Shortly before graduating from USM and becoming a tech writer, I wrote some features for the local alt weekly, the Portland Phoenix. I wrote this story for the August 26, 2005 issue. The story was part if a student-centered insert that didn’t make it onto the paper’s website, but by way of proof, this letter to the editor did comment on my story the next week (http://www.portlandphoenix.com/features/letters/documents/04938203.asp).
A romantic quest
Local student locates food, misplaces condoms
For reasons I don’t care to explain, I found myself one recent late evening in desperate need of a condom (or three). I hadn’t had the foresight to mass my own stockpile, and there I was, my long cold war suddenly turned hotter than hot. Thus did I strike out into the Old Port to secure the sheaths. This proved difficult, but the search took me through some of Portland’s best late-night establishments that offer something other than alcohol.
I started on Congress Street, where I live, and entered Strange Maine, an eclectic local store that stocks used books, movies, video games, and other dusty curiosities. The shop is open until midnight on the weekends, and often hosts music and art events. It’s a good place for the underaged crowd, who complain so often that “nothing ever happens.” When I arrived around 10:30 pm, a posse of young teenagers went about breaking down a stack of sound gear, swarming like ants around a grasshopper carcass. The night’s band: Modern Syndrome. “They’re all, like, 13,” said Michael Connor, a local illustrator who works at the shop. I glanced at the teenagers — children, really — and leaned in close. “Do you guys sell condoms?” I asked.
“No,” he replied. “We don’t sell condoms.” I beat my hasty retreat, hoping no one else had heard me.
My next stop was the Purple Caterpillar, the hoookah bar located next door to the Movies on Exchange Street. I stepped over young people in various states of repose, including a pretty girl in a China dress draped over a low couch directly in front of the glass doors. Since opening nine months ago, this comfy den of cushions and low tables has done a booming business in the emerging college fad of smoking flavored tobacco from the traditional middle-eastern devices. The tobacco, called Shisha or Argileh, is legal for anyone aged 18 years or older and, I’m told, produces a mild buzz that’s almost as potent as weed. For $10, the den’s proprietors will prepare a hookah with the flavor of tobacco you’ve chosen from a handwritten menu and bring it to your table. A single hookah is good for four or more people.
I inched past grinning and lolling smokers, past the Jack Kerouak quotes scrawled on the walls, and I drew near to Jessica Mislek, who co-owns the shop and is most often seen serving customers. She told me the tobacco comes from Saudi Arabia and Jordan, while the pipes are imported from Egypt. But there were no condoms of any provenance available at the Purple Caterpillar, so I paid my polite farewell to all of those hooded smiles, and I moved on.
Directly across from the Purple Caterpillar on Exchange Street is Java Net Cafe, a coffee shop that provides computers and Internet access to its patrons. They were just closing, as it was 11 pm. I was politely informed that no condoms were available here, either.
While I do prefer to patronize local establishments, Dunkin’ Donuts, on Fore Street, next to Bull Feeney’s, bears the laurels for late-night coffee in the Old Port, closing at midnight on Friday and Saturday. After ordering my coffee, I asked the smartly uniformed young men if they could offer me any condoms. It turns out you can’t buy condoms at Dunkin’ Donuts. They do serve ice cream until closing time, though.
This search, this condom quest, had my knees wobbling and my stomach growling. I found myself in front of Granny’s Burritos on 420 Fore Street. At Granny’s, stylin’ bohemians prepare your burrito or quesadilla behind an unpretentious plywood counter, and you eat at the simple picnic tables that line the walls. Granny’s is open until midnight. The restaurant features a bar and more traditional waitress-driven sit-down eating upstairs, and live music almost every day. As it stands, though, Bill’s Pizza on Commercial Street (open until 2 am) has the post-closing-time niche cornered. I asked Granny’s owner Chris Godin why so few places are open late in the Old Port, considering all the people enthusiastically stomping around full of alcohol and so often hungry. He replied that this is exactly the problem.
“We close at midnight because after that it gets weird,” he said. “We tried late night here and it was a fucking nightmare.” By way of explanation, he told the story of six very loud and drunken men who, very early one morning, darkened his doorway, debating the relative merits of burritos versus pizza. “I used the Jedi mind trick on them,” Godin said. He demonstrated with a wave of his hand. “You don’t want burritos.” The men eventually moved on.
Godin at first celebrated the efficacy of the Light side of the force, but then had an epiphany: “I’m a business owner, and I’m excited I just lost six customers.” Now, despite the milling crowds of hungry and directionless drunks outside, the lock at Granny’s turns at midnight. You can’t blame the man — after myself doing the stumbling, another voracious drunk, out of the bars into Bill’s Pizza a week prior, I witnessed the following encounter outside Bill’s: Two men fell to the pavement together, enthusiastically swinging fists into one other’s heads. Close by, a street performer responded to the crowd’s surprised and amused comments by removing a short club from his guitar case and waving it at us.
“If anyone comes near me, I have this!” He shouted.
Despite this, and contrary to the more hysterical police chiefs among us, the Old Port is not really a dangerous place. You can get into a fight in lots of places, including the Old Port, if you go out looking for one. I wasn’t looking for a fight, I told Godin. I was looking for love.
“You should try the Corner Store [actual name: City Beverage],” said Brandy Botting, who was taking orders and preparing food behind the Granny’s counter. “I think they sell condoms.”
Of course! The Corner Store (actual name: City Beverage)! Located on the corner of Market Street and Fore Street, it occupies the perfect spot for hungry or amorous bar-hoppers. The aptly-named store (if it were actually named the Corner Store) serves the usual assortment of junk food and soft drinks, and yes, my objective: condoms!
“It’s 99 cents for one, and $2.99 for a three-pack,” said Jason King, who has worked nights at the store for seven months. He says the drunks are occasionally a problem, but he hasn’t had any serious encounters. “You gotta be assertive,” he said.
So soothed, fed, and wired, I returned home, bearing forth my amorous cargo to my lady, finding her resolutely asleep for the rest of the night. You might call her my sleeping beauty. Next time I’ll make sure my arsenal is well stocked. But if I ever find myself in the Old Port suffering from any of my most base cravings, I’ll know where to turn.
For those looking to wine and dine a late-night and last-minute paramour, the best option is to have Chinese or Italian cuisine brought directly to your love nest. My favorite restaurants on these fronts are Papa John’s — again, a chain, but open until 3 am on Fridays and Saturdays — and the Wok Inn, delivering fast and sufficient Chinese fodder until 2 am on the same nights.
If you have wheels and you haven’t been drinking, there are places open 24 hours a day to satisfy the pangs of hunger after those waves of lust have subsided. The local Denny’s is located on outer Congress Street, and is a veritable Mecca for bored underage college students looking for a place to hang out in the deep of the night. Lesser known, but equally promising are the Tim Horton’s locations in the Mill Creek Plaza in South Portland and Main Street in Westbrook. The imported Canadian chain is akin to taking a Dunkin’ Donuts and a Subway and smashing them together — and they’ll prepare fresh donuts and sandwiches for you at any hour of the day.
Any later than that, and you’re talking breakfast joints, which is a whole different story. But I’ll offer one name: Marcy’s. They open really early.
Bronson feature stories feature, journalism, portland phoenix
