where stools abut against a counter with an open window looking into this rather ritzy bar/eatery. Sarah had her water bowl and after giving me the sniff test, deemed me OK and resumed her nap. Brendan is a Packer fan and has been attempting to recruit me forever. His grandfather, Herb, was a Packer fan, too, but his sister, Mackenzie has gone over to the dark side and to promote her own family harmony, roots for the Bears.
I like to claim that my father on his deathbed made me promise to hate the Bears, thus my obvious disdain. But, actually, his influence and hatred was a fabric of Sundays since we were little. He claimed Halas was a dirty coach and that the Bears, in toto, were dirty as well. Brainwashing or the Stockholm Syndrome, take your pick, but I, too, am trying to continue my father's legacy.
Brendan told me to get a Bloody Mary, that they were good. So, taking that recommendation as gold, I ordered one.
This is the Bloody Mary and while OK, it was certainly not as good as many I have had, most of them being much much cheaper as well.
If you look close enough you will see that this baby cost me $9.63 cents, and that is without the tip. This is what happens when you answer a phone call and sit down at a place that is called Gastro Tryst that caters to...well, not people like me. My phone died shortly after this so no more pics. Too bad, because you could see the huge-ass rain cloud coming in from the east.
The bartender's name was Julia. Yeah, Julia. A guy, as in beard, and Adam's apple and all that stuff. I realize my Mugshot Monday's feature a lot of tranny's so this may be some kind of Kinky Paradise down here, but really, Julia was a cool guy. Turns out he is from Minnesota but his grandfather lives in Israel, and he is named Julia as well. Nice guy. A student who will be graduating soon in Communications/Media.
Another waiter type person who works at the Tryst is a former co-worker with Brendan from Three Birds days. So it was kind of nice to get out on a warm but threatening day, rain-wise in St. Pete, see some sights, overspend on drinks and watch some football. Oh, and the conversation I had with Brendan was great. We talked of football, fantasy (3 leagues this year), his work and classes, dating (his), and the kinds of things dads talk with their sons. Sarah napped and occasionally came up to see what was going on, lick my hands, lick herself, then go back napping. It was an expensive afternoon, what with 2 Bloody Mary's...hmmm, wait, Brendan bought me one also, so 3 Bloody Mary's and a few beers after that.
I had a nice little time, talking to the kid, not watching much football, then hopping on my bike and riding home in a downpour. He also related things about his time in Iraq that kind of scared me. Turns out most of his time was in convoys, not safely where he said he was. It was a fun afternoon of guy talk and I'm glad he called me. There comes a point in relationships where you go to the next level of feelings thoughts and questions. Brendan and I have had these kinds of chats before, and I enjoy them. It means there is a measure of trust.
Just as soon as we ran out of money and decided to call it an afternoon, the skies opened up with a deluge and it was a hairy but fun ride back home. Reminded me of another rain-soaked ride I enjoyed once back from Crappy's North into BFE, and both times I got off the bike at home and smiled with unconstrained contentment.
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