Ron's View - Erie, Pennsylvania
The Erie journey began the morning after a decidedly uneventful nightlife scene in Scranton/Wilkes Barre. How this community of over 130,000 people can have such a dearth of nightspots is beyond my comprehension, but it did provide us a day to make the over 300 mile drive with unusually clear brain functions.
The most direct route between these 2 cities is U.S. Highway 6, a classic "Blue Highway" that runs from Providence, RI all the way to Bishop, CA, 50 miles from the Nevada border. The stretch we drove in Pennsylvania is designated as a scenic highway, and it started as advertised. Somehow it turned into a tedious run of small town speed traps, followed by many more like looking towns with like looking speed traps. I felt like the car was standing still, and this endless loop diorama of small towns kept approaching every 20 minutes just to break the boredom of the farmland in between.
Perhaps it was the frustration venting of the previous night's lack of fun, or maybe it was the anticipation of Erie's nightlife possibilities, but it was not a moment too soon that we turned onto State Road 97 and once again on U.S. 19 to get to Erie.
What a pleasant surprise Erie was! The SeaWolves play in a modern and pleasant park on East 10th Street, right near the downtown party district. The yard offers wonderful sightlines and amenities, and is built in the mold of many of the newer Minor League ballparks. I have 2 distinct memories from that evening...
1) We stopped in a bar (no surprise there!) and the bartender was a dead ringer, looks AND mannerisms, of Kramer from "Seinfeld". He provided plenty of laughs while "entertaining" his customers, and we got quite a buzz going. That got us hungry.
2) Normally we prefer the independent diners and restaurants for our food, but it was late and a McDonald's was nearby. Being a nice night, we sat on the curb outside the restaurant to consume our "99 cent heart attacks". I had stood my container of fries on the sidewalk while eating. When getting near the bottom, something didn't taste quite like a french fry. It turned out to be one of several ants that had entered through the slot in the bottom. At least I got my protein for the day!
The Erie journey began the morning after a decidedly uneventful nightlife scene in Scranton/Wilkes Barre. How this community of over 130,000 people can have such a dearth of nightspots is beyond my comprehension, but it did provide us a day to make the over 300 mile drive with unusually clear brain functions.
The most direct route between these 2 cities is U.S. Highway 6, a classic "Blue Highway" that runs from Providence, RI all the way to Bishop, CA, 50 miles from the Nevada border. The stretch we drove in Pennsylvania is designated as a scenic highway, and it started as advertised. Somehow it turned into a tedious run of small town speed traps, followed by many more like looking towns with like looking speed traps. I felt like the car was standing still, and this endless loop diorama of small towns kept approaching every 20 minutes just to break the boredom of the farmland in between.
Perhaps it was the frustration venting of the previous night's lack of fun, or maybe it was the anticipation of Erie's nightlife possibilities, but it was not a moment too soon that we turned onto State Road 97 and once again on U.S. 19 to get to Erie.
What a pleasant surprise Erie was! The SeaWolves play in a modern and pleasant park on East 10th Street, right near the downtown party district. The yard offers wonderful sightlines and amenities, and is built in the mold of many of the newer Minor League ballparks. I have 2 distinct memories from that evening...
1) We stopped in a bar (no surprise there!) and the bartender was a dead ringer, looks AND mannerisms, of Kramer from "Seinfeld". He provided plenty of laughs while "entertaining" his customers, and we got quite a buzz going. That got us hungry.
2) Normally we prefer the independent diners and restaurants for our food, but it was late and a McDonald's was nearby. Being a nice night, we sat on the curb outside the restaurant to consume our "99 cent heart attacks". I had stood my container of fries on the sidewalk while eating. When getting near the bottom, something didn't taste quite like a french fry. It turned out to be one of several ants that had entered through the slot in the bottom. At least I got my protein for the day!
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