A Toast to the Triangle Teams

The accidental hump day, an evening in three scenes.

Scene one in which an invitation last night for a drink tonight had been accepted when a quick check of my calendar showed absolutely nothing on the books.

Fast forward to 10:50 this morning, ten minutes after getting up, when I get an invitation to something called "The Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road" and immediately sense that I must be there.

Our cocktail hour is moved up to accommodate my ephemera and we meet at Lemaire for Simonet Blanc de Blanc and so that I can hear about the state of her love life, the good, bad and ugly.

When my advice is solicited, I suggest a full frontal attack using the truth to let her beloved know what's bothering her.

While it seems unlikely she'll take my advice, she at least acknowledges its value.

Proceed to scene two, in which I prove that while I'm not an urban planner, I can play one with neighbors.

Tonight is the first of four sessions held at Gallery 5 to brainstorm what to do with the triangle at Brook and Adams in Jackson Ward, an island neither inviting nor usable (except to skateboarders), in part due to the weird traffic tearing around it.

Urban studies graduate student Josh Son has convened the group of neighbors and people who work in the neighborhood to help him develop ideas for making that corner of Brook Road more of an asset to  the ward.

Wisely, he has arranged for food so we begin with fried chicken and dill potato salad from Saison, a chance to meet people while chewing with our mouths full.

My favorite neighborhood couple is there and we meet another couple, much younger, who share tantalizing tales of the view they have into nearby apartments. There are stories of hot tubs and sculpture and few curtains. Our group has formed itself.

From the evening's director, Josh, we hear about Brook Road's history as a turnpike from the farms of the counties into the big city, seeing old photographs that document this past, followed by photos of similar revitalization projects in places like Philly and Brooklyn.

He shows us a 45-minute condensed video of the triangle, a blur of pedestrian, bike and speeding car traffic, a testament to the need for change in this corner of the 'hood.

Thus inspired, we break into our groups to take a field trip to the triangle with two designated artists and two designated writers (no points for guessing which one I was).

On site with clipboards, paper and pencils, we note what exists there now, what the challenges are and what solutions we imagine to make this a more habitable space.

With no constraints, we talk big and imagine bigger.

We see terraced steps on all three sides providing seating under the large, old oak tree in the center of the triangle.

Our vision includes a circular stone bench around the tree once low-branch pruning is done and up-lighting to highlight what is undoubtedly the largest tree on Broad Street from Belvidere to MCV.

There would be flower gardens in large containers in two of the corners for color and contemplation.

We want a local sculptor to create a piece that incorporates a fountain where people could fill water bottles, like the ones they have in Europe.

Emboldened, we decide that the stretch of Brook Road next to the triangle needs to be closed to vehicular traffic to create a piazza for tables, chairs and umbrellas (and, as a bonus, create three additional parking spaces on Broad) so people could bring food, books or coffee and have a place to linger.

We see Max's on Broad putting cafe tables on the stretch of sidewalk next to the restaurant. New crosswalks and handicapped access ramps so that everyone can safely get to and use the space.

As we're busily discussing all this, Max's owner approaches us, clearly curious about what we're up to.

My friend warns me not to tell him because he'll disapprove, but I share anyway, explaining that his valet parking will have to move elsewhere and laying out the whole cafe culture we've imagined for this area.

He's immediately on board with the idea of closing Brook right there and having a pedestrian area with tables separate from his own.

When we return to Gallery 5, it is to hear each of the six groups' plans for re-developing Brook.

Our little group, the "corner collective" as we've dubbed ourselves, is appalled when two of the groups' plans begin by taking down the oak tree.

Almost in unison, the five of us protest, insisting we will chain ourselves to the oak before we let it be taken down. We are nothing if not passionate.

Our group presents our ideas and the remaining groups theirs, including one who plainly said that our idea for terraced steps to provide seating is an outstanding one.

All of a sudden, two hours have passed and we are at the end of tonight's session. The only thing left is to sign up for which arena - connectivity, shade/light, greenery, gathering- we want to work on next week as the plans are further refined and developed.

So while the evening should be over, it isn't.

A guy joins our group from another and soon we are discussing ideas for the triangle again. That segues into talk of the neighborhood and who's eaten where and how they liked it.

Which leads us to scene three, wherein I mention it's pupusa night at Saison and the Irish Catholic suggests the four of us adjourn there to see what kind of pupusas are on the menu tonight.

Mushroom with queso fresca and pork belly with guasano, that's what.

It matters not to me, since my standard response is always that I'll take one of each.

While we're all eating crispy, warm pupusas, we talk about the neighborhood, how we were attracted to its central location and architecture, about the house one of us is building on Leigh Street, about the old house across the street once owned by one of our friends and for years used as a studio for artists.

Everyone has a story about eating at Porkchops and Grits with gospel music playing. A couple of us rave about Lucy's, lunch and dinner. To a person, everyone is counting the days until Saison's market opens.

The Irishman has an extra ticket for Kathleen Madigan at UR Saturday night and invites me along but I have plans. The couple asks for a suggestion for a Perly's breakfast replacement and happy hour recommendations and I oblige with both. The bartender asks if anyone's been to Rogue Gentleman and what they thought.

Eventually the two women at the end of the bar, also J-Ward residents, can't stand it and join in, telling us where they live and why they love it.

They are bummed at having missed the meeting, at least until we tell them there are three more in which they can participate. With three other neighborhood restaurants providing food. And no telling how many new people they might meet.

And if you're the gregarious sort, the afterparty alone is worth the community service.

That Was Then

According to one of the out-of-towners, we were "raging on a Wednesday night."

But we got things rolling with Popeye and Olive Oil.

The Anderson Gallery's happy hour this week featured classic cartoons along with the usual wine and beer.

We were no fools; we scored a spot on the banquette and settled in to watch the 1939 "Aladdin and his Wonderful Lamp," part of the fabulous Fleischer folio.

Because it was in Technicolor, we got to see just how green every can of spinach Popeye opened was. And don't even get me started on seeing Olive in harem pants.

Next came "Gopher Spinach" from 1954 and not nearly as interestingly animated.

It did feature a classic cartoon moment when  Popeye was chasing the spinach-eating gopher with a lawn mower.

The gopher threw a barrel of nails into the mower's path and they spit out the back of the mower, nailing Popeye to the nearby barn wall with their force.

They'd saved the best for last: "Betty Boop: A Song a Day" was about Betty's animal hospital.

It was like a catalog of animals, each with an appropriate illness tag on its sickbed.

Herring, Condition: pickled.

Giraffe: Condition: pain in the neck.

You get the idea.

As cute as Betty looked in her nurse's uniform, it wasn't enough to stop the animals' pain and she called in Professor Grampy to sing and dance so everyone felt better.

The funniest part was we were told that that was the only Betty Boop film suitable for the family audience the Anderson was expecting tonight.

Seems that most Boop shorts feature her in a skimpy dress and usually wiggling seductively.

And while it was okay to show kids vampy, scantily-clad cartoon characters in 1936, we're a bit more circumspect in 2012.

You gotta give the Anderson Gallery credit for creativity; a happy hour of vintage cartoons is a terrific way to start a Wednesday.

Once that fun ended, we went to Xtra's Cafe in Carytown to get jacked up on some cheap champagne (a la Scissor Sisters) and eat dinner.

Naturally on an evening headed into the mid-seventies, the balcony was full, so we did bar time.

The Simonet Blanc de Blanc Brut was cold (if poured in wine glasses rather than flutes), the Nantucket Nexus salad (mesclun, cranberries, Gorgonzola, Granny Smith apples, cucumbers, pecans and bacon) full of complementary flavors and the music just good enough (XX, Bon Iver and extra points for Youth Group).

All around us were other bubbles drinkers laughing and talking more loudly as the night wore on.

We went with the house-made dessert of the day, Mexican chocolate cookies with Kahlua ice cream, especially good when the ice cream was spread on the crumbly cookies.

Properly sated, we headed out to music at, of all places, Bogart's.

Playing tonight was a Jacksonville duo called Folk is People. They're in the middle of an East Coast tour promoting their EP, headed to Boston tomorrow night.

I don't envy them that drive.

But I'd done my online research and I not only liked their sound, but their claim to deliver good looks and offensive banter.

Truth be told, I often aim for the same.

We took a front table, the better to hear them (the bar crowd wasn't as attentive as they could have been at times), and admire their good looks.

Banjo in hand, Stacey cleared up a few things immediately.

"We're not brother and sister and we don't do it," she deadpanned. "We're just in a band."

I'd have to say that that was more informative than offensive.

"Here's a song we started doing yesterday," she said before the lovely "Tell Me Love."

Both Stacey and Rick had strong voices and with their handful of songs, continued to impress.

After reminding us of our midweek raging tonight, they did the Tom Petty (a fellow Floridian) cover "Yer So Bad."

But not me, baby, I've got you to save me
Oh, yer so bad, best thing I ever had
In a world gone mad, yer so bad

Rick's vocal take on Petty was spot on, giving the phrasing the Petty nod but also making it his own.

The crowd ate it up and Rick acknowledged, "It's tricky with Petty. People just keep wanting more. Alright then, this song is not as good. It's called 'Gift Horse."

Depending on your Petty fandom, it was damn fine, though.

Rick stuck to guitar while Stacey played banjo, guitar (but not Rick's, she made clear), mandolin and mouth harp.

Considering the two have only been playing together for ten months, their set was satisfying and strong.

From "Becoming Unbecoming" to "Ships and Shades," we were treated to lots of stringed instruments, harmonies and well-written songs.

One, two, three
You said you loved me
But you just wanted the company

Oh, I wanted the company alright.

But I also wanted the distinct pleasure of hearing an out-of-town band woo me with their sound tonight.

And as good-looking as they were, I'd have gotten their CD even if they'd been ugly.

In a world gone mad, I'm a sucker for well-executed folk rock raging on a Wednesday night.

Well, that and offensive banter.