The musical duo at Fort Hill Brewery performed this classic tune just as I was tearing into a Rauchbier. Life on a Sunday gets no better. As a side note, there are no original photos for this segment, as they were lost when my iPhone expired.
When the gals wanted time to themselves on a lazy Sunday in Massachusetts, the only sensible course of action for the guys was to find a comfy tavern.
Preferably in Rhode Island.
Ben was openly amused on Saturday when I explained the constantly evolving rules and regulations governing my quest to visit all fifty states. Having concluded that our drive through Connecticut on Tuesday would qualify for the list so long as we stopped somewhere for coffee on the way through, it left me in need of a good reason to go to Rhode Island.
Laughing, Ben assured me this reason does not exist – well, unless we drove to the coast, and there wasn’t time for that. However, being a good sport, he agreed to take me to Rhode Island for lunch on Sunday.
Diana promptly did a Google search and discovered a sports bar called Gator’s in North Smithfield (says the website) or Slatersville (says the logo). In either case, it required only that we dip across the state line into the northwestern tip of Rhode Island.
Gator’s really was a fun joint. It’s a locally-owned hometown sports bar with a sand volleyball court, good pub food (my choice was a clam roll, rather like a Po Boy) and craft beers alongside the inevitable mass-market lights and ultra lights. I drank a golden-colored “craft” ale from Rhode Island which was served with a scoop of blueberries (yes, when in Rome) and followed it with a pint of Guinness, just because I hadn’t had one in a while.
Having conquered Rhode Island, we phoned the ladies for itinerary updates before navigating a course to Fort Hill Brewery, which is in greater detail at Potable Curmudgeon:
Reunited in South Hadley, the five of us again piled into one vehicle for the short drive to Mission Cantina in Amherst; burritos and tacos were superlative, and my choice of beverage purely metaphorical: A Ruby Coyote margarita, made with tequila and grapefruit juice, in honor of the baby in the house.