Charm City Landing
One summer, between my freshman and sophomore years of high school, I practically lived at my friend 
Jeremy’s house in a suburb outside of Baltimore. Jeremy had a fantastic attic room, removed from the rest of the house, which made it perfect for listening to David Bowie deep into the night, sneaking cigarettes and trying to make out with girls. His house was also near a busy bus line that could take us into downtown in about 25 minutes or so. We’d hop on and blab too loudly about the latest high school insanities. Soon enough we were standing on Charles Street and the world—or at least the local art movie theater and the café that notoriously served minors booze—was our oyster. Some times, but not that often, we’d wander farther afield and wind up at the tourist magnet known as the Inner Harbor. (Side note: I once worked on a cruise ship at the harbor for all of one night—when I found myself lugging garbage off the vessel at 3 a.m. my resolve melted. And Jer put in more time at a Harbor Place store that I’m pretty sure was called “All Things Crabs!” or something equally charming. He looked great in the crabby apron all employees had to wear).
The Inner Harbor was good for the occasional cheap meal—a cup of Thrasher’s fries drenched in vinegar really stuck to your ribs—and for mocking the juggling clowns busking near the water’s edge, one of several rhetorical skills at which Jeremy excelled. Why am I telling you all this? Because on Nov. 19 I’ll be reading from Jetpack Dreams at the Barnes & Noble at the Inner Harbor and it is just delightful and amazing to me to think about returning to the scene of so many misspent youthful hours, all these years later. If you are in the area or are currently a resident of Charm City, I’d love to see you there—and if Thrasher’s is still in business, the fries are on me.
Posted by admin on October 16, 2008 at 9:00 am
