Happy Valentine’s Day to all you lovebirds out there, Cupid’s arrow has hit me in the rear again. Last week, I fell in love with a new establishment in my town that serves a very tasty buffalo wing. And yes, while I am still on my diet, once a month I will need to allow myself to gorge on wings. A man can only eat so many twigs, nuts, and berries before he loses his mind! Plus, I am a card carrying member of a Wing Club. (Well, we don’t have cards….yet)  

 The city of Gloucester, New Jersey is where I call home. We are proudly the teen mother, stray dog, and domestic abuse capital of New Jersey and have a rich history of being home to a slew of bars. There was something like 42 bars and liquor stores at one point in the 60’s. Even when I was in my 20’s, I am pretty sure there were at least 20 or so bars, and now there about 11. Good thing about that is, at one point I wouldn’t dare go in at least 10 places in town without the threat of getting a knife stuck in me or a pool cue broken over my head. Now, all the places are safe and decent establishments. Actually, I really love every remaining bar in town, they are all good spots in their own way. One place that had gone to the wayside has now been revamped and remodeled and it is where we visited last week.  

I went to Gloucester Catholic High School located in the heart of South Central Gloucester City (not sure if it was really south central; that just makes it sound tougher). There was a go-go, strip joint, gentleman’s club between our two school buildings called “Billy’s Place”. I don’t know who Billy was, but his place was nothing to be proud of. I only went in a few times- basically for town wide bar crawls. And on one trip I saw the something that has haunted me to this day. As one dancer got off stage, the next dancer came on with a huge bottle of industrial grade cleanser and sprayed the pole down before she started grinding it. I swear I heard the pole hiss when the cleaner hit it. I am glad she had more respect for the metal pole than the young lady dancing before her. Even so, I am certain that pole had a least 2 different strains of herpes. And I almost asked the lady to spray me down with the stuff after she came within two feet of me. On another trip there, I saw white powder all over the bar top, and thought to myself “Is that stuff for your pool cue? Nah, that’s probably just cocaine.” The place seemingly had no boundaries and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had uncovered a cock fighting ring in the basement.  

Then all of a sudden it was closed, maybe the Board of Health condemned it, or maybe Gloucester City’s male population’s desire to get lap dances from diseased, drug addled, overweight, toothless strippers waned. Who knows? But word soon got out that it was being gutted and remodeled. (Hopefully by a hazmat crew) After some time, it became an Irish themed bar called the Auld Dubliner. The place was beautiful, you felt like you were in a bar in Center City Philadelphia not Center City Gloucester. The problem was, they were pricey, and the menu wasn’t great. I only got to go twice, and never ate. But I can tell you, it was the most I ever paid for a beer in Gloucester City in history. At most bars in town, I could have bought a round for my friends for the same price. Needless to say, it didn’t last long and was closed for over a year.

Now, it’s back as McMichael’s Irish Pub. Still same interior but with (I believe) more televisions. It’s been open for a month or so now, and I had heard nothing but good things. There are advertised specials on drinks every night, a good menu, and good food. And most importantly, I was told by my friend Maria – they have great wings. I passed this information along to my Wing Club. What is Wing Club you ask? The first rule of Wing Club is never talk about wing club. Just kidding. It’s exactly what it sounds like – a bunch of dudes who go to a different bar once a month and eat wings. We have a score sheet where we rank the wing, the price, the waitress (no comment), the blue cheese, the TV’s, and a few other things. We are a dignified group of individuals who serve our community – we have two teachers, a police office, two mailmen, and a dude that works at a college (me). My friend Pat and his brother-in-law Rich were the brains behind this beautiful, amazing, and brilliant idea. So we all decide on a place, and pick a night when a bar has a wing special and try it out. Pat’s brothers Dan and Steve are members, as is their father, Mr. Burkhardt. It is nice to be able to enjoy wings and beer with him now, for awhile I thought I could never face the man again. Because I had to call him at 4 in the morning after my 1993 Senior Homecoming to tell him his son was passed out on my back lawn and my parents wouldn’t let him in the house. Sure, we can all laugh about it now, but it was not funny that night. I guess you can say on Wing Night, I am an honorary Burkhardt.  

 We all agreed that the wings were top ranking, they have a bunch of different sauces, and every flavor was good. Not only is it Wing Night there, it’s also karaoke. So this time around, we got some free entertainment with the wingies. It started out bad, as most karaoke nights do. First, a woman moaned some awful song into the mic and did further damage to my ipod earphone busted up ears. Then, some guy with tattoos that probably meant he killed someone in prison got up and sang Creed. I joked around being in a rut last week, this made me want to choke a delicious death on a buffalo wing. I didn’t dream it possible to sound worse than Creed, but this guy did it. (Side note, Creed jokes are like the rubber chickens of the comedy world, they are always funny for some reason) But then, two extremely sharply dressed African American gentlemen came strutting into the bar. They were in these old timey, almost mobster-ish looking striped suits. Their shoes were most likely made from the skin of some reptile, and they were the best dressed guys I have ever seen in a bar on a Wednesday night in mid-winter. And when they started singing, I thought Mr Luther Vandross himself was resurrected from his grave. Three songs in, they sang “This is How We Do It” from Montell Jordan, and instantly my Wednesday night turned into a Friday night. I didn’t reach for my 40 and turn it up, I reached for my 23 ounce Miller Lite that was two bucks, and knocked down half the glass. Then they reached legendary status (in my eyes at least) when they busted into “Poison” by Bell Biv Devoe. Feeling a little confident, and full of wings and beer, I ran up to the one guy and tapped him, and he knowingly handed me the mic just in time for me to shout “ya never trust a big butt and a smile, that girl is poison!”

Soon after they brought down the house, they shuffled out the door, leaving me and my buddies upset, and wanting more. Friday night turned back into Wednesday night, and the Creed guy got up and sang a Nickelback song. A complete downer after one of the best Wing Nights yet!

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