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.