Blog tourists coming to Youngstown!

(638 words)

I’m hosting an office warming party Wednesday after nearly nine months because the office has been a bit chilly lately.

Yes, my trusty little space heater accomplishes the same thing but I’m feeling social and there’s a risk of electrical fire when you pour beer into a functioning space heater.

And that’s a mistake you make just once!

Plus, tomorrow starts the tourist season in Youngstown. I have two blog tourists coming all the way from Nadine’s Bar on Pittsburgh’s South Side to visit.

It’s confusing to anyone not from Latrobe when I say I live in Youngstown. They think we live in Ohio.

Nope. This Youngstown is a one-stop light bedroom community to those who commute 1.1 miles to bustling Latrobe proper, sort of what Queens is to Manhattan. Another key difference: unlike the City That Never Sleeps, parts of Latrobe seem to have been sound asleep since 1958.

But we love it here. It’s why I’m always promoting Latrobe, pop. 8,338, in general and today Youngstown, pop. 320, in particular.

Youngstown is hoppin’!

Sure, in some ways, it falls 66 percent short of having all the criteria of being an actual town, which in the words of one of my attorney buddies is “one store, one whore and one barber.”

We have a store and I imagine we have at least one whore, although she’s yet to introduce herself — and there’s a lot of inherent charm in any town where the whores are shy.

And we have no barber, which thanks to near-universal male pattern baldness isn’t as great a grooming crisis as you’d imagine.

What we do have is seven distinct places to drink and dine.

And Youngstown has Arnold Palmer! Yes, Latrobe Country Club is actually in Youngstown, right down the street from Arnold Palmer Regional Airport, the Arnold Palmer Marriott SpringHill Suites and Arnold Palmer himself.

Right in town, there’s the popular Falbo’s Rainbow Inn family restaurant and tavern. Our kids love their spaghetti. We have the fireman’s club and last fall, the Youngstown Grille & Market opened. They’ve been a key addition, providing superior diner food, friendly staff and convenience store staples available at the front counter. 

And as of last month, Youngstown has a prestigious structure few other major metropolises enjoy.

We have our own Trump Towers!

The candidate has some ardent fans who are decorating our town with yuge “Make America Great Again!” posters. 

It’s controversial. Half our residents are supportive, the other half are left to speculate if the nearby security camera works or is dummy enough to allow scot-free sabotage.

Overseeing it all is my office on the third floor of the Tin Lizzy, the building that has history, great food and booze! Booze! Booze!

The building dates back to the 1750s and Arnold Palmer spent his infancy on the second floor.

It’s this kind of boosterism that just the other week drew my first two blog tourists — Earl and Greg — to Youngstown.

What are blog tourists?

They come to your bar, invite you down for drinks, buy your books and demand you accept money for entertaining them for free with the years of faithful blogging.

My kind of people!

We had such a great time I asked them to come back tomorrow.

“And this time,” I said, “bring more money!”

I was kidding. Really, it’s just fun making friends like that and is very gratifying to hear people enjoy the blog and the books so much.

So stop by tomorrow. Festivities commence at 4 p.m.

We can all enjoy a good giggle, some drinks, some good food. If you have too much to drink, you can stay at one of our fine hotels or crash on the floor.

Yes, here in tiny Youngstown, Pa., you can get it all.

All but a whore and a haircut.

Related …

Brushes with celebs & #TooCoolToSelfie (featuring Earl/Nadine’s!)

I’m loving cornhole! Who wants to join me!

Arnold Palmer gave me noogies on Monday

Jaffre’s opens today at Tin Lizzy!

Is the Tin Lizzy haunted?

Someone stole Buck’s book at Tin Lizzy

Someone stole Buck's book at Tin Lizzy

(795 words)

I figured at $16.95 my book was a real steal. I just never figured anyone would ever really steal it.

But that’s apparently what’s happened.

I guess that means my little morality play is backfiring.

See, Buck paid $20 for the book last week but we pretended he paid $50.

Buck owns the Tin Lizzy, which in a small town way is like saying Walt Disney owned Disney World.

People say the Tin Lizzy like it’s just one place. In fact, it’s six very distinct places under one roof.

There’s the Main Street bar where I spend most of my non-office time. It’s where Buck and the regulars cluster.

Then there’s the Rathskeller, a perfectly cool basement bar with foundation, fireplace and timbers that date back to 1780.

The second floor is Flappers, a 1920’s-themed martini bar. It’s very posh and intimate. When guests come to visit, I make sure we have at least two or three cocktails in there. In the summer, the adjoining balcony is very popular.

Also distinct are the Jaffre’s Italian Restaurant dining rooms on the main and second floors. They serve great food to the entire building.

So it’s quite a complex.

And up above it all overlooking the town’s only street light and just across the hall Westmoreland County’s only indoor cornhole court (link below) is my shabby little office.

It’s all perfectly cool. And just last week I confirmed Arnold Palmer was either born here or spent his first months here.

How cool is that?

I confess I’ve been reluctant to write about moving from my old place to the penthouse suite at the Tin Lizzy for fear it would be like a twice-married husband comparing his wives.

And, please don’t allow the wobbly analogy to cloud your perceptions of my marriage, but I must convey what an essential part of my daily existence a good bar is.

It’s been a very happy transition for me. I really enjoying being a part of this vibe.

And Buck’s always stopping by the office to insult me.

He tells me my hair’s a mess, or that I’ve worn the same flannel shirt three times in the past week, both of which are patently true so maybe he’s more observant than rude.

But after he hurts my feelings he always invites me downstairs for a drink, which always improves my mood. I always stay for three or four, so he’s a very shrewd businessman.

He likes to joke, too. That’s how he wound up pretending to pay $50 for a book someone eventually stole.

I underestimated interest in reading this satiric kind of book.

Heck, I underestimate interest in reading any kind of book.

But people are so far really liking “The Last Baby Boomer.” One guy bought nine copies and orders of three or four are becoming common. I never dreamed it would become a gift book.

Best so far? A Bridgeville woman recommended the book to her reading group and they bought 15. They invited me to come speak to them, which I happily agreed to do.

So I’m emboldened about the book’s prospects and am trying to conceive ways to gin up a lot of interest, in this case by using a man interested in drinking lots of gin.

When Buck said he wanted to buy the book, I said sure, but let’s conduct the transaction in the bar when it’s crowded.

“And let’s pretend you’re paying $50.”

He agreed, he said, as long as there was no way in hell he’d have to actually pay $50.

Deal.

And, boy, did we lay it on thick. We made the simple transaction seem like we were historic participants concluding the Louisiana Purchase negotiations.

It became in those few moments something more grand than a mere book. It was like literary Viagra or the cure for something itchy.

Alas, our little skit may have been too convincing because somebody stole Buck’s book.

“Yeah, I had it out upstairs and would stop and read a few pages, but I went by there about an hour ago and it was gone. I’d only read 10 pages.

Damn. I told him page 11 is when it really starts getting good!

I asked if he wouldn’t mind calling the police or the FBI to report the theft.

He declined.

I asked if we could do the whole thing over, again pretending a $20 was a $50.

He declined that, too.

He figures it’ll eventually turn up. He’s probably correct.

I fear he’ll soon report he found the book being used to prop up one of the restaurant’s dining room tables.

It’s a likely scenario.

Alas, the only thing more wobbly than the floors in this dear old building are my daffy bar analogies.

Related . . .

My new Tin Lizzy office

Jaffre’s opens today at Tin Lizzy!

Is the Tin Lizzy haunted?

My history of drinking at/near work

I’m loving cornhole! Who wants to join me?

My book is $20