Poets, Yankees and Restaurant Owners

Ocean Temperature: 76 degrees (quite a change!)
Beach Read: Yankee Women: Gender Battles in the Civil War
Best song randomly heard on the radio: Poets, Tragically Hip

The beach gods smiled on Thing 3 and me today, lowering the air temperature to barely 80, raising the water temperature almost 20 degrees from 24 hours earlier and replacing yesterday's rolling beach fog with sunshine. Life indeed felt like a beach today, but then Thing 3 also knows how to have a good time anywhere.

Now that I've been here a few days, a couple of the locals have started recognizing me and one of the dog-walkers came over today to introduce himself and his dog while Thing 3 was on a beer run. Honestly, to a fly on the wall, our conversation could have happened at a bar instead of the beach, as he danced around finding out if I was single or not. The best thing about being hit on sitting in a beach chair is that at least the interested party knows what you look like scantily clad from the start...or is that a good thing?

For our evening's entertainment, we decided to do a beach pub crawl, figuring that lots of people would be out and about given the glorious weather. We were correct and found plenty of willing talkers everywhere we went.

The Kill Devil Grill (the former Millie's project) got us started and, despite Thing 3 having fixed us a superb meal before leaving, we indulged in the Philly Cheese steak eggrolls because, well because who ever heard of such a thing? As we sat at the bar, I couldn't help but notice that the guy next to me was reading Bon Appetit, which led to an interesting talk about how some men choose to attract women. I give him credit; he had a great sense of humor and a desire to spoil a girl in the kitchen, no minor qualities either one.

The Lucky 12 was loud and local and we had loads of fun taking a grilling about ourselves, the nature of our relationship and from whence we came from some of the more forward regulars, both male and female. Before long, though, Thing 3 looked at me in all seriousness and declared, "Drink up little guppy. It's time to hit the next place" and off we went.

Heading back up the beach, we made Ocean Boulevard our final stop because at barely half a mile from home, it offers the convenience of a leisurely beach walk home if necessary. Thing 3 and I got separated on entering the crowded bar and ended up at opposite ends for a while, giving us both a chance to meet people as if alone.

I was immediately addressed by a local who informed me that I was in his regular bar stool. Given its location, I told him that if we were in RVA, it would almost certainly be MY stool, given its position at the bar. He graciously agreed to let me stay in it if I'd give him my attention for a while.

As luck would have it, he's a local restaurant owner who moved here and found the beach vibe too appealing to go back, even after years of living all over the country in major cities and loving urban life. His restaurant here is over ten years old, although I wasn't familiar with it, being on one of the northern beaches which I don't frequent. His business card describes him as "Head Asshole," a title sure to elicit a smile from many a restaurant worker.

He came on strong, inviting me to his restaurant for dinner tomorrow (sans Thing 3, natch) and even suggesting he send the restaurant "car" for me so that I could indulge without having to drive home. Obviously beach restaurant owners have additional enticements in their bag of tricks should they meet someone they want to impress.

I teased the guy about meeting him in a restaurant other than his own, but he assured me that OB is his favorite beach bar precisely because it gets him out of his own business. That I could understand. Besides, would a restaurant owner really want to hit on his own customer? Check that; I know personally from a recent experience at home that it does happen.

Yankee women of yore might have had their gender battles, but in my humble experience, gender skirmishes continue, if of a different sort. Luckily, the playing field is so much more level today for us Yankee types.