North vs. South, plus industrial
Every day I wake up to the inescapable reality that I live in New Tampa. In the day to day, there's not much to complain about - while Bruce B Downs is quite a pill to drive at 9 AM or 6 PM, I am under no delusions that South Tampa is much easier. But try to enjoy a relaxing dinner out and the sheer unexceptionality of this part of town hits you over the head like a glob of grey mush.
Some night last week - the routine of the evening has rendered all details obscure and obsolete - my wife and I joined the masses headed north on Bruce B Downs towards the Mason-Dixon Taste Line - there are good places to be found on BBD, but for God's sake don't go looking for them north of I-75. I suddenly experienced a feeling of abject boredom at the prospect of eating at the same place again. Even if it meant the possibility of eating the same exact meal being tolerated by millions across the nation, I needed novelty. A quick inventory of the establishments ahead of me lead me to realize that my only option was Lee Roy Selmon's. Oh God.
The food wasn't bad. In fact I dare say that some of it bordered on exotic for a Caribbean-born person like myself. I just wish they'd rename the place Comfort and be done with it, maybe include a pair of sweatpants with extra-stretch elastic at the door as well. But as usual with New Tampa, the Hollister parade inside was nauseating. I took my feed-bag of leftovers and left only partially satiated.
This past Saturday the wife and I again were looking for a good dinner, but man was the Downs not going to be enough. Most of the time I feel guilty for driving 15 minutes for dinner, but there was no way I was going to shovel corporate food down my throat. So off we went to Cappy's, after some issues with getting off I-275 - the remarkably quick construction on there did cause the temporary closure of the Ashley exit.
Alright, so South Tampa folk can be equally nauseating. But at least their nausea has color. And I don't mean yell "welcome to Moe's!" color. Cappy's is as simple and lo-fi as it gets: hole in the wall; no credit cards; soggy Trivial Pursuit cards on the tables; menus printed on laminated LP covers that feature nothing more than pizza (NY or Chicago style), calzones, breadsticks and Greek salad; a piece of Dubble Bubble with your check. God bless the place. The pizza itself is fantastic if you enjoy a nice greasy slice of pie. And I'm always happy with a pizza place that serves breadsticks that aren't just de-pizza'ed crust pieces. I particularly enjoy the fact that it's one of the few places I've ever been in the general Hyde Park/SoHo area where there's actual proof that people there have children. And yet you can still toss in the usual emo people and other such common sights.
In particular my favorite table was occupied by two mid-30's guys, probably Bucs season-ticket holders, probably go to the Hard Rock Casino way too often, definitely don't drink good beer. They were enventually joined by two women, International Plaza casualties. The conversation was predictable drunken-jolly, but I was predictably enthralled. Eventually I gathered that Cappy's was a pre-concert stop for them. And then I came to realize that they were headed to the Nine Inch Nails (sorry for the capitalization - I'd do it to E. E. Cummings too) concert.
Then I realized that The Downward Spiral was released in 1994. That gives college fans of Trent Reznor plenty of time to become mid-30's sociables in Eddie Bauer jeans. How the lowly have risen. Or something like that. I'm not sure that Mr. Reznor's particular brand of sulk-core is appealing to today's angst-ridden, so I wonder how he feels about his audience today.
That reminds me, I've been meaning to give NIN a chance. I was busy listening to oldies and ska when they were doing their thing. It would make for great parking-lot drive-by music around the strip malls of New Tampa.
You're going to get what you deserve
- Nine Inch Nails, "Head Like a Hole"
Posted by Joel at 10/26/2005 10:06:00 PM
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