Cigars and mojitos

While Latifah and I sipped our margaritas, Sass hungrily eyed the Cuban restaurant across the parking lot, La Guagua. She drooled at the thought of Cuban cigars. After we polished off our second margarita, we headed across the street.

At the bar, we met Dennis. He had a twinkle in his eye and a mojito in his hand. We ordered a round and joined him. He spoke about as much English as we spoke Spanish so we got along well.
If you've ever had mojitos made with mint from those Harris Teeter packages, you're wasting your time. Carlos, the bartender, pulled out a shoebox-size container of fresh mint leaves. I started grinning. When he mixed the mojitos, he ground the leaves in the glass. Oh my goodness. We sucked the first one down like it was water. He had our next round prepped and ready.

We peppered Dennis, who seemed to be a regular, Carlos and the other staffers with questions about where to hang. We cracked opened their humidor and bought cigars. It was a Tuesday night and we had the place to ourselves. A waiter asked me if I liked rap music. He said he liked .50 Cent and Tupac. I pulled out my iPod and let him listen to "It's Goin' Down" by Yung Joc and "Poppin' My Collar" by Three 6 Mafia. I didn't bring cables to run my iPod through their stereo, but the waiter turned off the Cuban music and put on some .50 and Bob Marley.

I sipped my mojito, smoked my cigar and knew it was going to be a good week.

Guess who we saw

After eating dinner at La Cocina de Lena in San Jose near our hotel, we headed to Plaza Itskatzu in Escazu. It has high-end shoppes and restaurants about 15 minutes away from the capital city of San Jose. Restaurants included Hooters and Outback Steakhouse. I know this sounds crazy, but by Saturday after a week of rice and beans, I was actually salivating over some Hooters chicken wings, but I'll save that story for later.

We stopped at Restuarante Mundo and ran into a dude from Charlotte. No lie. His name is Toby McGarry and you might remember him from his days at Phat Burrito when it first opened. Well, he's now a part-owner of Mundo. Think of Cosmos' vibe in a smaller space.

After leaving Charlotte, McGarry said he bounced around the world at different restaurants and then landed in Costa Rica. He still has a house with his sister in Charlotte. We arrived Tuesday, two days before the grand opening of Mundo. Since we were heading to Quepos the next day, we promised to return to Mundo later that week.

Next we headed to Mas Tikila. It was happy hour, which meant half-priced margaritas. That's what I'm talking about. We had a few drinks there and I met an American who used to play basketball in Costa Rica. He told us the place to party was Friends in El Pueblo, about 15 minutes away. It was ladies' night.

But first mojitos...

I'm addicted

My first real trip out of the country was Costa Rica last week. I went to Cozumel, Mexico, on a cruise, but one day in a tourist town doesn't count.

Costa Rica was the real deal - six days with an SUV, a full tank of gas and two friends who spoke little Spanish. Winding through the mountains, down neighborhood streets, past churches and strips of stores, we got lost more times than I can remember. We stopped every few miles to make sure we were going the right way. Sometimes we were. Often we weren't.

I can't wait to fumble my way through another city in a land far, far away. Interacting with the people gave me an even better appreciation for the challenges immigrants and tourists face here. Luckily, most Costa Ricans were patient with our horrible Spanish and taught us a few words as well. Borracha (drunk), goma (hung over) and pica flor (player pimp). (You'll learn why we needed to know those words in other blog entries.)

We visited San Jose, the capital, and Quepos and Manuel Antonio, about three hours south on the Pacific coast. We could barely drive through the mountains without pulling over and snapping pictures of the valleys below.

My friend Sass wanted to stop at every fruit stand. Latifah was in search of restaurants that served whole fish fried or grilled. I wanted to find the party. We did those things and more.

This trip will be my first of a lifetime of annual trips overseas. My goal is to do outdoor adventures and find the best parties.

Have you traveled internationally? If so, what's your favorite party city and what's the name of the bar?

Headed to the beach

I'm in Costa Rica until June 18 so I won't be blogging this week. I plan to return with lots of stories -- some appropriate for the newspaper and hopefully way more that aren't.

Holla'

R men with painted nails sexy?

I was at the Spot last week watching rapper Wolly Vinyl perform when I noticed he painted a couple of fingernails black. I'd never seen rapper with painted fingernails and I thought it was kinda cute. Vinyl is the second guy I know outside of the rock/goth world who paints one or two nails. The other is poet Maze Forever.

So, I'm wondering for the ladies, would you date a guy with painted nails and are there rules to men painting their nails? Can they only paint one or two nails and is it okay if the polish is chipped? Can they paint their nails any color or is black the only appropriate hue?

I always get wet

I don’t know what’s up, but every time I go to a Vanilla Ice show I get soaked. When he performed at Amos’ Southend a few years ago, a chick spilled beer down my shirt. Last night at ML, a new nightclub in Concord, Vanilla sprayed me.

I’m taking pictures near the stage when the rapper-turned-rocker empties water from his bottle onto the crowd. It wasn’t a one-time thing. He had a case of water.

Here’s my night: I approach the stage, snap some shots of Ice then try to duck before he throws water on the audience. I’m not sure what was worse, wiping off my camera and watch (neither were water-resistant) every few minutes or watching guys sprint to get the bottles Ice tossed on the floor. I mean come on, it’s Vanilla Ice. What are you going to do, show the water bottle to your friends and say Vanilla Ice touched it? Please.

If that wasn’t bad enough, I got elbowed in the jaw. I wasn’t paying attention and once again I ended up in the middle of a mosh pit. Although, this wasn’t the typical hardcore punk mosh like you’d see at the Milestone. I like those guys, they’re into the music and moshing is a way to express their love for the artist. The moshers at ML acted like they had something to prove. They were walking around poking their chests out as if to say, “Who wants some?” That was corny and besides, who moshes to Vanilla Ice?

Ice was animated, but if you went expecting a rap show you would have been disappointed. He did a hardcore rock set and threw in “Ice Ice Baby” and a couple of other rap songs to please his old school fans. He gave fans just enough rap to get a couple of people breakdancing so that was cool.

I interviewed him afterwards, and he was surprisingly nice. I asked him what was up with throwing water. He said he cools the crowd off. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that there were only a couple of hundred people there so overheating wasn’t a problem. To hear my full interview with him log on to the Paid to Party For Your Ear on Wednesday.

A new spot

A new spot
The Vanilla Ice show was my first time at ML, which is part of a Mexican restaurant about five miles past Lowe’s Motor Speedway in Concord. It’s a hike getting out there, but for the right act, it’s worth the drive.

The place is huge with a large dance floor, a raised stage and a booming sound system. It’s perfect for rock, metal and reggae acts. There’s seating around the main dance floor and a projector screen. The capacity is 1,500. They only had one bar open, which is all they needed for the crowd of about 200 people on Thursday. If they ever have a show that draws a capacity crowd, they’re going to need another bar and some beer tubs. They will also need more parking.

The manager Jose moved here from Las Vegas about three months ago. He has a lot of big ideas about who he wants to bring to the club and what he wants to do with the space. He’s energetic and is working with Red Tottle, formerly of the Beat radio station. With his energy and her connections, they should be able to make some things happen. Jose wants to bring Pink, Three Six Mafia and My Chemical Romance. If he can pull it off I’ll be there. We’ll see.

What's happening in the clubs

Club owners have been moving and shaking for the last couple of weeks.
Thing have finally calmed down at the former home of the Steeple at Central and Pecan. It’s newest owners and management group re-opened it as The Spot, formerly the Goblin, this past weekend.
Former Room owner Mike Morelli is booking acts and he relaunched the Monday night, hip-hop open mic from the Room. They will also have Metal Matinee on Sundays. I have to give the new crew credit for adding the personality that’s been missing since Steeple closed. I hope they did a sage burn to kill the negative energy.
Notik 1 did graffiti on several walls. It’s is a mix of hip-hop style stuff as well as video games characters. Ms. Pacman chases Pacman along the walls of the video game room. They have Space Invaders. Yay!
Upstairs is still under renovation. It’s going to be a lounge with a board game room that will include an Xbox.
Not angry, but still has ales
The original owners of Angry Ale’s in Charlotte are out of here. They sold the one on Montford Drive to Charlotte bar scene newcomers Tom and Mike Henson. Picasso’s owner Don Burgoon bought Angry Ale’s uptown and will re-open it as Picasso’s in about a month.
After the disastrous canceling of the Roots show at the last minute, Amos’ Southend is back and bigger. The club re-opens with Sister Hazel tonight. Raheem DeVaughn is June 29 and PM Dawn on June 30.
I’m glad to have Amos’ back. Now, that Amos’ is bigger. What kind of acts would you like to see there? They were mostly a cover band bar before, but more space means infinite potential.

They got me good

I’m trying to convince my girl to order some chicken wings and a movie, but she insists on going out to dinner and meeting a couple of friends for drinks. It’s a Thursday night and I’m heading to Raleigh on Friday. I flew in from Maryland on Wednesday. I partied so hard while at home that I caught a cold. Staying in Thursday would have made my mama proud.
But, we head to Cans.
Walking downstairs to the lounge, I see not simply two friends, but at least a dozen of my closest peeps.
Surprise!
They got me good. A surprise birthday party was the last thing I expected. My girl and my friends hooked it up, from Constantine getting us the spot in Cans to Sass getting the food at her aunt’s restaurant Thai Marlai.
We hung out there eating, drinking and swapping stories for about four hours. Dee Dee told the story about the time I hitchhiked in Savannah for St. Patrick’s Day. We had several T.M.I moments.
My friends gave gifts that reminded them of me. I got underwear made of candy from Ramona, a jockstrap and water bottle from Lamont, a massage from Crystal, a protest elephant keychain from C-Money, a gift card for the ABC store from Jermaine (I didn’t know they had those) and I’m getting a bottle of Patron from Dee Dee. (My friends know me so well)
My girl gave me a custom-made ring by Day. It’s shaped like a raccoon. (That’s a story for another day.)
After living here for a dozen years, I still call Maryland home, but after Thursday, Charlotte is feeling a lot more like Maryland. It reminded me that I’ve surrounded myself with good people, and I’m thankful.
I have to give shout-outs, thanks to – my girl, the Brunch Crew, my Observer family, my UBU folks, my drinking buddies and the folks at Cans – for making my 35th birthday unforgettable.

Put on a red light...

We were heading to the elevator inside Steve’s Bar Room on Connecticut Avenue, when the Police’s “Roxanne” blasted over the stereo. The six of us jumped out of the elevator and ran to the dancefloor.

We danced together and sang at the top of our lungs. Angie pretended her hand was a mike and did duets with everyone singing, “…put on a red light, put on a red light.”

By the time we were done, club owner Steve liked our routine so much he bought us a round of champagne with a cherry in each glass. Steve’s is my kind of place, posh, but not stuffy. It has a flat screen TV in the main area and long bar. There’s also a back area where you can get away. The vibe there was more relaxed than Indebleu. On this Sunday, the DJ played good ’80s music such as “Roxanne.” www.stevesbarroom.com

Mojito mojo

If my friend Angie had told me the mojito was going to cost $15, I wouldn’t have ordered it. I would have also missed out on one of the yummiest drinks ever – a blackberry mojito at Washington’s Indebleu.

Indebleu was the first Washington stop of my night on the town with Renee, Angie and Kecia on Sunday. Kecia’s girl rented a limo to celebrate her birthday so we went barhopping in D.C.

Angie raved about Indebleu’s blackberry mojito. We still haven't figured out what was in it, but we're sure about real blackberries and mint. The drink was so good that Angie and Renee finished their drinks and then went around drinking everyone else's behind their backs. At one point, Renee threatened to suck her ice cubes.

Indebleu is a one-drink stop. It’s too stuffy for my taste, but the music was downtempo soulful house. Indebleu is a fine dining restaurant with a lounge and bar downstairs, and dining upstairs. The place is phat. We couldn’t sit in the lounge because of a private party, but we peeked over the velvet rope. The custom sofas were vibrant oranges and red with throw pillows that complement the wooden tables and stools. If you go, stop by the bathroom. The sinks are concrete slabs with cool faucets. www.bleu.com/indebleu/

Back at Black Gay Pride

In my college and post college years, I looked forward to Black Gay Pride in D.C. It was Memorial Day weekend and my birthday weekend. It was my four days to hang with my folks during the day and kick it hard at night with my girl Lori.
I haven’t gone to Pride in the last couple of years though because the partiers seemed to get younger and younger and I have less patience for long lines and high cover charges. This year, I went since my girlfriend hadn’t gone in almost a decade.
Friday night felt like old times. We went to Fur nightclub and there was no line. The crowd was a good mix of young and old with a little eye candy. Go-go dancers grooved on the stage, which was the VIP area and two bars made the wait for cocktails short.
The music was a decent mix of hip-hop and old school go-go. I caught up with an old buddy I used to party with in Columbia, S.C., and one I hung with in D.C. back in the ’90s. My girl and I danced the night away. Other than a spilled drink on my girl’s shirt, the night was all good.
Saturday was a different story.
Something told me to stay home that night. I was tired after celebrating my brother’s college graduation with my family, but I have a hard time resisting a party. At first, everything at the Tunnel nightclub was gravy. We arrived about 11:30 p.m. and the club wasn’t too congested. Again, the crowd was ages. The only problem was the music. It sounded as if the subwoofer was going bad, but I’m not sure if that was worse or the half-hour impromptu comedy routine by the MCs. They killed time while technicians worked on the sound, but they also killed my mood.
By the time they decided to move us from the main dancefloor to a backroom, I was ready to go.
On Sunday, we went to the Black Gay Pride Festival at 9th and H Street. Initially, I was excited that the main event moved back outdoors after years inside the MCI Convention Center. Years ago, the festival was at Banneker Field near Howard University, but rainouts prompted organizers to move it inside.
I hoped the move outside would make the festival like old times with men walking around in bikinis and couples and friends sitting on blankets people-watching. It wasn’t. The new location was a parking lot and it was so hot even the devil would’ve asked for an ice cube.
Did you got to D.C. this weekend? If so, what did you think?

Gas prices are killing me

The other night, I was seriously debating whether I wanted to go to Yahzarah's performance at the Jazz Cafe because the jazz club was so far from my house. The way gas prices are my barhopping radius is seriously reduced. I live off Central Avenue, so I prefer to party in the uptown area rather than drive further out.

I ride my motorcycle to clubs and bars way more than I have in past years. I don't think I'm the only one sticking closer to home. I was talking to promoter John Lineberger at Taste of the Nation about how the party business. He said this spring was slower than usual and he too wondered if higher gas prices, along with this unseasonable weather, kept people from going out as much.

Here's my question, have higher gas prices changed your partying habits? If so, how?

Finally caught up on "24"

I was sitting in Scooter's restaurant, in Elkridge, MD, for happy hour with my friend Angie when the smell of steamed crabs called me. I was trying to hold off buying any crabs because my parents always buy crabs for my birthday. Sitting there talking with my girls, drinking a pitcher beer and watching platters and platters of crabs go into the restaurant.
I couldn't take it anymore; I ordered two dozen with six less salty because my dad can't eat a lot of salt. When I got home, my dad and I spread out the newspaper, cracked open of couple of beers and had a four-hour "24" marathon. I'd missed the last two weeks and the season finale so I brought the tapes home.
As I predicted, the women saved the day. Mad props for the First Lady and Chloe. Both of them turned on that sexual charm to get the men to do what they needed. Men can be so gullible.
I loved how Jack trapped the President in the end. Planting the bug on the pen and knowing the First Lady would flip was brilliant. Here's my question, do you think the First Lady and Jack were cahoots the whole time or do you think Jack was counting on the First Lady confronting her husband. Also, what do you think is going to happen next season?

Meet Tent City's Viking

Tent City is a group of friends who live in upstate New York and Concord. They've been coming to the races for years and swear they have the best view. You know I couldn't hang out without finding the wild folks.

Viking says his friends challenged him to tackle a trashcan. Of course, he accepted the challenge.

Meet Boyd at Tent City

He was dropped off by a space ship. That's why he's doing what he was doing at Tent City in Turn 3 and 4. I don't exactly know what he was doing.

Body surfing for the Peppers

The police busted through the crowd during the Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Dani California." I looked around, wondering who was fighting. Then I saw it. A set of legs bobbled through the air.

Body surfing and the Red Hot Chili Peppers during the Nextel All-Star Race, who would've thought it was possible. The four-song, 15-minute set was part of NASCAR's continuing effort to make the sport hipper. The show was the first time band performed at a sporting event and the first time NASCAR scheduled a performance during a race. The Peppers performed at about 11 p.m. between the first and second race segments. Fans lined up in front of the stage at Turn 1 by 9 p.m. Giant screens broadcast the show for the people sitting in the grandstands.

Fans jumping, shaking fists and surfing made the sprawling grassy area feel as intimate as Tremont Music Hall.

Bleep the race

I didn't say it. It was a Red Hot Chili Pepper fan. The band was into its last song and the cars starting filing out.
"They're still racing," One fan said. "Isn't that crazy?"
"F the race," his friend replied and started dancing.


The Chili Peppers' four-song set got mixed reaction from fans on Saturday. Many walked away praising it with curse words. A few were disappointed that it was four songs for about 15 minutes. I haven't seen the Chili Peppers' live before and I liked the live version of "Dani California" way better than the album.

Hanging in the inflield

Its cuties and crazy action. If you hang out in the infield, you've go to dodge golf carts and all kinds of people telling you "MOVE," "WATCH OUT."

It's sensory overload out here and it's great.

P2P Goes to the All Star race

I have spent the last 45 minutes walking around with my mouth wide open. I'm stopping random people and asking, what's going on.

I'm hanging out in the pit crew area at the Nextel All-Star race and loving it. It's constant motion. Guys in fancy jump suits are taking lug nuts off rims that aren't on cars. Other men are marking tires with markers. One guy is stretching, I mean really stretching and simulating changing a tire.

Whoa!

When I got the call from Alan Taylor communications to go see the Red Hot Chili Pepper at the All-Star race, I figured I'd dip in, shoot a few wild fans, write about the concert and bounce.

I've been to a couple of races and I hadn't been impressed long enough to want to hang out for long, but Jess Hunter with Alan Taylor worked some magic and got the NASCAR folks to hook me up with passes for the infield, the garage area and pit row.

I have a whole level of new respect for the sport, but I can never watch another race from the grandstand. I need to be on the field where the action is. I'm pumped. I once changed my tire when I had a flat on I-485. I felt so powerful I ate a steak and potato when I got home.

Imagine what'd I'd eat if I was on a pit crew. Somebody give me a thingy to take lug nuts off, I want to change a tire.