A Night with the Jersey Crew

Last night I was lucky enough to enjoy some pre-birthday drinks with Mr. Charlie Stella, Mr. Pat Lambe, and Mr. Dave White. They drove all the way from... well somewhere in Jersey (still haven't pinned it down exactly; to Philly boys, Jersey is pretty much driveover country on the way to New York City or the Jersey Shore.) They met me at the corner of 2nd and Chestnut, pretty much the heart of hip strip in Old City, right where I work.

So where do I take them? Mint? Glam? The Khyber? Tin Angel? Cuba Libre?

Uh-uh. Me and my boyos, we roll old school. (Besides, Charlie wanted to smoke.) We hit Nick's Roast Beef, which true to its name, serves the best damn roast beef sandwich in town. The beer is cold, and there's a massive fish tank behind the bar. What else do you need, right?

Highlights and random factoids:

* Charlie brought his hardcover copy of Secret Dead Men for me to sign, which became the first hardcover copy of a novel I've ever signed for anybody. (Note to Charlie: You'll probably be able to eBay that sucker for $32.95 in a couple of years.)

* Dave and Pat are taller than me. And I consider myself tall (6'2").

* When Dave, Pat and I started gabbing about comic books and Spider-Man in great detail, I could almost read Charlie's mind. He was thinking: Should I beat the crap out of these geeks and clean out their wallets, just on general principle?

* Charlie Stella used to have long hair. Like, hippie-long hair.

* The way the conversation went at times, I kept looking at Dave, wondering if he was wearing a wire.

* At least one person at the table (maybe more, I'm not saying) is an Average White Band fan.

* Most talked-about person, not at the table: Ken Bruen.

* Most talked-about person, not at the table (second place): Al "Sunshine" Guthrie.

* Pat thought Al Guthrie was a Jehovah's Witness, like Mickey Spillane.

* Charlie smokes unfiltered Camels.

* When Dave bummed a Camel, and it burned most of the way down, it looked like he was holding a joint.

* Dave thought I was much, much older. Like, in my fucking 50s or something.

* Pat, like me, lacks the sports gene.

* We broke the seal in the following order: Dave, Pat, me... then (several hours later) Charlie.

* Most bathroom trips: Dave.

* The Center City Philly Award for Finding Street Parking and Feeding the Meter All Night, Thereby Giving the Finger to the Overpriced Garages in Old City: Pat.

* Nobody believed that RoboCop is my favorite movie of all time.

* Seriously. The Average White Band.

What's great about this weird virtual blog/e-mail community we live in? I felt like I knew Charlie, Dave and Pat before I even sat down with them. And by the end of the night... well, I didn't want the night to end.

But Dave started rambling on about seeing the Liberty Bell, and that's never a good sign.

Guys, I can't wait to get together again in the near future. I've got some Doc Ock stories that will drive poor Charlie over the edge. Excelsior!