Stone-cold rollin'

A twenty-four hour lead time on the grand opening of the Charlotte Coliseum would be sufficient for the arrival of some family-- the younger brother a day ahead of the old man’s arrival and our birthday gift to him courtesy of Mick Jagger & Co.

Although book ended by hump day clichés and a predictable weekend, Thursday night may suffer in the weekly rankings, but burying it in a poll resembling the NCAA’s BCS formula would host this writer and his sibling just fine one day out from the opening ceremonies.

Some random thoughts from the weekend:

• Central Ave.’s Penguin/Thomas St. Tavern duet is still an enviable dinner and drinks option; where else will a $1.75 chili dog and an even cheaper pint of Yuengling stretch the almighty dollar? Our waitress’ offer to sample a Cap’n and unsweet tea, thinking this would resemble a true Southern sugar-fied brew, however, was overrated.

• We were probably an hour too early on this true urban crawl to appreciate Coyote Ugly’s roadhouse appeal, since my prior visit had been some time since a featured review just over a year ago. But an appreciation for the bar staff’s choreography of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” in an appealing ensemble of low-rise jeans and cowboy boots (required attire) atop the bar introduces an option that well, they can pour on me whatever they want.

• The affectionately-titled Dear Carolina (www.dearcarolina.com), a frat quartet hosted by Phil’s Deli, affirmed a sense that the restaurant bar is carving a downtown niche for its collegiate appeal. Live acts are a rarity inside 277; it’s nice to know that a cover charge actually gets you something in return.

• Grand Central? Seemed like the Hut, in all of its 80’s glam.

• Friday’s Rolling Stones’ coliseum debut, with my dad in tow, left little to dispute the entertainment value of even a $60 ticket, especially with a fantastic cover of Ray Charles’ “Night Time is the Right Time” (remember the Cosby Show kids’ rendition?). As expected, the rolling stage later shot across the floor to offer the nosebleeds an intimate set that reminded me the Stones seem timeless, but man, they are old.

The coliseum? A mixed bag. Its mess of a brick and metallic exterior seemed neither throwback nor forward-looking, and multilevel club and luxury boxes intends to leave you in the cheap seats.

Relatively speaking, beers were still cheaper than the eye-popping price gouging at Verizon Wireless Amphitheater.

But the mass exodus after the concert, with the multitudes pouring up Fifth as if the sea had been parted, was a good indication of what forty-one home ballgames might offer this winter.

That cold weather be darned.

Gratuity Accepted

The last time I traversed the penthouse floor of the Charlotte Plaza building, it was called the Tower Club and as usual, drinks, steaks, and cigars were someone else's responsibility.

Last Thursday night's social would be no different, courtesy of some attorneys on retainer and a fantastic renovation to become the freshly-minted Bentley's on 27 (201 S. College St., 704-343-9201, www.bentleyson27.com) subbing in just over one year young.

If you're my kind of reader, you certainly appreciate gratuitous alcohol, and appreciate it I did. The best beer in my hand was the one I didn't pay for, and while sipping many fine Amstel Lights I was reminded of the stellar view of the skyline amidst the setting sun, including an angle on the new Coliseum that would make birds envious.

It gave this guy an opportunity to explore a blog entry and simultaneously work, and play, at the same time.

Every once in a while, swipe up that credit card and consider this alternative to happy hour. Many a time we speak of wine at Blue or martinis at Capital Grille. But picture a panoramic view of downtown, plush leather accomodations, and a live piano (Friday and Saturday) as a necessary evil and prelude to your weekend.

The name? Proprietor Jim Emad, in tribute to his family, honors his wife's maiden name, and bought the business in a corporation named after his siblings (Lauren Taylor, Inc.). The service? General manager Ahmad Mohammad, eager to appease a curious writer, returns from servicing an exiting customer just as promised. Waitstaff swarms our tables with a surf and turf of filet and crabcakes.

A martini is encouraged, with the honorary namesake consisting of an infused vodka of fresh pineapple and mango. The apple martini, a fruity concoction, is also highly recommended.

The atmosphere is warm amidst a fireplace ambiance, and while cigars are welcome, they are not sold.

I look forward to my return; however, I have an idea: You pay for it.

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It is the fall, so expect many football-related references when we essentially are up to almost seven days of televised matchups..

Last Thursday's N.C. State-Clemson ESPN matchup, exhibiting pre-game signs of two ACC teams in tumultous disrepair, was a one-sided affair in the Tigers' favor, and very evident at Picasso's (1301 East Blvd., 704-331-0133).

It would not otherwise be worth mentioning except that I observed exactly every seat in the bar as occupied, while loaded in Clemson orange (obviously, they have not read my alumni bar article...their official home is Jocks & Jills), and Wolfpack fans howled in disbelief at the score disparity.

For the record, it is still pound-for-pound the best sports bar in the city, and ask for Tim to pour you one.
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To do: The Forum. Too early to start chanting "Menage-who?" Or, Charlotte Coliseum grand opening, Rolling Stones-style.

Welcome to the Charlotte.com Nightlife blog

Some of my friends are still oblivious to the term “blog,” leaving me to ponder their apparent ignorance of the manifestation of the “web log” internet counterculture.

But perhaps you’ve heard of it. Authors’ musings have manufactured celebrities, uncovered exclusive investigations, and if we’re not careful, they will inundate us to the point of a media backlash. I’m waiting for the first blog reality series.

I have no interest in sharing every excruciating minutia of my daily routine, but I do intend to let you know the next time I observe anything during the Urban Crawl (a new working title for the Nightlife Column; let me know what you think) that rivals the night I watched the patron in the pressed Lee jeans work the worst pickup line of 2005 (Cantina, May 5, “I had a dream about you”).

Now that’s entertainment.

• Email feedback from the Hoops & Dreams review would have me think I was out to throw the fellas under the bus after their recent grand opening of this sports bar at 5^th and Tryon.

Allow me to clarify. It was a pleasant environment; they just need some time to work their jump shot. I affirm some strong opinions in regards to the projection screen (right on the drywall), cheesy menu headings, and cramped quarters as accurate.

But cheap prices, excellent location, and game access will bring the fans. Maybe even the dozens and dozens of Bobcats fans this year might swing by for a coldie.

• Speaking of sports, it’s been a week, and my body clock is back on schedule after last Monday’s thrilling victory over Green Bay.

I’m as big of a football fan as they come, but frankly, Monday Night Football visiting this town simply stinks. Challenging rush hour traffic for a one to two hour pregame festivity on a school night is not the way to do the pigskin. If you disagree with me, you’ve been bamboozled by their production.

ABC even agrees. “MNF” moves to ESPN next year to lose a significant part of its audience without cable or satellite television.

Personally, the tailgate is arguably over half the fun. So I made up for lost time afterwards, watching traffic subside, enjoying one more Sam Adams, and finally hitting the pillow at 3 am.

Big deal that we get the pageantry and a blimp for a night. Believe me, nothing beats nighttime football, but that’s what Saturdays are for, punctuated by a Sunday morning on the couch.

• The addition of a patio to Connolly’s on 5^th only improved on one of my favorite bars downtown. Until we go smoke-free the sipping of a frosty Smithwick’s in the fresh air sandwiched amongst the high rises is tough to beat.

But the extortion of my $5 (when I have to pay it) weekend cover just for the privilege to enter the premises (with no live band) is like pouring a fresh pint right on the sidewalk.

It’s still the best Irish pub in town while watching Ri-Ra’s upstairs bar slip into club status.

• Before casting one of those flyers I found on my windshield like a playing card across the garage, Illusions 1000 (1000 Seaboard St., 704-332-0998) printed the wrong web address on the back (I suggest they get the printer’s money back). Please allow me to publish the correction as www.illusions1000.com, which is correct on the front.

Borrowing a chapter from the Rock Hill scene, this early Music Factory tenant of the upcoming 30 acre campus of nightlife in north downtown stays open ‘til 6 am, seven days a week. What you do after 2 am when the city cuts off the booze is your business.

Nightly themes include Monday Night Football, DJ skillz contests, goth nights, and a monthly foam party. Suds and skivvies!

• I have a handful of gay friends, and observing a couple flirt with our waiter in the breezeway of Therapy Café (401 N. Tryon) equaled the free acoustic entertainment of the evening. Before the fall chill sets in, get out there for Wednesday half-price martinis, and for those of us who are straight and male, I’d call it ladies’ night out.

Keep an eye out for new Crawl updates.