April Fools Day at the Choate Bridge Pub

April Fool's Day and it is snowing. SNOWING for cryin' out loud!

It seems like for weeks each time I've gone to get Dave on a Friday, the weather has it out for us. 

We headed a little far a field to Ipswich, and hit the Choate Bridge Pub Restaurant. The place was jam packed, and Dave wondered how many of the guys at the bar were contractors who work inside or outside, who couldn't work on a day like today what with the weather. 

Dave told me stories about where his old office was in Boston. There was a bar called the Pier Grille, and the clientele there was rather mixed. Business men like himself, mixed with dudes "fresh" off of the fishing boats. They'd bring their haul in after being out for a week, and instead of going home to lady and shower, or whatever else would await them, they hit the Pier Grille.

The great part about where the bar was, he told me, was that no one was driving to get home. Cabs were easy to hail, and walking up to their apartment near the Copps Hill Cemetery was no problem. He never had to worry about the fishermen, except for maybe how they smelled. And he loved that their primary goal was a cold one before returning home, like any other men of work. 

At the Choate, we saw many working men in their sweatshirts from their businesses, we heard them talking about projects. The barmaid and waitress seemed to know each one by name. Regulars. Regular Joes, eating their sandwiches and a cold Ipswich Ale, because they sure couldn't be out there on a ladder doing that exterior paint job. 

While we were sitting there, Dave suddenly burst into near hysterical giggles. "Coming around the corner to your line of sight in 5, 4, 3, 2..." and then I saw her. 

This woman indeed came into view. She was on 'the arm of a rather normal looking guy who was wearing galoshes and an overcoat. But she ... she was orange tan, in a tiny black dress, hair all dolled up huge, with high crazy heels on, struggling to get through the slush and mush on the sidewalks. He did his best to support her along. But we died laughing while checking her out. She looked incredibly out of place in a town of New Englanders in their winter coats and their waterproof wellies. 

Theorizing "what on earth is her deal?" we created a narrative for her. She worked at the "asethetiques" salon around the corner and had just returned from two hole weeks in Tortuga. Her beau there, a gentleman much above her age, had just taken her to lunch down the street as a surprise. She, not expecting this, forgot her jacket. And now she was regretting that oversight. He, not much of a gentleman if you ask me, could have given his coat to her. But he is, after all, a wise New Englander. Not giving up that coat for nothing. 

Dave enjoyed a lobster roll and a couple of Black and Tans. I had a beautiful piece of swordfish with the most perfectly steamed broccoli I've ever had at lunch. Thumbs up. 

If you find yourself in Ipswich, The Choate Bridge Pub is a fantastic place to eat. Be forewarned though, they don't take credit cards so come with a loaded wallet and be prepared, or you'll be like Dave, waltzing down the street in the slush heading to the ATM at the bank.