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After years of loyally visiting Fells Point for Halloween, I decided to steer myself in a different direction. Fells Point has always promised a Halloween celebration with the best costumes, the most crowded bars, and the feeling that a riot could break out at any moment. And while this is always what drew me in, it turned into the same reasons that I won’t go back. For years I found my favorite bars filled to capacity by the time I arrived. The only hope for entrance was that someone came out to smoke and lost their place, or just aimlessly wandered out of the bar. Even then, there was always a line with a $20 entrance fee waiting for me. Certainly I’m not above sitting back and enjoying the scene. It is a rare treat to see Halloween enthusiasts sorting out the most manageable way to urinate out of their costumes and on to the side of a bar. To be realistic, if I wanted to enjoy costumes I would have stayed at home and handed out candy. I have in the past found some sort of balance with the madness by taking shelter in the Latin Palace, a bar that hovers a few blocks to the north of Fells Point’s most revered bars. But in 2008, even Latin Palace bared its opportunistic fangs and insisted on a $20 door fee that was coupled with an excessively thorough frisking for all patrons in costume. Once inside, the hostility ensued with overpriced drinks, lackadaisical bartenders, and a local scene that did it’s best to stare fear into the eyes of everyone celebrating the holiday.
Nope. Not for this guy. When it was ascertained that the best hope for a successful Halloween in Fells Point anchored on how I would be received at the Latin Palace, I knew it was time to cut my losses. The question of where else to go was answered before it was even asked, as a friend heard word that the Power Plant would be dead. Normally, that’s the best reason to not go somewhere, but in contrast to Fells Point, it is a change that I welcomed. And it obviously was a modest claim. Power Plant is rarely dead on a Saturday, and there is no way that it could be dead on Halloween. With that said, Power Plant it was. This actually means Luckie’s Tavern. Mex has always been really good at ensuring that I spend most of my money at Luckie’s. I can’t take the Angel Rock bar too seriously after I witnessed a guy get asked to leave because he was rocking too hard on an empty dance floor. The place has chains hanging from the ceiling, called a rock bar, and a guy can’t hop in place to a Nirvana song?! In contrast, the Mist/ Mosaic scene reminds me of why I’m not a friendlier person. There is a possibility that I have just had bad luck, but it’s almost as if there is some kind of glittery douche-ink on their flyers that is invisible to sensible people, but guarantees a glamorous time to pretentious trust fund babies and other self idolizing scenesters. So as I previously mentioned, on to Luckie’s.
The approach to Luckie’s was painless. There were no crowds. There was no cover. There was apparently no reason at all to get there before 9pm. In preparation for a double threat evening of Halloween coupled with an extra hour of Daylight Savings drinking, I made time to do the rounds at Luckie’s. I exchanged niceties with the bartenders, the doormen, and even the bathroom attendant who has a surprising wealth of information about Baltimore sports teams. A good portion of the staff got really into the holiday with impressive costumes. Those that didn’t dress up didn’t lack in enthusiasm for keeping the drinks flowing and commenting on every outfit they saw. The crew at Luckie’s wove their web of accepting smiles, quick jokes, and easily accessible drinks until I had lost most everyone that I had arrived with. The bar filled in nicely as the night went on and for all intents and purposes, my bill wasn’t too bad. May haps I could have saved a bit if I had chosen an alternative mode of transportation from time traveling, but it worked. With that said, anything short of Glen Danzig sighting in Baltimore, and I’ll be at Luckie’s Tavern again for Halloween.
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