What do you do on a Thursday night in Roanoke? Well, if you're a med student in Roanoke, you might check out Martin's Downtown Bar and Grill. We visited it last night, where we had an interesting conversation with our waitress. She taught us the definition of "munging," something I had never heard of before. I'm too embarrassed to post the meaning of it or even link to its definition on Urban Dictionary, so if you really want to know what it is (which you don't), you'll have to go find out for yourself.
We eventually decided to go to Corned Beef, another local bar, but on our walk there we were stopped by a girl who jumped out nowhere and yelled, "Come on in!" Surprised and a little curious, we entered The Shadowbox, a small concert venue where a small but pretty talented band was playing. Lee, Greg, and I took a seat, and no more than 30 seconds later, a guy ran down to us from the stage and started playing the trombone in our faces. I can't describe it any better than the woman who was sitting behind me, who screamed, "I FEEL LIKE I'M AT THE CIRCUS!" Truer words have never been spoken, ma'am. Overstimulated and somewhat frightened, we quickly tried to make our escape. Before we reached the door, however, an 8-foot-tall woman introduced herself to me as the owner of the place. She directed me to the bar, where the bartender offered to put my beer on the owner's tab. The catch: it was the foamiest, most terrible beer of all time. Hence, the nickname created by Lee: "frerrible beer."
In the meantime, the rest of our friends had already made their way to Corned Beef, so Lee, Greg, and I left to meet up with them. As soon as we walked in, the live band started playing "Man of Constant Sorrow," immediately followed by "Wagon Wheel." You can imagine my surprise/elation/excitement/exuberance/inappropriately loud singing when I realized they were playing the same two songs that Lee and I had performed with the Blue Ridge Medicine Boys at the VMed Talent Show. The rest of the night was spent singing along to this guitar-playing country duo.
And that, my friends, is what you do on a Thursday night in Roanoke.
1 comment:
This was actually an interesting, well-written post that didn't make you sound like an autistic 9-year old. Except it really does make me bitter that the one weekend I'm here, you left for Cville.
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