This afternoon, I thought it might be interesting to live blog an event that the Mayor actually attends. Something critical and groundbreaking, perhaps even newsworthy. Like, say perhaps, a “garden” party to celebrate his single-handed reclamation of a porn palace for the good citizens of Pittsburgh. <insert applause>
So off we toddled to West Park for the 4 PM kick-off time. We were promised live music and refreshments, plus entertainment. After snagging a primo parking spot on Arch Street, we thought things were going to be groovy and we were really looking forward to seeing the theater.
Unfortunately, Luke's partying aptitude requires a heavy dose of yinzerettes and Iron City, because this was just … sad.
See, the party was across the street from the Garden Theater. But … we weren't allowed to go in because there was a performance scheduled for later that evening. The nice lady keeping the homeless people away from the refreshment stand told us that we could save $2.00 on admission to the show. She also told us that the garden party was from 1 – 4 PM (it was 4:15 at the time) and refreshments would be served at 5 PM. So, perhaps she wasn't the most reliable of reporters.
This is where I stop the narrative. Why would you throw a party to celebrate reclaiming a theater and not let people see it? What the hell? Instead, I got to see 20 photos of the glory days and argue with a fussy gay man that, no I was not spending time at the Garden in 1974, because I was three years old and dealing with a curfew. Thus, I could not authentically sign his Garden Theater memory book. He seemed pissed.
So we milled around with the yuppies for awhile and fended off the overly eager Citi-Parks employees handing out programs, as well as some frightening giant puppet people. There were a few artsy vendors. I think someone drew a giant circle of protection in chalk around the whole affair to ward off people who don't pay property taxes. <am I being too mean? Ledcat thinks that, yes, I am.>
Meanwhile, I thirsted. The food lady told me that there were two whole coolers of beverages, but none for me. I had to wait until after the Mayor spoke. Cause if you throw a summer party and invite the entire Northside, why provide beverages to slake their thirst? Make 'em wait! I suppose I could trot down to the corner store … oh wait, this is the Northside. The corner store is 17 blocks away. Darn.
My thirst got the best of me. So we trotted back to Arch Street with plans to head to see our niece and get a glass of water to boot. With ice. On the way, we passed a car with tags that read “Ms. Tonya” and a bumper stickers proclaiming “African-Americans for Kerry/Edwards” so I presume my City Council Rep was there. Good for her.
I hope she brought a bottle of water.
Truth be told, I wasn't really going to live blog. I brought my trusty notepad and several pens. I even wrote some stuff down until I was accosted by yet another puppet person and decided to flee for the relative sanctity of Perry Hilltop. I did make time to stop and tell all the locals (taxpayers and otherwise) that dinner was on at 5 PM sharp.
This was a silly little event designed for self-congratulations and the never-ceasing Mayoral commitment to throw us off the important issues. Who throws a party and doesn't let you see the inside of the building? If my tax dollars built the damn barn, get the friggin giant puppet the hell out of the way and let me see what I have bought.
Maybe they should just send the giant puppets to City Council meetings and leave Luke to do the really important stuff …
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